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Nat Lipstadt Oct 18
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 23
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 16
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 8
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~
noir Jan 9

Sink into me

Breathe me in

Breathe me out

Drink my skin

Love me

Hold me

Die with me


<insert static text>
a more desperate version of myself. sadly beautiful to watch
matilda shaye Nov 2018
I want to ask you questions that you’re not going to want to answer. I miss the parts of you that you’re hiding away. There’s a guy that is rocking back and forth to our left and you show me him with your eyes; I want to trust you more than anything in this world.
Do you think of her? Do you miss her? Have you spoke? I’m scared I don’t believe you.
I drink wine now, I loathe this day. My skin is itchy and I miss the way your cheek feels against mine, you’ve never felt this far and one time I slept away from you for a full month-
Is this right? Is this real?
I miss your skin. I miss feeling connected with you, I miss being able to feel secure. I miss when I saw your hands move and didn’t wonder about her, I miss the purity, the simple,
I never was supposed to like the taste of wine. The guy is rocking. The guy is rocking.
im only keeping this to remind myself and everybody of being pathetic and rock bottom and never Ever forgetting my self Again
shana Nov 2018
I'm high from my train of thoughts
The thoughts, that's slowly killing me
And became the monster under my bed
For the past couple of years.
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