#melancholy poems on Hello Poetry

Will 2d

Kicked down.
Cold floor. Breath thinner than the air.
Get up.
Hands reach, no grip.
Alone, lost again.
Crying echoes back to silence.
Floods of tears—
no ark, no warmth, just noise.

Thrown down.
Fallen,
too many times.
Get up, try again.
But the hands,
they never pull me up.
Just flickers of light—
brief, empty.
Alone. Lost.
I shout, but no one hears.
A flood of tears,
they turn their backs.
Flee.
Craving warmth,
but it's just cold silence.

Craving safety, security.
A place to breathe.
But the love that’s offered,
it’s conditional.
Harsh words.
Poking, pain,
no softness.
Empty arms,
no warmth.
Alone again,
lost in the night.
I’m down here,
on the cold floor.
Don’t leave me here—
please.
Not again.
Afraid.
Empty.

A burden.
A disappointment.
That’s all I am.
A ghost, never seen,
only felt.
I love, yet all I get is hate.
Thrown back at me,
cold, sharp.
No warmth for the lost,
just more silence.
Another night on the floor,
cold,
alone.

The darkness is heavy.
I can’t rise.
Maybe this is where I belong,
buried beneath the weight.
The coldness, the grime.
No line thrown.
Alone, I sink deeper.
This feels like home—
empty, silent,
a place no one calls their own.
Another night,
heart breaking,
again.

I’m sorry.
For whatever I’ve done,
to push you away.
I can't believe it turned out like this.
Is this the end?
Another night,
more tears,
more silence.
I only wanted a place,
to belong,
to feel seen.
But I guess that’s too much to ask.

Going through a lot right now. Feeling scared. Might be homeless soon, but at least I'll have my partner. Feeling devastated that my choice of partner needed to many relationships within my religious family.

#loneliness #isolation #lgbtq #heartbreak #emptiness #melancholy #darkness #longing #pain #selfreflection

Kiernan Norman 3d

Half-Winter, Half-Wishbone

February bites down—
wind with a switchblade edge,
sky like the underbelly of something dead,
clawing at a season that turns its back,
half-winter, half-wishbone,
stuck in the throat of the year.

Sidewalks crack like dry lips.
Trees wear loneliness like a borrowed skin—
bare, brittle, bracing for something
that never arrives.

The sky stays gray,
an unanswered text.
Days sink like forgotten receipts in my tote,
asking things I can’t answer,
whispering, Didn’t you think you’d feel different by now?
Didn’t I?

The cold is a debt I keep paying in shivers,
in chapped hands, in mornings that taste like spoiled perfume
and dreams of other cities, where I wake up panting,
where I breathe out his name like an epiphany,
and let my eyes sigh closed like a prayer.

I walk through the days like a half-lit hallway,
never sure what I’m looking for,
never sure I’ll find it.

I forget what my hands were made for.
I press my palm against the frost-bitten glass,
just to prove I’m still warm-blooded.

February unspools, soft and slow,
a ribbon of time that never quite ties into a bow,
a breath held too long in a house too small.

And I—
I stand at the edge of the month like a skipped stone,
almost ready to sink, almost ready to fly,
caught in the soft ache of almost,
in the half-light of wanting.

March will come like an answer
to a question I don’t remember,
but tonight, February lingers—
a ghost-limbed thing,
a name I still chase in the dark,
leaving me unfinished,
half-written,
half-here.

#frost #waiting #grey #cold #winter #february #longing #yearning #melancholy

Archer 6d

Cycles of Breeze and Branch

Moonlight shone through the windows
and onto the floor in long,
bright
blue
rectangles.
The shadows from the leaves in the trees swayed back and forth like they were
dancing with the cold
November
night
wind.
The moon was their spotlight, my front yard was their stage
and they danced
with
no
music.
The trees savoured every moment with the wind, for they were each other’s lives,
and could not dance
without
the
other.
The trees cried when the wind was not there, and the wind came to wipe its tears,
and then
they
danced
again.

#love #grateful #soulmates #melancholy #parents #relationship #apart #dancing #moonlight #thankful

Archer 4d

Shadow in the Sand

There’s a shadow in the sand
That refuses to follow my feet
They’ll kick the grains and dust away
But also refuse to eat
My little shadow claims they’ll be fine
And refuse any hand of help
They promise not to run too far
Or at least too far to be felt
They’ve been near my side
They’ll dance and they’ll play
Even if not close
But one day I’ll wake
And my little shadow in the sand
Will have been washed up in the waves

#selfreflection #myself #twoparts #melancholy #melancholic #kid #shadows

Archer 7d

Stopping. Singing.

Little petals fell from the tree above us;
their paths were so long they were narrow and so unpredictable they had to have been predetermined.
An invisible breeze traveled through our hands, heads, and hearts.

I looked to my lover on the left of me.
The teal and yellow sky behind her,
paired with the little pink flowers just out of focus casted a speckled shadow on her face.
Her eyes conveyed sadness
but smile held strong.
Cigarette burns were pressed onto her flushed skin.
It was warm but she wore a black cardigan
with a feathery collared shirt below it.

“I stopped singing years ago,”
she chirped up.
Her words did not address me
and neither did her gaze;
both floated on the wind just the same as the petals did.
“I don’t cut it,”
lies,
“my notes crack,
I can’t sing as high as I should,
even in church I’d fear I might just stumble like a clumsy fool.”

Still,
sure as ever,
her voice carried a sweet melody that ran their fingers through my hair while they swam in the wind.
Each vowel held a hidden harmony.

“Really, there’s nothing to it-
that’s what they say.
The rhymes and rhythm were all out of place, but I stayed,”
her throat grew firm, yet full of cheer forevermore,
“Until I didn’t.”

She turned to face me but something stopped her.
Perhaps the wind,
perhaps herself.
“I suppose I must’ve stopped once you’d gone.”
Her bronze hair shook on her head and she pulled her legs up,
creating small waves in the grass
just as her voice had.
“Words didn’t mean the same, neither did any music I could share.
‘Pity,’
they’d say,
‘such a beautifully sad thing that you gave up,’ they’d say.
And I do think it true,”
admitted she whilst resting
her arms atop her knees,
chin atop her arms, and
head atop her chin.
“I did,”
she strained her words as soft as syrup,
“give up.”
Her back moved to and fro’, pressing against the bark of the apple tree
then not,
then pressed,
then not.
“What is an artist without drive?
A singer, when she can’t hear her own music?”

“Pity,”
said I,
“such a beautifully sad thing you don’t recognize yourself.”
My head shook like the branches above.
“What a smith you are, love.
You say your voice cracks,
yet each pitch it jumps onto is more delicate than the last.
You claim inability to reach the top,
but you can sing for yourself.”
My lover’s velvet covered legs pulled closer to her chest and she lifted her eyes to listen.
“I’m not necessary for your song.”

“What, pray tell, do you mean, love?”

“I reckon you never did stop singing.”

#love #melancholy #singing #story #hope #overcoming #lovers #young

dead poet 4d

the confessions of a dead poet

the noise never fades;
my poise takes the bait;
in the halls of liberation,
i submit to my fate.

i took a solemn vow:
to be ‘holier-than-thou’.
neither wrong, nor right,
i knew, until now.

i failed to see a cause;
the effect? - a terrible loss;
blinded by obsessions,
i never took a pause.

it’s been a while since the fall,
when i sprung to a brawl
with my virtues, unmasked -
and caved in to nightfall.

it all seems a blur;
it’s ‘bout time i concurred:
my reason to exist
shall always be a curse.

#confessionalpoetry #existentialcrisis #darkpoetry #lostsoul #introspection #melancholy #poetrycommunity #spilledink

Tye Jan 27

Clarity

The ultimate fantasy
Is a burst of clarity.

Having it cut through brain fog,
Like sunlight through the treetops.

Opening your mind’s window,
Whose locks were painted shut.

Becoming the vision in your head,
Instead of the object in the way.

#depression #anxiety #sadness #melancholy #hope #inspiration #change #becoming

Zywa Jan 25

[ No one can describe ]

No one can describe

my sweetheart, in any case --

no one who knows her.

Poem "Over de bossen bij Hooghalen" ("About the woods at the Foot of the Highlands", 1970, Gerrit Krol)

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 80s and 90s"

#melancholy #longing #love

karma ch Jan 24

envy, or - the yearning for bliss

once trapped in between metal and wood, the mouse forfeits its life to the higher power
for its own foolishness and yearning for livelihood led it to the clamping jaws of death
the mischief goes without mourning, for deadweight is doomed to the side of the road regardless.
the tiny mouth of a mouse can only squeak so loudly, but the sound is drowned out by the snapping of its fragile bones like a branch of a tree falling
this is an infinite purgatory
rodents aren't reborn, and will always be invaluable to all species but themselves.
everything dies, but the hungry are murdered.

i rest in the corner of a cubic room, stuck in my fate.
i wish not for the best of life, or for a new one afterword
i know my valueless existence will be replaced down the line.
the days flash by and what is left of me is rot, clinging to the bones that make me the weak and deformed being i am.
people would save me if i wasn't a bottom feeder.
a perfect puppy, full of life and joy.
maybe just a bird, wing snagged by a predator whilst trying to ****** food.
i'm not ugly, am i?
am i not worth companionship?
i'm not even worth the food i find for my family.
the world was mine once.
to be free to wander again, without having to worry about being fooled or trapped.
i should be too young to die, but i'm too clever to live.

sun bleached flies - ethel cain

#poem #freeverse #melancholy #depression #animals #death #oppression

Jiāwén Liú Jan 23

Hues of Blue (2025)

I am lost in the dark
The cold absence of light
Drifting through the space of my mind
Deaf, Dumb, and Blind

My heart lies dormant
The rhythm silent
The spark gone
Cracked, Cold, and Shattered

The stone in my chest
The weight of this soul particle
With the density of a collapsing star
Crushing, Smothering, and Dying

Silence in the dark,
Deafening,
I scream to be heard,
Unseen, Unknown, and Unwanted.

No sunrise, only darkness
The light once so bright in my life,
Extinguished.
Colors are only a memory, as the grey fades to black.

The memories start to erode,
Colors of despair,
Blue, Indigo, Midnight, Space
At my end, I see only the Hues of Blue

Days of melancholy, of morose, of loneliness at times. Those days are fewer and farther between, but they will always persist, as it is human nature as emotional beings.

#peotrycommunity #blue #melancholy #morose #loneliness