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Faith Cubitt Mar 12
Love is.... crying myself to sleep because all I can think about is you, but your probably thinking about her, because it's not me you want.... but what am I supposed to do? because that's what love is.
Love is.... begging the universe to let us be something more than we are, begging it to let us cross paths again because now we are older, less messy.
begging for it to give us that forever we so dearly deserved.
Love is.... standing in the pouring rain because you can't be happy without them, if their here dying your going to die right with them.
Love is.... walking around in a day dream when things are good but a nightmare when everything starts falling apart.
Love is.... staring up at the ceiling, numb at 3 am because they're confusing, telling you they love you, but their actions telling a whole different story. you can slowly feel them disconnecting.
you tried, you really did but your the only one who's constantly fighting for it to work.
Love is.... making up excuses for them because they really mean that much to you, they were just busy.... to tired to check their phone, we're working, maybe sick.
Love is.... killing parts of yourself so they can feel more alive. trying to fill voids left from long ago.
Love is.... letting your heart take over, having no control over who it picks. because in truthful honestly it wasn't supposed to be him.
Love is.... messy and sweet, it's screaming in your pillow in the middle of the night, it's honest and scary, full of hope. it's hot and cold, bitter and beautiful.
Love is.... a paradox full of twists and turns, lies and truths. it's opening yourself up to a stranger but feeling like you've known them your whole life.
Love is.... like coasting that line between life and death, never knowing the ending. if it's going to be the greatest or most tragic thing that's ever happened to you.
Love is.... letting someone hold a gun to your heart.... praying to god they don't shoot....
please don't shoot, love me like I love you. so hopelessly much....
Marc Morais Feb 23
It doesn’t stay neat—
nothing does.
Not the room.
Not the mind.
Not the feelings
I have for you.

I spill everything out—
ink, blood, tears—
whatever I hold
too tight.

Even the rain
trips over itself,
but you call it
beautiful—
you always do.
kel Dec 2024
it
a stone cold heart, in a midst of
confusion, terror, and silence.
and blood it can cough
yet it remains a sight of nonchalance
everything's unkempt and rough
out of order and balance
far away, a cry and a laugh
a battle of chaos at a glance
a hide that is tough
yet the insides tense
nobody can plough
through the violence
to save it.
this poem is a bit messy ;-; atp I dunno what I was writing abt
kel Sep 2024
whatever i do
will always waste my life away
at least that's what you say.
i guess you managed to sway
me onto your side.
because i'm not doing anything i want
to do at this point.
you've made me use another font
to write my life
instead of the messy handwriting
that i'm supposed to use
Lyla Aug 2024
How am I supposed to tell you
That my passion
Is so deep and fierce
A wild creature caught
Pacing against its confines
Desiring only freedom
To live as its nature requires

I want you no matter how messy it gets
And at the core of me
I don’t apologize
I can’t be sorry for this
And now the creature is out of its cage...
Jeremy Betts Aug 2024
You're heartless and cold
Leaving my heart a mess
You pieced out your soul
Mine fell prey to your emptiness
Was it your plan to let go?
I wonder as I struggle with the process
I believed in what I was sold
You bragged like this was a side quest
I didn't notice I was enrolled
In your narcissistic contest
You were waiting for me to fold
Ready for another conquest
You reveled in my fall
You mocked my best
I gave you my all
You left me the rest

©2024
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
In my beginning some thing created this purposeless mess that stands before you
Knowing my best would never be enough and still pushed me through like some kind of fuuck you
To who?
To the future me, to the tragedy I'd become ultimately?
That's a ridiculously high baggage fee
Especially for baggage bestowed upon me
If there's nothing he can't do then none of this is how it had to be
But nooooo,
He had to go and put in that god ****** fruit tree

©2024
Malia Feb 2024
i have words inside of me
and i can’t say
any of them.
i don’t even know
what they are.
what happened to my voice?
it feels like it’s been a while
since i had something to say.
living underwater, living like a corpse.
i wake up and then go back to sleep
because “awake” is not “autopilot”.

why am i so tired?
I have been feeling…slow, lately. glitchy. staticky. stagnant.
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