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Something I should tell myself more often:

5 extra minutes
you spend in bed after your alarm
do nothing but
make you more late.

Perhaps you can relate.
AnneMarie Sep 29
It used to be so easy for me to write how I feel,
But now I constantly scribble, erase, and rip out that piece of paper addressed to you.

I used to feel safe expressing my emotions,
Today I constantly bite my tongue, smile, then nod, and leave what is on my mind unsaid.

The last thing you said was that you only came to say goodbye,
It just hurt because after all we been through we didn’t even bother to try.
if i found the right words to say... i would have said it, but i  honestly did not want to beg you to stay. i wanted you to stay because you wanted to.
everyone's going to hurt you, but how willing you are to forgive that that person worth it?
Linespace Sep 26
Dreams shifting visions of reality being bent directly into my cerebellum.
It's nice.
The day's are Sunny, and the air is hazy with good energy.
The sun vanishes and night encapsulates my psyche.
I hear splinters of conversations.
Fragments of discourse hurled into my dreamscape from their proper position in time.

This has happened before.
Same stories.
No. It has not happened before this moment, not in reality.
But being given this gift comes with the curse of the unknown;
Knowing what is to come
But never having a due date.
I don't want to be too early
and I hate to be too late
so show me, baby,
the risk that I should take.
can I TRY
Thomas C Sep 22
Breath in. Breath out.
Left foot. Right foot.
Right arm swing. Left arm swing.
Study. Work. Retire.
Agenda. Schedule. Plan.
You cannot plan for that.
Love without an agenda.
Love without a schedule.
Love without a plan.
Love with a beating heart.
Just. Love.
Luna Pan Sep 12
I know it was just a one night but i can't forget you.
The way you talk, the way you smile.
I know it was just a late night talk but i can't forget your intimacy.
The look in your deep egremnoi eyes while you are talking.
I know it was just a one night but i can't unlove you.
Creator Sun Sep 12
You're too late.
Too late
To stop what you inadvertently caused
Too late to apologise.

Too late to go back,
Too late to reverse
The damage you caused.
To him.
To me.

You're too late.
Too late to say sorry.
Too late to be sorry.
Too late.

You're just too late.
Don't be sorry.
He never wanted you to be sorry.
He just wanted you to notice him.
To acknowledge him.

Not to ignore him
Bash him
degrade him every time
Every time he comes to you
And asks for a second chance.

He is one of us.
He was one of us.
And you should live forever
In guilt
Of your sins.
A draft for a possible dialogue at the ****** of a passion project :)
Max Sep 5
What you doing?

I warned you, we both know you ****** it up.
****** up
Creator Sun Sep 3
Sorry doesn't cut it does it?
But it does.

It cuts into my skin, leaving trails of red,
Of crimson, of burgundy
Of a shameful, deep red.

I'm sorry, but you don't understand, do you?
You never do.

The rope feels inviting against my neck.
Oh how it fits my head!
Its forgiving roughness hugs my throat,
And I can't help but croak:

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you were never here to help me;
I'm sorry that I never felt happy;
I'm sorry that you caused me to do this
To me, to myself.

Sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

Now, you feel sorry.
You cry those **** tears of shame.
Tears that had pooled around my eyes
And grew, day by day.

You're sorry.

But sorry doesn't cut it, does it?

I'm already gone;
And you're here to stay;
With your sins of hate
And your late apology.

Sorry doesn't cut it.
So I felt that the previous poem was a bit messy, so here is another one. Sorry.
Dominique Aug 28
Sadness is a cotton t-shirt
Homely with food stains from stay-inside days
Creased by wringing hands that clawed to be held
Softened by the nails which balled into themselves
While you bawled your way past another attempt at productive action

Sadness is life with no mirrors and hair that's not-quite-greasy
But could easily survive a warm tangle with the shower
With nobody watching there's no body that needs washing
Not even your own eyes follow you around your moulding little corner

The fabric envelops you, swallows you whole, it's aromatic
Takes on the perfume of your ex-girlfriends, a sighing august breeze
Then returns to catch your tears like loose pearls in a world-wide fishing net
Water you shouldn't dare lose, won't bother to replace, watch the headaches

Sadness is not an appealing article of clothing
You couldn't sell it on e-bay or depop for anything above a pound
But you can sleep in it, hide in it, wear it out onto the street
To buy milk, grab the paper, greet the neighbours

Meet your friends

They might scratch at a crumb with the nail of their pinkie
But your fashion choices are not what drew them here
You'd get away with ******, the way they let you parade around
In sadness quite soft, sadness quite comfortable, sweet

Because sadness is a cotton t-shirt,
Baggy enough to muffle a pounding heartbeat.
"unless I live forever, I have to keep writing this ****"
I'm not even sad at the moment so who knows what hole this came out of :)
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