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Ander Stone Apr 23
I miss the nights spent
Under warm candle light,
Writing poetry together
Under the sheets
Of stormy skies.

I miss the mornings
Slipping through the fingers
That play with strands
Of wine red hair
And porcelain skin.

I miss the days that
Could have been,
If only I would have been
Brave enough to see
Myself in your eyes.

I miss the evenings
Caressing the glow
Of your life-giving,
ever-beckoning lips.

I miss the moments
That never happened.
I miss what we've never shared.
I miss the love that might've...
ky Jul 2023
I don't hate you.
After all that we went through,
I never hated you.
—I thought I could never hate you.

But then again,
I thought I knew you.

I thought you were that sweet, selfless guy,
the guy that cared about me more than anything,
who said he'd never hurt me.
Who told me he loved me.

But if you really cared about me more than anything,
and loved me as much as you claimed you did,
then you wouldn't have hurt me like you did now.

I wouldn't be sitting here
with tears streaming down my face,
writing these poems to get out the feelings
I otherwise bury inside.

I could never hate the boy I thought you were.
But you're not that boy at all,
at least, not anymore.
Francie Lynch Jul 2023
I've poured cement
On a love
That will never surface
Hoffaesque: Like Jimmy Hoffa
Anon May 2022
It's all I can do,
To drink so fast.
Quickly! Forget the love I thought would last.

She pined as I,
Though the miles lay far,
The torturing distance; left us both so apart.

"When will you come?",
Left answerless by me.
Everything working to part us endlessly.

Both left in tears,
And time took its toll,
Our hearts were left, with bleeding, soft holes.

"I'll come back!",
My vow,
"But when -- and how!?"

And to her,
I had no assurance,
Only a test of her endurance.

And her heart grew impatient,
And it built its thick wall,
At once when I came, it couldn't hear my call.

Now I shudder,
And now I quake,
For my delay was a final
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.
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
Nikhil Khandekar Aug 2015
My thoughts bear me back
I can hear self speak
To mediocrity n’ tack;
Horror, how my words leak!

Hear me dish out
What I was handed
My worst - Infernal spout -
The vermin banded.

If I do live in me mind
What Paradise I expect to find?
Despite the daughter, my sole joy, laughter
What! Must my body travail
From rafter to rafter?

Then again, vermin mill round
I tap away, coroner profound
Nikhil Khandekar Sep 2015
Why bemoan love’s loss?
To whose lot it may fall
Treat it akin to candy floss
One deprived may stand tall

When there’s no receipt
No dues are ever owed
Who never knew deceit
To him Gods have bow’d

What if sentiment
Is unrequited?
‘Tisn’t ornament
Cast off, de-spited

Loss of love is never an issue
Shun it, or plunge in anew!
When someone very special tells you that they would prefer someone else over you, it is a tough thing to deal with. You have no idea what you are gonna do. But if you want to fight it out, in the belief that maybe she still has that affection for you, you come up with a response. This poem is one such.

A true lover need not fear loss of love. For it's all his own.

Nikhil Khandekar Sep 2015
Dry winds of monsoon rainless
Caress my little hair idly
Fire crackers acrid painless
Waft up quite widely

The elements treat me fine
Yes, they are all democratic
Often verging on divine
Tho’ folks call em lunatic

Bother not, friends
Folks are easily dumb
That’s how it ends -
Tom, **** and a thumb

Tho’ nothing might augur well
Keep being until groundswell
Nikhil Khandekar Oct 2021
Oh, come on, now
I am old, not gung-**,
My limits at my door;
Stop sniveling, dumbo.

Can't look out for you
Tho' I'd commit anew
Every single day
That crosses my way

Can't keep it all turning gray
But, for you, yet I pray.
In life's twilight years, the poet looks back with a loving glance at those that have been the closest in his heart and wishes for more ... hence he resolves to pray for them.
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