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Sakshi Balla Mar 17
Caught up in the sweet talk
Sugar and lemons
Coated with walls
Beneath was a clamber
Tussle of heart and the mind
Could say it out loud
But save it in the void
Honeyed and spiced.
Would it be mellisonant enough to be poised?
S H Violet Jan 23
Please, follow me
off The Grid.
I’ve had no lasting verity
since I came here.

I’m getting
so overwhelmed.
They don’t see me through
the smoke and mirrors.

Everything is
quick as a whip,
and I can’t look at you
properly here.

I want you in
tunnel vision.
I want to feel love
for the first time.
Two Way Mirror Dec 2019
You can clearly see out
you can speak, even raise your voice
you think you're being clear, emphatic,
maybe even a bit loud
but actually,
no one hears or sees you
No-ones’ even noticed
you're on the other side of the glass
Two Way Mirror Dec 2019
The curtain,
the veil, the barrier, the obstruction
whatever you want to call it
that distance between you and the rest of the world
the no-mans land between borders
the space in time between receipt of input
and your output
where all the frantic calculations are made
where all the possibilities and ramifications are considered
before blurting out something misjudged
more thought doesn't always lead to a better outcome
you can overdo it
Amber Phoenix Dec 2019
O' which seals from me
The torment of thy thoughts –
Thoughts not meant to enter me
But sensed in mists of spheres.

In solitude
I'm dwelling hence
For'a hermit doth not lure the cold –
The thrusting cold o'that which
Is plaguing the foresaken.

Solitude, then to me
Is to radiate that ease –
That ease swaning circular and gracefully
on the calms of the Hydriads' waters.
F A Pacelli Oct 2019
alone at last
a blessing it is
to remove my masks
in solitary bliss
no more acting
and trying to please
just me myself and
my mind at ease
janry Jul 2019
I wish I could fling the door open
so you'll see the window
I told you about.

We could watch the street posts and tree sparrows on cable wires extending to the horizon of watercolor skyscapes
from there.

But I'm concerned of what
you would think when you'll
also see the vase and
a dead tuscan sunflower
I've plucked sometime
in a long-ago summer.
Don't worry I am not a creep.
I can even make you
some paper orchids
if you like.
I might put one on your ear
if it's fine. Just
give me some time.

Don't mind those
tattered jeans and floral socks
stenched of petrichor
and scattered like autumn leaves
all over the floor.
That's how I've been. Just
give me some time
to clean.

But then that is why
I'm all afraid
you might dislike me
for I've built up lies
and messy secrets
to hide a past
and all.
There wasn't even
a single window
on that wall.

You might not understand
I'm like a lichen-blotched tree
inside a lake of jade.
More like a
dead tuscan sunflower
inside a vase. If so
you don't have to
stay longer in my shades.
But don't just leave me
like a summer
in a while.

You might not understand
why I live
in a house of no windows.
But maybe you won't open the door.
Rickey Spence Jun 2019

I committed no crime,
So why then do I run?
Maybe I’ve run out of time,
And I can’t stand to be outdone.

As I run, I leave clues,
To divert anyone who stalks.
Random things like clews,
I’ve changed basic characteristics.

Maybe I’m bad at leaving ’em, unless
The detectives are bad at reading.
But they find me nonetheless,
As I try to explain this misunderstanding.

I argue my case – innocence,
They are not convinced.
I plead guilty – acquiescence,
They pick up on the nuanced.

Why is everything backwards?
No one understands me.
Headache and confusion afterwards,
With me no one seems to agree.

But then the detective joins me,
They don’t turn me in.
I can’t grasp it, should I flee?
My emotional reserve, dried like a raisin.
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Rickey Spence Jun 2019

You are a most fragile thing,
Yes, and you’re rarely found pure,
Refreshing like a mountain spring,
He who lacks you is honestly poor.

People fear your genuine company,
Your attendance can be lonely.
So they take you into custody,
To destroy you, thinking of self only.

The collective chaos of your absence,
Somehow they thrive on it.
What they carelessly lack is balance,
We don’t get along in the least bit.

You are a most difficult thing to disturb,
You bring such a pensive atmosphere.
Distracted by other things perturbs,
But just like that, you disappear.
Who am I?
My name is Silence. I am a gift to those who know me. I am a curse to those who deny my benefit.
F A Pacelli May 2019
alone in my room
and a blessing it is
to put away my masks
in solitary comfort
peace and freedom
to be exactly who i am
in this moment
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