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Samantha Marie Nov 2017
I write to you often, I have multiple goodbye letters
Expressing the the things I was never able to say
How I actually started falling for you
Saw a future with you, I regret not letting you know that you meant something to me.
I also write letters of hate towards you, asking why you chose me, was I a joke to you, did you just want me for lust, was it all a lie.
I write you letters on how much I miss you, even though you hurt me I still miss you.

I write to you with no intention of ever showing you
11/7/17
I guess this is another letter for you
Irina BBota Nov 2017
No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just an interpreter of tales in which tears are drops of longing ...
Tales, in which I hear through my ears
echoes of an invisible and indivisible world ...
I sometimes like to pour myself a little red
and sweet wine of the silence cup,
the inner silence is erupting from me,
which seems to me to be a deaf-mute dispute between heart and reason ...

No, I'm not a poet.
Only words are fighting against me,
but still, I feel my heart is lifting in their arms,
with the same intensity as at the beginning...
The letters in my words do not need arguments,
they just want to free themselves,
to touch souls more and more, joining in verses,
their destinies being knotted with rhymes ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a human beeing who, for a few moments,
has a breath of inspiration,
swallowing with greed the air from the room
where I lay down my silence, my love, my longing,
trying to transform words into a vibrant power, almost tangible.
Sometimes I use words with a killing flesh of attraction,
like a masterful crowning of the letters that take hold of my pen...
and sometimes with a gentle, sweet glance,
whispering voluptuously, making my rhymes fall on their knees ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I just measure the universe with a hungry, critically eye-catching curiosity,
while the aroma of my coffee is flowing in the air,
escaping from the espresso,
mysteriously and dazzling...
I just caress the words on the pavements of the lyrics
peeled by the rains of the heart where the letters are sad and lonely...

Now I retire with a slight bow,
as an unspoken satisfaction, in front of all those who read me,
in front of the ones you know me...
A delusive lust to write a few lyrics has taken me by surprise...
maybe about truth, maybe about numb dreams,
maybe about the cure of lost hearts... which is love!
Michael Joseph Nov 2017
It struck me, like the heat underneath
my palms and the love we shared
under the glare, beyond the beats
I long to feel, now snared.

Wish the clock can stop its tick
with roses, thorns, and ******
the heat, another magic trick
going deep, going quick, a strong kick

is fading. yet I ravish you today
with a kiss, or a bliss of bites
with a tease, or a wistful play
a fading, yet no regret.

for I loved you like this heat
with its embrace and curse
I loved you for the beat
but the water quenched my thirst.
I was trying to upload a lot since I was inactive because of the workload of teaching literature.
Galbraith Frase Nov 2017
Ombre sunrise awoke those precious eyelids,
Learning a decent female in a castle, where she lives.
Catastrophes behold, proceeding every corner, every edge.
An oath above the shore, reforming a line of a pledge.

She would wear sunflower shorts with a casual pair,
Down to the east, she would be curious, what could a human bear?
And to the west, she would dream of red-tulip flowers,
Screaming to the coast, overall, she has the strength to empower.

Where had it been, she still wishes through the fantasy magic wells.
Because then, she would and she could write him letters,
Every now and then,
With a beginning and an end,
Perfect enveloped sheets she had sent.

Sometimes she's quite an assembly of lost letters and stars,
It took her long to realize that the boy she once loved has broken her heart,
Most midnights, she would have nightmares but those are beautiful ones,
What is to care? She's just Esther, a relevant decent woman.
November feels warm and bold, writing this one literally made me calm down my anxiety.
hayami Oct 2017
&
i write a letter for you everyday
you will never get them
une d’amour lettre
a confession
for a love you will never witness
a love that i will never experience
i write a letter everyday
-i keep writing to him. its hopeless
Tiago Mariano Oct 2017
Lacking emotion, i express through the words
These words so soundful, who echoe from the tunnels
Once inside, never come out on the other hole
Letters marked, throughout my nerves, as part of my body
A body filled with pain, shared with plenty
Rises from the ground, not coming out of the sky
If words could be changed, why didn't people change with them?
Probably because were humans, and we all make mistakes.
sometimes all you gotta do is remove It's meaning for all to be okay, making mistakes is part of humans and humans alone
Abraham Oct 2017
My baby left on a train
to another town
with her finger she wrote
"Maybe" on the glass
then pulled the shutter down.

How long is a "Maybe"?
when will my baby
be coming home?

My baby wrote only once
in fifteen years
it was the cruelest thing
you ever did see
'cos at the bottom of the page
she signed it with a -
"Maybe"...

My baby left on a train
to another town

My baby left on a train
to another town.

(Fade out)
Randall Walker Oct 2017
In the time before,
I was empty, miserable inside,
A wretch whose every smile was war,
Whimpering for a curtained place to hide.

The day, desolate;
Night, in its black stillness much the same.
Pitched pain, itching for an exit,
Legs set to cease the heaving hate and blame.

Now, I feel my heart
Beating love-blest power through my chest.
Before unfelt, its bucking start
Divests the owner, all along mere guest.

Symphony, rise, crest,
Condescend to my low-sighted view.
I sleep to wake, straight-up obsessed,
Eight letters and a period for you.

Careful now, don’t jest,
Lest my past peers profitable heist,
Dethroned selves sing out through the mesh,
Anguished, set to vanquish their sole poltergeist.

So, patch; never cease
Paragon of love’s delightful dawn,
Persisting for the barest piece
Of you, the whole of why I am not gone.
A little something
I've been working on
For my one and only
Truly only one.
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