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Bee May 2
the ocean lays
fifteen miles outside my yard
i know the waves crash onto
the shore as each day passes
i know that the sun sets at eight
and the tide follows
depending on the mood
of the fickle moon
but the ocean may not have me
i have a bath at home
it’s just shallow enough that
the ripples i create in my sandbox
only pose threats to rubber duckies
but the ocean lays
fifteen miles outside my yard
Bethany May 1
I keep the blinds closed,
because the sunlight turns sickly.
A recluse, in a stagnant room,
forever bound to shadows -
made from purposeful closings.
How is one meant to peak through these linings?
Afraid, I am, to let brightness reach through.
The stars have it written for me.
How can I undo fate?
Justin Lai Sep 2020
life from the crossroads,
meeting a blood clot
already thickened from
running sweat, a stone's
throw from a ***** four
letter word: P-A-S-T

in another stream (one
wayward than my own)
i would be he, shivering
and possibly unrepentant,
emphatically gone too
far beyond anyone's

yet in another, i live out
the dreams of the father,
or 'sins' if pure honesty
had its say. what i wouldn't
give for a beautiful wife,
obedient children, a gold
standard like this stanza's
length; prosperous--

preposterous. in my own
uncharted stream, i would
live out troye's dream. free
on the inside, eons removed
from demi's 'sober'. what
choice does one have but
to make pop stars their
patron saints? maybe
mr. a-z has the answer?

scribes and stagehands,
satirists and spirits so
wishfully kindred, i smile
in solidarity. each line a
flame of pathos, each tap
a letter in loosening of
veins, like makeshift gifts
of a medium we inhabit.

to my girl, a lady-to-be
of such unwavering faith,
love someone even when
the party's over. keep
your billie eilish close by
like a bluebird in my heart;
highwayman to highwoman.

but most of all to Him,
patient with my inevitable
candidness just as he would
if my bargain held up. if we
were in love, I might just
learn to trust myself again.
A little reliant on pop references :/
Brent Apr 2020
Longing for a love so deep
Deprives one the most peaceful sleep
You endlessly wonder what you lack,
And the lost opportunities you can't take back

You think you are the problem why
Why in this world, you cannot fly
But in reality you just cannot see
That you bleed of so much love and glee
My thoughts right now. Please take good care of yourselves x
I cannot think of a title for this one haha
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2019
you kinda cute

just kinda?
she objects,
clearly, a misspoken misadventure,
a middling-compliment

only, kinda?

she kinda further harrumphs
and goes back to a game of solitaire

“oh yes, everyone has their own cute,
yours, is kinda yours,
in a kinda cutie way,
don’t ask me to kinda define it,
would be kinda impossible”

she drops the sujet and I
pat nat on the back
for his slick escape,
not realizing that he been played,
when she, informed a poem been writ,
said, oh is the kinda poem done then?

1/17/19 900am
KJ Reed Aug 2019
We are all addicts
for all the things in our lives
that we can't control.
I can't help but want
validation from those I
surround myself with.
Secret Jun 2019
Tell me them
I want to hear you say it
I don't care if you don't mean it
Lie to me
I can't stand this
This unspoken hell
The hell that was unleashed suddenly
Talk to me at least

Altonulus Jun 2019
when did the whistle even blow?
i couldn't tell, but before i knew it i was running
(like) my life depended on it.
i didn't know why, but my legs kept holding me
up from the ground
i continued to run alone and a few miles later i
see others on the same path—a competition?
i didn't know.
every second, every minute was the same
i kept running further and further and the air seemed to get more suffocating, the sky a little less blue; me running in my tattered shoes.
time passed excruciatingly long and passed by, without me knowing, in a blink
i was still ignorant, not knowing why
i was running
i was going and how I ended up
more on the ground rather than up in the air
when everyone else was still running
and my knees hurt, the ground feels better than before, an escape from this marathon
it's not worth running
i watch as everyone passes me by, one glance
i have not another choice, like before, i go back into my running stance
i might be a bit
shoulders hanging, chin down as i lie low
pushing away wishes of starting with a bicycle
hoping there's the finish line, that i'm not
running in circles
before i know it, i'm back on my feet
why, how and for what i don't know
still, still the marathon doesn't end like the thoughts in my mind
it's 24/7
thinking back to when the whistle blowed
do i know why i run? when i'll stop? whether this is all just for fun? i know the answer still i don't—i can't stop
first poem on this website! hope i can find more poets and post more poems hehe~
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