Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
jersey 2d
It’s 02:12 and I don’t think about you anymore.

Except for when I wake up in the morning to texts that aren’t from you.
And when I go to sleep without anyone wishing me sweet dreams.
How did I live so long without these things?
How do I live without them again?

It’s 02:15 and I don’t think about you anymore.

Except for when I’m upset
and you’re the only voice who can soothe me.
Or when I’m happy
and you’re the only person I want to share it with.
Or when I'm simply bored
and I’m in the mood to get on your nerves.
Who do I talk to now?
Why don't I want to talk to anyone else?

It’s 02:21 and I don’t think about you anymore.

Except for when your favorite song plays
and I blast it as high as my speakers go and pretend you’re here listening with me.
These songs don’t comfort me anymore.
They feel like ringing in my ears and knives in my heart.
Why can't I find it in me to skip them?
When will these songs just be songs again?

It’s 02:24 and I don’t think about you anymore.

Except for every second of every day.
There is always something new I want to tell you
but you don’t care anymore.
I keep these thoughts in a log in my head,
“To tell Them later.”
When is later?
Why do I keep lying to myself and pretending there is a later?

It’s 02:27 and I don’t think about you anymore.

Except for when I fall asleep and dream of you.
No one prepared me for the way you’d infiltrate my psyche.
You’ve lodged yourself deep in my subconscious.
Why won’t you leave?
Why won’t I let you leave?

But it’s 02:30 and I don’t think about you anymore.
Louise 4d
But he's out there standing tall,
making a difference
while I'm sitting here, falling short,
staying the same.

But he's far away, far-sighted
and breaking new grounds,
while I'm at arm's length, half-blind
and on the verge of breaking his heart.

And every day he's fulfilling
a bigger purpose.
And come what may, I am only
writing of sad proses.

And he's moving relentlessly,
he's ever-growing.
And I'm staying stuck and dry,
I am simply withering.

From his stares,
I would most likely seem small.
And I think he knows
by now he have won.

With his touch,
I would most likely feel like a little girl.
And I'm trying to grow
So I'll try to go...
Louise May 11
What do you say to fear when it settles in?
Do you ask it to leave?
Do you run away from it?
Or do you look it in the eye
and crawl closer in?
Do you befriend it?
Or do you swear it's enemy?
Do you set it on fire, cover its tracks?
Or do you run your hands
tenderly down its cheeks?

What do you do when fear takes over?
Do you fight it?
Or do you ask it of its favorite color?
Do you talk to it too soon
about the weather and the future,
hoping it leaves on its own so soon, too?
Or do you savour it slowly day by day,
and pray every night that it will stay?
Do you decide that you are bigger than mere emotions, or do you embrace that such a feeling can overpower even your body?

And what do you do when fear
finally runs away?
Do you kneel and thank the good heavens,
or do you bow and beg hell for it to return?
Do you stay in bed, curl up and cry,
or do you defy and run
the hundreds of miles?
Do you ask for it to stay
and settle down with you?
Do you surrender
and ask it to take over you?
Do you stay and surrender,
do you settle down and take over each other?
Do you accept the where and when
of the right here and right now,
or do you decide that there is no forever;
that even fear can flourish into brand new feelings, take you to new heights,
so new that you have no choice but to embrace it,
accept that such feelings can indeed overpower
your body, mind and spirit,
and encompass your logic, reason
and instincts?

Tell me, look me in the eye...
Crawl closer in...
Set me on fire, run your hands tenderly down my cheeks...
What do you say?
What do you do?
In this poem, the basic human feeling of fear is personified as the writer's lover. The writer portrays bouts of confusion, excitement and asks anxious questions, mostly whether if she should run away from from her lover out of fear or if she should draw him closer by her side. At the end of the piece, the writer finally asks her lover what he would say and do, alluding that her lover too, feels fear towards her or their relationship.
You stared at me
Longing
But didn't say anything
You were too far away
In your mind
So you wrote it down
And handed it to me...
I never saw words look
So deep before
Love notes...words can stare
N May 4
A dream of you is capable of
unleashing so many hidden desires,
I dare not speak of

I have tired to bury every
tender feeling I held for you,
only for it bloom again

You, who sickens me
with immense tenderness
I cannot defy by myself

Your voice alone turns me
into a weakened thing,
and I am forever unwell before you

I wish to plague your thoughts,
and to consume your frigid heart

I wish to escape you entirely,
and to always be near you
Oh, you.
Pink Hat May 2
I see waves of gold - water that traps a fading sun. I see a shimmer - a spread of fractured light that drifts like a net that no longer steals from the ocean. I see your feet - toes spread and curled into the sand - holding you in place even if it is just for a moment. Your eyes - blue as the angels on the diptych - gaze across to places that embodies our separation. You have so much in fragments of beauty. The vast empty spaces are filled by nature’s broken parts and you - embrace it all. I can only imagine where you stand; the air you breathe; the scenes that lift your spirits - and I sink further into the recesses of my mind. If only my salt water was that of the sea. Mine - is closer to home as it cascades and travels through the heart and blurs.
diptych is the Wilton Diptych
Eve Apr 23
Is it weird to miss a feeling that you're not sure even existed?

-fir.m
Katie Apr 12
So far above is she,
Strewn in a chair in a chaotic workspace,
Stricken from my reach by a sheet of glass.

Can she even see me?
Penning notes and sheets of music apace,
As days and weeks, too fast, pass.

I long to know her,
I long to be her,
I long to stand by her side,
I long to become her bride.

But alas.
This art is meant for someone else.
102
Next page