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As a child, I would write letters. No, I have never been a romantic, just a rather diplomatic child. I would write letters of negotiation to a friend of mine, burn them, and let the ashes be a legible phoenix to him.

As a child, I grew up writing letters. I stopped believing in the existence of phoenixes. Either that or my friend wasn’t really a fan of one. He was way older than I’d ever be, so I was sure it wasn’t a change of taste. It was rumoured that he preferred the savour of sconces, so I kept burning my letters.

As a child, I wrote letters in desperation. I learnt the fine line between a negotiation and a plea. I pleaded…I pleaded a lot in my letters. Do you think dried tears on paper burn too? I think my friend thought it insufficient. Either that or salt water becomes invincible above the clouds.

As a child, I wrote letters. I wrote lots of letters. I wrote letters to the only one I was sure would write back in some way. I think burning those letters wasn’t such a good idea, it made him unable to read them. Either that or he forgot changing mails was supposed to be a colloquy. He’s my friend, right? He’d have replied if he really did see them…right?

As a child, I did write letters. Then I stopped. Then, then I never wrote them again until I was forced to for grades’ sake. They are the only letters I can say I got replies to. Only difference was, for some reason, each one I wrote came back with the marks of a red pen and a word beneath it all.
G A Lopez May 30
I can still recall
When I was young a lifetime ago
I cried over my skinned knees
Memories with my peers

Running around without footwear
Having friends that are rare
I was so optimistic and happy
Can I go back from the past? hopefully.
Katie May 22
My mental health is not doing okay.
I’m not doing okay.
But i pretend I’m okay.
I’ll be okay.
Probably.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
I’m fine.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine.
Flowerwithabrain Dec 2019
I slip you the paper in anticipation

Does she like me?

I move in and stay up all night laughing with you

Does she like me?

You return a new piece, covered in doodles

She likes me?
Seanathon Nov 2019
A
      racing
            heart
is not all       that I gained
When you said you would,       yes,
      to seeing       me

Not the source,
            but the desire       of true,       anxiety
      Your mere value alone       creates
the most anxious,       me
      To have       ever      been
            The hope       which once
Was just       a plea
A Hopeful, Anxious, Hopefully Desirable, Me
Irene J Nov 2019
the only problem that I haven't told you
it's because you are my dearest friend.
you probably already know,
from the words I wrote,
that it all meant for you.

I'm not ready yet to prepare myself to heart the truth.
Because I know it would **** me softly.
hopefully, you will read all of my poem to you.
EmVidar Mar 2019
I wonder
when I switched
into the poisonous snake
you've claimed me to be
I wonder if
I was always that way
you just helped show me
or if you were the cause
Because He tells me
that there is only good
when you told me
their was only pain,
and suffering,
and heartache, but
that didn't matter
Because I did not feel and you
were what was good for me
because
despite all the flaws you would point out
you claim that your love was
unconditional
and I  would find no one else
that would love the broken mess
that I had become
and when you shattered me more
in hopes of keeping me
in your little box
He stormed in
and let me out
and waited
patiently,
until I was ready
to accept his
type of love
Diana Santiago Dec 2018
Until I met you, I had no idea that someone like you existed
My hopes had all dashed away and I grew jaded
It felt as if I were the only *** without a lid
And so I sat on the stove top all alone with nothing but emptiness
Entering my stratosphere and as I watched
Other pots with their lids be conjoined
A rage filled with blistering pain filled my insides

To lay here beside you I would’ve never imagined
Finding home within your arms and heart
Never did I believe I was worthy of such a love
Yet you fill me up every day and nourish
A heart that was so vastly hungry for affection

Not sure what would ever happen
If you left this poor soul behind
I waited too long to find you
Too many winters afflicting my soul
Your warmth my only salvation
I wrote this imagining a special man writing these words to me. I could only hope I'd get so lucky!
Sketcher Dec 2018
I would rather have a panic attack in the dark room than be alone at home in my own zone depressed on my phone. Then staying up an insomniac, at the park, rising gloom, falling rain, feeling pain, like it's all I ever known.
Attempted suicide, but then revived, choking phlegm, thought I died, I was there, in the hospital, bare naked riddled with needles, poked and prodded, dead skin rotted, almost cried, but I fought it.
Now I knew, I had to go home, and to school, to ******* and moaning and drama, and talking, and floating back to normal society, choking on tears in sobriety, kind of wish I stayed dead cause she gives me glee, ignore what I just said and don't pitty me, as I escape again to a place you flee, when the lit fuse of my bomb rapidly, rushes towards the end, she's gone and done it again, she's wrong and loving other men, I'm right here and paying amends, for **** that I never did, all I ever wanted was to please a kid, with a rotten heart, that was full of sin, I hope the goal was never to win, in this game of life, strife ridden knife stuck on skin.
What doesn't make sense is how she makes me so happy, cause I'm dense headed every time she calls me pappy, or *** or says, "I Love You", it was two months of a misconstrued, confusing relationship thing, now two months without it and it ******* stings and aches when I'm not around her, I want to love her, I want to ground her, ram her, straight into the floor or wall so maybe she can feel my pain, bash her head in a door and make her choke on a wedding ring, while I smoke **** out her mouth like toking while she's bleeding from the throat down to the feet and... in this verse I just finished a talk and I understand that I've been gawking nonsense all along and she isn't with me because she doesn't want to hurt me, but sticks by me because she really likes me.
I feel fine now because I've put the puzzle pieces together and I've calmed down now cause I think I understand Heather.
That's what I'll tell myself as life goes on, living in the prison cell of pain and beyond.
Did I figure it all out?
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