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Jack Jun 2022
Once a red beating heart,
Left with the void filled with emptiness,
The warmth used to linger around my finger,
Distinguished with frozen soul,
The world still black and white,
As I succumbed in the cold wind,
Struggle not to lose my last piece of sanity,
To the fantasy ceased to exist from reality
This endless slumber to find you in the thousand dream,
Wish for existence of you never fade,

From this abyss of despair,
As the last breath of mine,
Will be yours,
For us to meet,

Once again..
𝔄 𝔑𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔑 𝔬𝔫 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”¬π” π”’π”žπ”«,
𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔰𝔒𝔒𝔨𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 π”°π”žπ”©π”³π”žπ”±π”¦π”¬π”«.
𝔄𝔰 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”‘π”žπ”Ά 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔒𝔰 π”€π”¬π”¬π”‘π”Ÿπ”Άπ”’,
π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔫𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱 π”‘π”―π”žπ”΄π”° π”«π”’π”žπ”―π”Ÿπ”Ά,
ℑ𝔱 𝔒π”ͺπ”Ÿπ”―π”žπ” π”’π”° 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”ͺ𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱,
π”žπ”«π”‘ π”Ÿπ”―π”žπ” π”’π”° 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯π”ͺ 𝔴𝔦𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫.
𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔀 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”Ÿπ”žπ”±π”±π”©π”’π”° π”Ÿπ”’,
π”šπ”¦π”±π”₯𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔑𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔰π”₯𝔦𝔒𝔩𝔑𝔰.
ℑ𝔱’𝔰 π” π”žπ”²π”€π”₯𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔦𝔫 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯π”ͺ π”žπ”«π”‘
𝔗π”₯𝔲𝔫𝔑𝔒𝔯 π” π”©π”žπ”­π”° 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬 π”―π”’π”žπ”©π”¦π”±π”Ά.
𝔏𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔒𝔰 π”žπ”«π”‘ π”©π”’π”žπ”³π”’π”° 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”°π”­π”žπ”―π”¨π”°,
𝔗π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔯𝔒𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔑𝔩𝔒 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”£π”©π”žπ”ͺ𝔒 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔑𝔒𝔫 π”₯π”’π”žπ”―π”±.
𝔗π”₯𝔒 π”£π”©π”žπ”ͺ𝔒 𝔦𝔰 π”΄π”žπ”³π”Ά, π”Ÿπ”²π”± π”΄π”žπ”―π”ͺ
𝔗π”₯𝔒 𝔑𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔑 𝔫𝔬𝔴 π”‘π”―π”’π”žπ”‘π”° 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”‘π”žπ”΄π”«
𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔬 π”Ÿπ”―π”¦π”€π”₯𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔑 π”Ÿπ”©π”¦π”«π”‘ 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔒𝔢𝔒𝔰
𝔄𝔫𝔑 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔒 𝔰𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱
𝔬𝔣 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”£π”©π”žπ”ͺ𝔒 𝔯𝔒𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔑𝔩𝔒𝔑
𝔦𝔫 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔩𝔒𝔒𝔭 𝔬𝔣 π”‘π”žπ”΄π”«.

ℑ𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔰 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯π”ͺ 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± π”°π”±π”’π”žπ”‘π”¦π”©π”Ά 𝔑𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬 π”Ÿπ”žπ”Ά.

𝔗π”₯𝔒 𝔱π”₯𝔲𝔫𝔑𝔒𝔯 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔰𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔑𝔩𝔢 𝔴π”₯𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔒𝔯𝔰,
β€œβ„‘ π”žπ”ͺ 𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔒”
𝔄𝔰 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔩𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔒𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔳𝔒𝔯 π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔬𝔳𝔒𝔯,
𝔏𝔦𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔀 π”£π”©π”žπ”ͺ𝔒𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔒 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔫𝔒𝔳𝔒𝔯 π”Ÿπ”²π”―π”«π”° 𝔬𝔲𝔱.
ℑ𝔫 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”―π”žπ”€π”’ 𝔬𝔣 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯π”ͺ,
𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”―π”žπ”¦π”« 𝔑𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔰
π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔒𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔑𝔯𝔢 π”©π”žπ”«π”€π”²π”¦π”‘ 𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰.

π•Ώπ–π–Š π–‰π–—π–Žπ–‹π–™π–œπ–”π–”π–‰, π–‘π–Šπ–™ π–Žπ–™ π–‡π–Š π–’π–Š
𝖆𝖓𝖉 π–™π–π–Š π–˜π–™π–”π–—π–’ π–˜π–π–†π–‘π–‘ π–‡π–Š π–™π–π–Šπ–Š,
𝕴𝖓 π–™π–π–Š π–”π–ˆπ–Šπ–†π–“ 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 π–Žπ–˜ π–”π–šπ–— π–‘π–”π–›π–Š,
π–”π–“π–ˆπ–Š π–‰π–Šπ–†π–‰ π–“π–”π–œ π–†π–‘π–Žπ–›π–Š.
𝕴’𝖑𝖑 π–‘π–Šπ–™ π–žπ–”π–šπ–— π–™π–π–šπ–“π–‰π–Šπ–—π–˜ π–œπ–π–Žπ–˜π–•π–Šπ–— π–Žπ–“ π–’π–ž π–Šπ–†π–—,
𝕱𝖔𝖗 π–žπ–”π–šπ–— π–‘π–Žπ–Œπ–π–™π–“π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–“π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–— π–˜π–™π–”π–•π–˜ π–˜π–™π–—π–Žπ–π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–’π–ž π–œπ–”π–”π–‰π–Šπ–“ π–π–Šπ–†π–—π–™.
𝕴 π–œπ–†π–“π–™ 𝖙𝖔 π–‹π–”π–—π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–— π–Œπ–Šπ–™ π–‘π–”π–˜π–™ π–Žπ–“ π–™π–π–Žπ–˜ π–˜π–™π–”π–—π–’.
π•Ώπ–π–”π–šπ–Œπ– π–‘π–”π–“π–Œ π–œπ–Žπ–‘π–‘ π–™π–π–Š π–‡π–†π–™π–™π–‘π–Šπ–˜ π–‡π–Š,
𝕴𝖓 π–™π–π–Š π–“π–Žπ–Œπ–π–™π–˜ π–œπ–Žπ–™π–π–”π–šπ–™ π–™π–π–Šπ–Š.
When the love starts to fade...and begin to reminisce. As weak as that love feels, it's there, you just have to poke the fire and add some wood. Give it some lovin' and surely you'll find warmth.
I appreciate the read.
Β© 2 years ago, snoW
Francie Lynch Apr 2022
I'm hardly the one
You left behind,
Twenty odd years ago;
The suit fits much better,
Now I'm in the show.
I'm not using slight-of-hand,
No smoke or mirrors,
Just running sand;
The big tent long left town.

I know the four directions,
And how my wind will blow.
And even at a four way stop
I know who has the right-of-way.
And when it's my turn to turn,
I'll step on the pedal and spin my wheels
And drive myself insane.
The Misconstrued Mar 2022
Craving for that quick fix, the euphoric yet momentary feeling of being loved,
Mustering up enough empathy, love and kindness to give, even though I am starved,

Walking down dark alleys, searching in all the wrong places,
Quick taste of the sample has me blurring out all the bad memories and faces,

Until, I am yet again brutally mugged,
Robbed by people often disguised as friends and family the minute I’m sufficiently drugged,

I wallow in pain and self-pity,
Over and over, it’s the same story,

Falling from a new height to an even newer low,
There’s heartbreak wherever I go.
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2021
Your memories are a poem
Presented to me at the end of the bar.
Alone & fleeting; an escape from reality.
Wanting to take part in the meeting
Of strangers; A variety of faces exchanging
****** temptation disguised as liquid courage.
Chased by the thought of not being alone
Your memories are a poem
Refilled soon as it's emptied. Wished away,
Wanting to be pursued
In exchange for monetary currency.
Bad ideas that roam the ideology of good,
You fill me, I feel you.
I stand & I stumble around the thought of you.
You start to leave me soon as I start to feel you
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2021
It's been so many nights
I've scrolled down my contact list
& Highlighted your name.
So many nights you've crossed
My mind and never left.
Wherever you call home
Wherever I call home.
Places I thought we'd never go
Desperate finding our way back.
You're name a direct reflection
Of the sun,
My finger an eclipse.
Unknown to the philosophers
And professors who study science.
It's been so many nights
I've scrolled down my contact list
& Your name has shone bright
Like some shooting star
Searching for something it's lost.
Knowing our history
You'd have to be there to have
Seen it.
Without first contact,
I miss you every time
Ravindra gora Oct 2021
When i stand in
front of a mirror,
i see my reflection
"bruised" and "battered",
the injuries not being
seen by mortal eye

so here's a conversation
with me

THE REAL ME: π–ˆπ–”π–’π–•π–‘π–†π–Žπ–“π–˜
I curse it for being so naive,
i reprimand it for not
saying the right things
to me that time,
for not showing me this
picture of myself during that
period , when the devil possessed me..

THE MIRROR ME:π–†π–—π–Œπ–šπ–Šπ–˜
I indeed told you that,
you were not doing the right thing

THE REAL ME: π–—π–Šπ–’π–Šπ–’π–‡π–Šπ–—π–˜
i suppressed those weak,
feeble voices that arose within me,
bringing down my elation..
but then , i had wanted that
high epitomising feeling more than
this bleak pin poking statement..

THE REAL ME: π–˜π–ˆπ–”π–‘π–‰π–˜
why were you not too powerful
to overpower my descision??

THE MIRROR ME:π–‰π–Šπ–‹π–Šπ–“π–‰π–˜
When you yourself were too
weak to hold you own love,
how do you expect me to
be powerful??
after all i reside within you..

THE REAL ME HAS NOTHING TO SAY
, BUT STARE AT ITS OWN REFLECTION...
WELL, THIS IS THE CLOSEST POEM TO ME,
I HAVE WRITTEN TILL NOW...
Francie Lynch Oct 2021
A once dear friend
And I met up;
Twenty years since we spoke,
And neither one could talk.
We left each other's company
On terms of disagreement.

The ice was thick;
The air was clouded;
We stood beneath the shade.

The mountain didn't fall;
The earth didn't swallow;
The roof stayed on.
Nothing cracked our uncertainty.

Then we misquoted some old
Misunderstood memories
Of why we went our ways.
And felt the same.
La NΓ³mada Sep 2021
He’s like the tide
A surfer must enjoy his ride
Dive in and swim, revering him
Forgetting what’s outside
His waves are wondrous, warm, enchanting
Adventure filled in all their crashing
The ocean though
Has rules you know, and those it cannot break
For as I try to fight the tide
I find it’s my mistake
No Siren’s Song
No tug along
Could change his constant wake
As good as it may feel to me
To bask amidst his splendor
His salty sea breath smothers me
Unable to surrender
He’s faithful as he’s always been
Unchanging, strong, and genuine
It’s me, you see
Too wild and free
To float in him forever

Does he love me?
I think so
But oceans know their bounds
So as I go beyond his flow
The follow earthly sounds
Perhaps he’d like to follow me
To soar the mountain peaks
To leave the sea, dance blissfully
With sunlight on his cheeks
Perhaps he would create with me
a world of our design
Alas he knows that sea is sea
And he can never follow

Does he love me?
I know so
Although he can’t come with me
To sandy shore, find earth’s galore
***’ he is he – part of the sea
Entrapped by gravity
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