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Fall for me
and I promise
that I'll imprint
my poetry on
you for ever.
Inky smudges
trailing down
your back and
running over
your broad shoulders.
A Simillacrum Dec 2018
i don't like
to be upbeat
time is killing
i'm in the sheets
i don't like
to be awake
time is wasting
there goes the sun
so, hello, moon
you missed me?
i've been missing you
weighted words
won't leave
my lips
even in whispers
the absent
voice goes
missing
then, unnoticed, when
you make the ink run.
For gibs. Mouths and words again. You have a point.
Ananya Bansiwal Dec 2018
Nothing can help me
but that beauty

I still remember it was dawn
and
all what the moment did was
recreating love
which I always needed to do myself.
Petrichor Dec 2018
What do you want to read ?
When my heart is heavy with sorrow
i pour my blood
and convert it into ink.
Then, you shower love on me.
You tell me my writing is like wine,
elegant,
beautiful.

Yet when i feel nothing
but happiness
and i pour my heart
onto your feet
you brush it away.
You don't connect to me
and now you don't shower love.
"Your writing is like wine,
elegant,
beautiful,
poisonous."

You don't accept happy
because you don't connect to it.
You flow like the rest
in an ocean filled with grief.
You use me like a mat
and i serve you
waiting for that one day
you clean your sins away.
I honestly do not know what to write. I write with all my heart, but I've stopped gaining the love i used to. What are your expectations?
Jules Dec 2018
When I first heard the phrase “crying in the shower”, I thought it was an over exaggeration. I did not understand why people always use it, does it make a difference? Why not just say “crying on my bed”, “at the dinner table”, or “in the garage”, what is so special about crying in the shower? Does it make things more dramatic?

I’ve never experienced it, I’ve never experienced it until today. It’s the 24th of December and I’m sitting inside my bath tub completely drenched, trying my best to piece together an explanation when my relatives finally figure out where I’ve been hiding. I think now I know what it feels like to cry in the shower.

It’s funny how sadness creeps up on you, it’s so random! Much like any other emotions that you feel; the mundane of day-to-day life where you can be eating, reading the newspaper, watching a series, replying to a text, walking your dog, petting your cat or even just making small talk while standing in a room full of people and it just, it hits you.

And it hurts. I don’t think there’s an appropriate adjective in the english dictionary that can describe it. I wish there was a way. I wish there was a way to deal with pain, with sorrow, with sadness, without losing yourself. As the 1975 puts it, “If I’m lost then how can I find myself?”
Zelda Dec 2018
There is a black line between the page and the words.
When the line smudges
I get anxious
'Cause it makes the page ugly,
Feels out of control
And I'm wondering do I rip out the page
Or continue the line
What would you do?
Seema Dec 2018
I don't know what I lack
Whether it's my words
Or the way I express
Is it the slack tone
Of the rhymes that
Don't really rhyme
Perhaps, it's the format
That's not done right
From left to right align
The words hold on tight
An image painted
A reel of story played
Yet, the characters seem dead
And that's where, I fade
While putting all the words I had
From my mind to the pad
Without thinking,
I spill my life
In your hands - the ink


©sim
Spilling thoughts.
sky Dec 2018
It drips from my eyes and spills into the fire;
Ink
I stare past it to the world that was once breathing,
to the people who greeted it in the morning
My bare foot slides in the dirt, drawing a circle, then stops
The other mimics it
I hold my hands out before me, they bare the offering
The ink begins to stain my skin
It's poring out.
My fingers are melting, and they release it
it falls
for eternity
into the flame
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