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mikey preston Nov 24
and what is a shape
when everything’s fake
isosceles,
i can’t breathe
one thing having athsma taught me
is the shape of a ribcage
when i saw it on screen
Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.
Emery Feine Oct 29
do you hear the sizzle of my lungs
as they slowly burn to ashes?
my head is an anchor, weighing down
bringing me to the floor
i cannot breathe
i am aching
the doctor said i was fine
but the moment i left
and breathed in the poisonous fresh air
i wheezed
i could not breathe
my lungs were on fire
some people pretend im fine
but i see it in their eyes
how they’re pretending
some people avoid me
as to not get sick
to save their freezing lungs
the fire is spreading throughout my body
my face is red
my throat is burning
im fading out
my lungs are on fire
i cannot breathe.
this is my 130th poem, written on 10/28/24.
Abi Winder Aug 31
anger has always been a strand in my DNA.
i inherited this from my father.

it lives buried deep in my chest.
i feel it slightly when i breathe.

a constant throb,
a pit, inside my lungs.

i feel this rage so deeply,
i am used to its presence.

i do not know what it would be like to live without it.
to breathe without it.
She is my comfort in my storm,
The breath in my lungs
The soul in every poem that I write

When her hands are on my body
And her lips are on my neck
Her name is the prayer on my tongue
I never believed in religion until she had me on my knees for her
We look at the sky
peering up beyond
beyond the last birds seeking home
and the last rays of sun sinking behind the clouds
but generally we see nothing
it takes complete darkness
to really see what lies
in the ******* beyond
but even then we forget
the millions of miles separating
us and the stars
twinkling almost sadly in the distance

We are made of stardust
yes, that is true
basic elements connect us all
in hues of an artist's color wheel
but why do we acknowledge
something so far
when we are really more like what is right beneath our feet

Dirt
overlooked but completely necessary
allowing us to exist in our natural form
something we touch
and through that touch
we feel the energy of the world

Flow

flowing like the blood through our veins
flowing like the river down a mountainside
flowing like the song out a bird
like the ocean 'round a great whale
like the air into our lungs
like the tears from our eyes

just like the feelings from our hearts
LC Apr 2022
my first step cracked the ground like phyllo pastry / alarms pierced through dense air that struggled to reach my lungs / massive acrid pills fell from the darkening sky / inching closer to me with every second / as if the world was demanding for me to swallow them / my body absorbed lightning faster than it could ever charge through the sky / my heart seized with every glance / so I kept my eyes downcast / settling on a strong smooth obsidian / that rested below the ground / tremors overtook my hands / and I leaped onto the stone.
This is the poem I wrote for the first day of Escapril (created by Savannah Brown). The prompt is "when I opened my eyes," and this is my interpretation. I hope you enjoy it, and my poem for the second day will be posted later today!
fika Mar 2022
I wish I was the cigarette
Perched, between your lips
Inhale me-

To make up for all the times
You let me down-

Down
Down
Down

We can only go up from
Here
Inhale me like it's your last breath.
A M Ryder Jan 2022
Sometimes she blows
Cigarette smoke
In your face and
You call that love
Not because it is
But because
You want it to be

You're so ******* lonely
So ******* unable
To handle the
Ocean roar in your
Ears when you're alone

You tell yourself
That the ash in
Your lungs is
As good as
A kiss good night.
Skin on soil - I sink
My lungs a network of roots,
I breathe with the leaves.
One with nature
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