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Hawley Anne Feb 16
Before the sun starts to rise,
before the world awakes.
In the stillness of mornings quiet
thats where you'll find the pain.
Pain of things that you regret,
pain of days gone past.
But the worst pain of them all,
the pain of choices you can't take back.
The things you missed while you were high.
The memories you didn't make.
The little voice at 4 am, you never heard
saying "Mommy, are you awake?"  
The guilt of never being there,
through a feverish night.
The longing for being the only one,
who would make everything alright.
You wish that it was you at night
who scared the monsters away,
and got cuddles in the mornings.
Every single day.
On quiet mornings you wonder what,
would be happening right then.
If you weren't a drug addict?
How much noise would there have been?
You think of how you would go back
in time if only you could.
You wouldn't do the things you'd done.
Instead you'd do what you knew you should.
But the past is past now,
and your choices were made.
So now you sit on silent mornings
with nothing but the pain.
And the knowledge that both your kids,
call somebody else mom,
and how its all your fault because you know,   
Jeremy Betts Jan 12
I'm not afraid of dying
I'm afraid of the shame from trying

Hi, Hello
How are you,
ask yourself how much do I want to..
get ta know huh better..
do you want to..
Your invited to enjoy my atmosphere.
I want to get to know a side of you I dont know..
so i can touch your soul..
..CALM MY MIND and calm your mind
get to know you better..
so I can touch you.
Touch your emotional.. side
do u want to touch my funny poetics,...  honey..
my emotional side..
I invite you to touch me free
I'm just selina sharday rose.. yea
come  touch my rose petals.. their like musical sheets.
feel me breath,  touch my heart, touch my mind.
ask can you touch my heart, say come sharday touch my mind..
put your hands over over me.. keepin me company..
its all in the policy.. touch my poetry
Thank you... for Touchin my friendly..  touchin my me.. I'm poetry
I'm more then what you see.. Read me.. Stay within my policy@her.poetry..
calming, poetry, things
Jen Aug 2022
if life was a movie
our montage would have music
you'd say you'll never leave
and you'd say you cant lose this

if life was a movie
you would be with  me
write our intials on the tree
because we could never lose this.

and life was movie
there's the  part where you had to say goodbye
It would be selfish to keep you mine
when the world is to be seen and its something to try

life was a movie
when i pretended to smile
"i'll be okay, i'll be fine"
cause cameras cant see through a lie

life was a movie
and ill be in the end credit
i'll be the one you lose
you're the protagonist who lived it.
xiixxxcix Mar 2015
I like to think that when you left me, you went straight to church. you listened to the sermon, but you couldn't stand up when the congregation sang.
I like to think that someday you'll stop trying to wash my scriptures off your hands with holy water.
I like to think that I'm that old mattress you had when you were ten; you always said it held the same familiarity as falling in love with a stranger.
the mattress' holes from falling asleep with lit cigarettes match up perfectly with my alibi.

I'm not to be trusted. I'm an angry human.
I grew up with broken glass in my lungs and cracked ribs.
something inside me snaps even further when the sun shapes your body into a shadow on my bedroom wall.

I want to redefine the word 'fire' with your name, and light candles with you. I want to make my walls sweat. I want you to burn up my ****** clothes. I want you to set my books ablaze. I want you to realize the hardest part is never letting go, but forgetting you ever had a handle.

you can't be the flame and the wick.
you need to leave me to burn down, like the altar candles in the front of the sanctuary, for everyone to see.

sometimes I think god hates me; I'm just a pawn in his and satan's chess game.
small and insignificant in value - I almost want satan to win.

after all,
if you are fire,
hell will feel like home.

but then I remember that I'm tired of controlled burns and scrubbing your soot off of my hands.

so I like to think that when you left me, you went straight to church. you listened to the sermon, but you couldn't stand up when the congregation sang.

and I like to think that Saint Jude called me out of your blaze, and that I left you there with all of your confessions and your communions in your own personal hell.

either way, it's not my cross to bear anymore.
Sameer Omles Mar 2021
You are something silly,
You are something else,
No matter what they talk **** about you,
And  you don't need to be one of them.
You will remain something unique in your own way...

Brumous Mar 2021
I want to be as happy people can be, and hide this lonely me

To take a quill,
And write a story,
Then find my real identity.
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