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We built a home
Only for you to replace me
And fill the space I once occupied
With the touch of another , perhaps more capable lover.

His face is always there
As a firm reminder that I am unwelcome
And I never managed to fill that space.
I will never again feel the warmth of that fire
I will never again feel the comfort and security of laying beside you.
toleomato Feb 3
I am justly inadequate
no one knows my name
the strangers I pass by
all treat me just the same.
They never ask about my day
or if I feel okay,
we look on, all in silence
repeating yesterday.

I am justly inadequate
I work hard to be not enough
my conscience is never heavy
but my heart isn't up to *****.
My hands are warm and loving,
callused, hard and rough,
a willing heart without a reason
just never will be enough.

I am justly inadequate
I stare out windows thinking that
if I could just be someone else
then I would get a chance
to be the man I could have been
but as I am, I know I can't.

I am justly inadequate
no one knows my name.
And every time I try to laugh
I can only muster shame.
I try to smile,
once in a while,
to trick the gloom away,
but I still know that I am
inadequate any day.
toleomato Feb 2
It was never my fear that, upon first seeing me,
She would deem me inadequate and reject me entirely right there and then.
It was the coming thunder,
When formalities are finished and our feelings are confirmed,
Where she thinks herself content with my company,
That shook me to my foundation with anxiety.
I cannot help but think,
That even in contentment,
A seed of doubt may find fertile soil in her heart,
And sprout a sudden longing,
A quiet panging,
Which reverberates through the days that grow longer and longer in length,
With each echo leaving a more and more profound impression.
And when this panging starts to get louder,
Until it is akin to church bells in her heart,
It will rouse her from her sleep-like state of contentment,
And have her find that something feels a bit off.
At first, she will not be able to put her finger on it,
But slowly she figures it out;
My images of her set in marble turn into plastic,
Lines of poetry begin to smudge as if written in cheap ink,
Letters begin to fox with its yellowing paper feeling dated to the touch.
And she suddenly realizes in the midst of others,
That this is not enough for happiness.
And then, by chance,
She misplaces a single glance,
Only to find something new
Something beyond contentment and I.
The skies begin to darken and grey storm clouds roll in,
And the thunder strikes,


This, I fear above all else.
I had always imagined your heart to be tiny,
Small like a hummingbird's.

Not because you were incapable of love,
But because you had the capacity for so much of it.

It fluttered at the briefest of glances
And jumped at the slightest of touches.

So fast did your heart beat that I had often mistaken you for dead
When I would wrap my hands around your throat.

You ran and you called and you pleaded
But no one could hear your little heart.

Even as it stuttered frantically
Against your rib cage, brittle as paper.

No one wants to love a quiet heart.

And so I took it and strung it on a chain of gold
So it could sit silently atop my own heart.
This is my very first posted poem. Please be kind.

Permission to use with credit
Philomena Jan 16
Well what can I say
I'm not her
I don't have her warm eyes
Her thin waist
Her cute laugh
Her smart brain
I'm not perfect like her
I'm not even close
I lack her sense of peace
And her immense love
I don't dream like her
See like her
I will never be like her
What more can I say
I'll never be beautiful or perfect
Never see clear or pure
I've ruined my chances of happiness in this world
And how can I blame you
She dances in the light
And I dwell here in darkness out of sight
She is all that is good and right in this world
And I'm all you should fear
So go ahead
Get out of here
I suppose I'm just frustrated. But can you really blame me, I'm the daughter of a monster and nothing can erase that path I've followed. So no I'll never be anything quite like her.
Chris Jones Oct 2018
There's a feeling at the back of my mind and gut.
Running in place creating my own rut.
I reach out but it's just not enough.
All my aspirations gone in a puff.
To say it's a deep dark pit is unjust.
It's a weight filling my empty husk.
Failed expectations and dreams.
What does any of this even mean.
I run down a path that I make up as I go.
Uncertainty is the only real lover I know.
"Do xyz and your hopes will unfold".
My, what a lie we've all been sold.
Rose Brown Oct 2018
Hating you both would be easier than acting like I just don’t care.
I don’t think breaking down would change your mind, even if I cried until tears drowned us, and you would still look at me in disgust.
It’s all I want to do though.

Hearing her name reminds me how little I am compared to her, how much more she glows.
I don’t have humour like she always has.
I’m not as tall or as appealing.
I am just an embodiment of discontent, never happy with less than a victory.
I will be in your way, until I can’t see the beauty in your eyes.

I should hate you for more reasons, for being my ruin and yet never having to look god in the eye for what you did.
I cannot. I never could.

I don’t even want to kiss you.
I just want your body holding mine.
I just want your body holding mine.
I don’t even want to kiss you.
I just want your body holding mine.

If I was allowed to scream, I would.

But I made no promises.
Gray Jun 2018
So there i am, up on the stage.
Frantically trying to make myself feel assuage.

But it’s hopeless.
The crowd is soulless.

None of them are laughing at any of my jokes.
Perhaps i might of misspoke?

“Get off the stage you useless freak!”
Someone from the front row decided to shriek.

Abruptly my already anxious head is hit with an unyielding blow.
What is this red goop? A bright red tomato?

As i quickly walk off the stage i stuff my hands into the pocket of my jeans.
Well, i guess my dignity tonight was smashed into smithereens.
Breanna Stockham Apr 2018
Another day, another to-do list
Two pages long, fists start to clench
Endless effort, you do your best
And at the end of the day, some are left unchecked.

You say: “I must do better tomorrow,                      
I should have gotten more done,
I really tried my hardest,
But I only finished some.”

A day full of work, but the tension remains
Your clenched fists aren’t relieved

Saying “only, but, should” and “must”
Only minimize what was achieved.

Perfection is ideal, but not attainable

And that is okay.

Do what you can, but take care of yourself.
Tomorrow’s a new day.
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