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I spend my hours lonely
Staring at a phone that doesn't ring
Lying to myself
Pretending not to feel the sting
Around my room in laps I pace
Because it is hard to stay standing still
Restless and anxious
I can't concentrate
Distress is too strong to ****
A tiny part of me is relieved
To see you haven't changed at all
It makes it easier to stand nt ground
When back to you I want to crawl
You must be a magician
Putting me under a spell
With one wave of your wand enchanted
Conjuring heaven
We're really in hell
You keep my adoration in your pocket
Instead of in your heart
It's obvious I am the only half affected
When our lives are forced apart
It feels as though I inhabit a cage
Only when you disappear
Your absence holds me captive
Then am freed when you get near
Dancing on a narrow line
Seperating sense and satiety
If I succumb to my shameful desires
That means forfeiting my sanity
Trapped behind bars inside my brain
Cannot escape my expectations
Disappointment is inevitable
Yet I still surrender to sweet temptation
Shades of blue inside and out
Mixed with the occasional grey or black
All other colors vanished with my trust
I'm pretty sure they're not coming back
Cloaked in heavy misery
Weighs down my overwhelmed soul
You don't even have the decency
To return all the time that you stole
You placed stars directly in my eyes
Just so you could watch them burn out
Ignorance was comfortable
Til you showed me what I now live without
Silence chokes with an icy grip
Solitude freezes spirit right through my skin
No matter how many games you play with my emotions
I still participate although it's impossible to win
I almost titled this "Sad ***** Hours" buuut figured those who dont get that reference might be offended haha
Aŧül Mar 13
I feel scared when
I am alone in the middle of a crowd,
Which is almost always.
I feel irked when
The music is much too loud,
While the night won't irritate me.
I feel flared when
Someone abuses the language and are proud,
Which is also an insult to themselves.
I feel terrorized when
They proclaim that there's no one but Al,
Not to mention the time of their loudspeakers.
My HP Poem #1915
©Atul Kaushal
Zack Ripley Mar 8
The seconds, minutes, hours pass by.
And yet, after all this time,
I can't help but sit back and wonder...
basil Feb 3
we both want to get rid of our last names.
maybe that was a sign.

we always talked about faking our deaths together
curled up on your couch when everyone was
sleeping. i hope you remember what my desperation
tasted like. at midnight i had to go.
like cinderella. but it was wintertime and the pumpkins
were moldy. you never came to my door with a shoe or a question.
maybe that was a sign.

you chased after her when i was sitting patiently at your feet.
she was joking about an anime i hadn't watched
and you got mad. the joking mad that makes you laugh until
you're red. the way you never got with me. maybe
scared that i'd run. the way you did after her. i know i shouldn't be
jealous, but.
maybe that was a sign.

i asked you what flavour i would be and you said
raspberry. i never tasted them the same again. you didn't ask me
to tell  you which you'd be, but i told you mango anyway.
who ever heard of a raspberry mango smoothie? one day i
made one. just to see what we tasted like. i could only pick out the
maybe that was a sign.

you got a tarot reading from someone else. i tried not to be hurt, but you never wanted one from me. i was too cut up to ever
ask you why.
you told me what your cards said, and none of them were about me. i guess it's selfish.
but mine are always about you. god, do you even know
how much you break me? i must be addicted to it
because i stay. i stay and stay and stay
even when you get another tarot reading from her.
maybe that was a sign.

i always texted first. always.
maybe that was a sign.

i'm the one writing all these poems about you. like we're broken up. you never said the words, and neither did i.
but i'll never forget what the moon told me late that night
when you didn't linger at my door. half past midnight.
i try not to read too much into it, but.
maybe it was a sign.
i'm an overthinking ***** :))

i love you blue eyes. please stop letting me write these stupid poems about you. it really doesn't do me any good.
Betty Jan 5
A tiny trickle of sand
passing through
the fingers of your hand
that's an hour
just a shower
of amber grains
what remains
of a once mighty boulder
much older than time
it has heard midnight chime
many times
the tick tick tock
of the clock of eternity
and now it embraces modernity
slowly wearing away
day by day
hour by hour
as a shower of sand
in the palm of your hand
The prompt was hour
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
We were once better together
When we were madly in love
All we have are broken dreams
Memories of what this once was

At night visit photo reels
Happiness left in the past
I was a citizen of your world
Instead of immigrant trespassed

Toss and turn in twisted torn sheets
Up late because I can
Don't sleep next to eachother
Holding grudges with gentle hands

We used to share same mattress
And blankets as well
Awake to face every morning
No reason to argue or yell

Into memories I retreat
With no success
Sound of your laughter a mocking song
And half-hearted at best

The day we promised to always be
Friends no matter what
Forever lingers on my heart
Perfectly etched with sharp cuts

The way you looked at me stayed different
Tone of your voice when you'd say my name
From touch to your kiss to everything in between
Only blue eyes remained the same

Our soft skin no longer free of marks
Nowhere near as fit
Smiles on rosy cheeks
Naive and unaware of the coming *******

Back then conversation was not forced
Felt comfortable baring our hearts
These days hardly speak to eachother
Were much happier at the start

And darkness fuels nostalgia
Resurfaces in its daily routine
Screaming when exactly and where along the way
Did you start forcing what you mean?

I miss the couple we were
Passion without the pain
When your heart was still golden
I wasn't half-insane

Hours and minutes spent in a hurry
And cigarette packs
Problems that seemed so significant
Give anything to have all of that back
Written 1-23-19
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
Sometimes lose track of the times I wished for more time
Every day
George Krokos Nov 2020
There’s something for everyone here in this world of ours
and all that anyone really has to do is to put in the hours.
So as to get whatever they may desire or perhaps wish to be;
it’s the same for those who in their efforts try to become free.
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Amanda Hawk Oct 2020
Doodling out the hours
And minutes
Become tiny emojis
Criss-cross, half-finished
Tic tac toe games
And I feel lost
Each box a reminder
Of these quarantine
Afternoons, and your name
Is always on my lips
Along with the words
I miss you
one of my favorite hobbies-doodling
Isabella Howard Sep 2020
Trains pass by
Hiding bombs
Waiting to kiss the sky
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.

Another pill passing lips
From broken fingertips.
I wonder why my hands died
Before the rest of me could.

Empty monsters
Fill up attics
With my dead friends.

They walk past


Laughter and


Just as empty by the end
As they were at the start.

So far
Nobody good
Has mentioned
My dead hands.

The drunken ghosts
Whispering to walls
Still blame me
For your death.

And my beauty is blurred
By my dead hands.
And my chest is bruised
By your young death.

And my glass philosophy
Has begun to shatter
Under the light
Of the blue hours
I've been drowning in.
A more abstract poem inspired by my words page.
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