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little lion Aug 31
I have not gotten more than four hours of sleep a night in over two years,
with the single exception being the time you held me to you, moulded me to your body and let me settle, perfectly fit against you like clay.
My only reprieve was your presence beside me that night.

But as you were my reprieve, I was your escape.
A temporary solution to a long-term problem that you were not yet ready to address:
the weight of it remained in the shadows of that night
and the days that followed,
the weeks we spent together
and the nights I longed to be cradled against you once more.

I ignored it the way one ignores an expiration date... hesitantly paying attention at first, then slowly becoming secure in the false-hope that maybe that day will never come,
that things will simply last forever.

youmouldedthepartsofmethatyouneededtofillyourcracksthen­broketherestofmeonceyouwerefixed.

It's been 54 days since we last spoke,
7 months since we last embraced,
9 months since we last kissed,
353 days since that night.


It's been over 730 days since I last slept,
and 353 days since I woke up to a life I wanted to live.

I wish you had been a dream...
I cannot keep living this nightmare.
I thought I was getting over her, but the loneliness of last night proved just how much she ruined me.
Neelam Jun 15
His heart sensed the hunger
of a stray dog,

And the pain of an orphan.

Because his constant companion
is his own shadow.

No one understood his silence,

No one saw the pain behind
his smiles,

And no one knows that he is
gradually waning,

In his own shadow.
A lonely man.
little lion Feb 19
I don't want to love you anymore.
but how am I supposed to make myself fall out of love
with the one who taught me
what love really feels like?
Mel Feb 9
Under your porcelain eyes,

there is nothing but an empty cracked mind
I feel so lost sometimes
Carlo C Gomez Jan 16
Flowers lost in measure
At an outstretched hour
Born sightless in the once
Sacrosanct hedgerows
Picked belatedly

--And invisibly so--

Taken from their family
To unconditional surrender
Upon a cold stark table
Where those assembled
Finished off love with their meal

--And invisibly so--
Alice Dec 2020
I've never had the privilege to be
the main character
never enough for a leading role

always bleeding plain red
instead of magic
Anne Nov 2020
Things grow,
weeds in the usual spots.
Dusted red shoulders shrug
into runny noses.
I feel my sticky breath,
I can’t see it.
It’s snowing again.

It’s been so long.
Or was it yesterday?
I crave loving,
I long to long.

This body is a spoiled good,
rotting foundation,
Roof collapsed.
Cuts and dyes aren’t anymore.
To be loved is to grow,
to feel,
to change.

How is this mess supposed to clean itself?
It’s safer in the dark.
I want to be good,
but I can’t turn this **** into art anymore.
There is nothing poetic about this type of pain.

So, what do I do with it?
Isaac Nov 2020
I have been getting high
Waking up without a clear ending of the last night
Living in the present until I can fly
To a new world, of new forms
To a new world, with reform
So I don’t have the burden of truth that I must succumb to
Do not have to prove my worth to anyone if I don’t want to
To just float around and kiss the cheeks of many
Not a servant of capitalism, no thoughts of pennies
Or nickels, just the dime that caught my eye
Just a leaf that sits on the breeze
Someone destined for me
Who I will find in the time
My karma coming to my side
No negativity only prizes
Whatever falls down will continue rising
SøułSurvivør Nov 2020
Looting. Burning.
Building's fire.
They rob and mob.
They do not tire.
Some are anarchists.
Some for hire.
The TV blasts. It is a liar.
An airplane skims
a telephone wire.

Where is it going?
Where can it land?
Every runway
shifting sand.
All citizens
are in their bands.
We are under
Judgement's Hand.

America.
Alive with stasis.
All opponents
in their places.
No room for love
in those rat races.
We could be gone
without any traces.

No trace of culture.
No money earned.
All gain is stealing.
Compassion spurned.
Museums raided.
Books are burned.

Hard to watch it.
Trees are felled.
Racial violence.
Hatred sells.
Anthropology
gone to hell.

All hope is
A WISHING WELL.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/18/2020
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