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It always starts this way...
you fold a paper airplane
throw it up...watch it fly...swoop
only to crash
"Its like love" he said
turning over in bed
the next time he spoke
he asked for money

"Its like love" I thought...as 
I walked out the door
thinking...nothing is ever like love...
what good is it to compare
what you want....and what is
"nog eentje" I say...and sip beer quickly
it's always so dark over here

one foot then the other...
keep...counting as you...make your...way
across tracks and cobbles
through crowds and rain
one drink too many.....but always too few
a separate issue now
no longer love in question
just lust and hunger for release

"are you alone now" he said
"no...I'm with you"
He reaches for my hand...
I'm reaching for my drink...
we collide and....glass smashes 
to the floor....bleeds red wine

a calm feeling now....after kissing and ***
the smell soothes...yet...creates confusion
an odour of such delight makes one feel...
feel so filthy...."its a necessary evil" he said
and as i close the last shirt button
I say "believe me...it has nothing to do with heaven"
I'm a spectator, maybe even an occasional commenter,
But my borders limit me.
The bubble, it magnifies everything,
And shifts waves so that I see all in a different light.

It's truly beautiful,
But you have to understand how my world view and experience is different from yours.
An ant to you can be a world to me.
Often, its too much,
But you think I'm just being dramatic.

Its isolating, to be trapped within it.
I can't quite reach out to others,
So I'm always just at the border.

I graze my fingers over the surface.
Just past it, normalcy.
I'm so close
Yet so
so
far.
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
all alone
Lonely bird
Lonely bird
on its own,
no type of empathy, or
sorrow is shown,
just sad and lonesome,
no friends, all alone,
just sitting on a tree branch,
singing lullabies,
fighting back tears,
of lonely bird cries,
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
questions why???
why are you so lonely,
as you weep and cry,
Lonely bird,
Lonely bird,
wipe your
tears away,
You have a Friend in Jesus
He will Brighten up your day!!


B.R.
Date: 3/2/2025
When the day is over and I see the moon shine its light through my window, I feel this overwhelming wave of sadness and loneliness
These painfull thoughts that I'm trying to hopelessly push away, climb back in to my head and begins to drip down my face  as tears
But everytime I see my self come back to these familiar feelings and fill my head with these thoughts of loneliness, I feel in this twisted way more alive than ever

Although the truth probably is
I have never felt loved in my entire life

As my heart pumps this liquid that is filled with pain and thoughts of giving up
As my head wonders
What's the point of meeting new people if   if even I can't stand to look myself
Maybe if I just exist and push through my heart will go numb
Maybe I'm just invisible Maybe we all are
Maybe we see those who we love orhate
Maybe I'm just overthinking
Maybe it's just all in my head
Maybe I will just shut my brain

Maybe I will just end it all someday

But one thing is certain that day is not today
kathleen Mar 1
I’m in a room full of people who "love" me
and love each other,
and they’re talking to each other
while I smile, my eyes twitching from face to face,
twiddling my fingers
in an attempt to hold onto something—
to keep me breathing.

I’m in a room full of people who "love" me
and love each other,
and they’re failing to notice
I’m not there.

I’m alone.
Maria Feb 28
I turned out the lights in my room.
I tightly pulled the curtains.
Your wilted bouquet is on the table.
Its dropping petals are so uncertain.

I’m not waiting for you anymore.
I closed my doors firmly.
If you call me, I won't sadly come.
It didn't work out. I'm lonely.

I'll make black coffee without milk.
I'll be up the whole night.
Now I have to find myself.
I said "Goodbye" to you last night.
Suhei Feb 28
Hiding there was little boy, who afraid of dark
As he grew, he understand nothing is blessing and nothing he ever finish was death itself
Death
Falling Awake Feb 28
An olive branch,
in hot September,
on a bridge of embers,
entices the *** to stir.

But her table’s always empty,
even if food was plenty-
too broke, too broken
for any to gather around.

A med concoction,
from no other option,
except the great allure…

A barren planner,
hung on a sun faded wall,
by a nail ripping through
it’s cross-stitched heart.

This is what reminds her-
Reminds her she’s all alone.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

Dad says the house must be clean,
or my friend can’t come.
He is coming tomorrow—he really is.

The vacuum only holds so much.
I work all day.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

But it’s not clean.
I sweep and sweep—maybe I weep.
The tears stain. It’s not clean.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.

I put my toys away.
I stack and stack,
boxed and neat.
But I imagine a game.
I play alone—still make a stain.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.
Yet I’m still playing alone
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