[The lines of the hands formed a complex map]

Reality strikes
The days pass by
Two lines
Different seasons
Separate stations

[Reality hitting on the rocks]

Curve line erasing the good things of the past
2 drops of water falling on the way to the office
  |        |
  |        |
  |        |  Old soundtrack passes over parallel tracks
Theater full, broken line

Days pass and pass
Birthdays pass, not words
Difficult to pretend to be well
No words happen

Places I’m not, line closed
Places you are not, closed line

Romanticism doesn’t feel the same as maps on our maps
2 parallel drops fall
|                               |
The game hits me against the rocks
You don’t follow me in a straight line

[Reality catches me]

there are no words
there is nothing
thick fog

The same lines
Now they are parallel
Your reality hits

[The lines in my hand no longer form a map]

   - Codelandandmore // 4:00 PM ©

Eat drama food

The lines down my wrists dictate what I've done

the two lines leading
to her tiny chin
when she smiles,
they are
my poem.

the two lines when she
sips from her coffee mug
by each eye
I clearly see them.

the neck lines
between her collarbones
beneath her necklace
those two I breathe them

the first sip
and the two frowning lines
at the heat of the coffee
I don't believe them


and neither
do I believe
the coffee was more
than an excuse
for all of our skin lines
to meet

Nayana Nair Apr 20

I feel two lines etched on my face.

One longer than the other.

Feeling a little more colder

each time I step out.

They will lie there,

and dry there,

but never erased.

Deadmute Apr 2

She doesn't love me but she's reading my poems.

Chris Neilson Mar 29

I stared into the face of the man in the mirror
looking older than the Penny Black stamp today
lines and creases of years of wearisome worry
anti ageing creams won't help or soothe them away

Sailed the passage of time laden with luggage
never left in the hold or put on hold
a burdensome voyage of unnecessary anxiety
the mirrored reflection a pitiful sight to behold

Arcassin B Mar 17

by Arcassin Burnham


Would you stay or would you flee?
Would you go as far as burying the love you've always seeked?
Gravitating towards the things that make you sane is the key,
so why do you speak to me?

Would you fall or be on your lonesome in a world full
of demons that'll see you lose some,
of your sanity and dignity, hell is not fun,
Seen some carnations of that'll make you scream and run then call
on the chosen one immediately after seeing the sun,
praising unfair guidelines instead of the man that made
us all,
Breaking laws is why the world ain't free that's why we fall,
Looking for a sanctuary that won't disappoint us,
He warned us.

©abpoetry2017
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/03/country-filled-streets.html
Ashlea Mar 7

I literally can’t go to the mall
Without doing my homework first.
And I literally can’t take my money
Without carrying a purse.
I literally can’t text my friends
Without having my parents see.
I literally can’t leave the house
Without having my annoying brother with me.

I literally can’t do this and that.
I literally can’t own a cat.
There are literally so many things I want to do,
But I LITERALLY can’t do those, too.

This is a poem where I embraced my inner middle school girl. The assignment for one of my methods courses was to create a poem with a recurring word or phrase.
Elaise G Feb 28

Meaningless lines on my wrist,
I suppose is what you'd think.
Foolish, these markings mean much more than "immaturity",
A lot more, if you cared to listen.
If only you took a step back to look at the bigger picture.
It speaks a lot, doesn't it?
You're just afraid of what you don't understand.

Fun to walk around with lines on your wrist, says the things you can't say.
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