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LC Oct 9
the breeze tickles her hair 
and takes her worries with it. 
the sun wants a break
just for a little while.
she misses the sun,
but knows it needs a minute.
she'll be here when it's ready.
I have never wanted forever with anyone before,
I’ve wanted a life time,
I’ve wanted another day,
I’ve wanted another minute,
But never will I want an eternity with someone who doesn’t want an eternity with me.
maria Sep 9
I have to go again.
Are you afraid?

I'm leaving the country,
the sympathy
and the fake dreams.
Do you care?

I pack everything
but I'm sure something's missing.
What are you running from?

I check myself in the mirror.
It's the last minute before I go.

Nothing changes.
I'm so afraid
oh, I don't care.

I'm running from my questions
but I guess I'm missing my soul.
Quote of the poem:
《I'm running from my questions but I guess I'm missing my soul》

Written on September 9, 2019
KJ Reed Aug 29
"One more minute," you say
as I glance at the clock,
ready to run off to the places
I wish to, but can't avoid.
"One more minute," you say
as you grab my face,
smush my cheeks,
leave behind watermelon kisses.
"One more minute," you say
and every time I give in.
One more minute given,
just one more minute late for you.
Lilly F Jun 26
another day another wallowing moment
in this unfamiliar skin
searching for the component
that feels missing deep within

another hour another feeling
how they change so quickly
my back tied to the ceiling
lack of control making my stomach feel sickly

another minute another headache
come and go in a blink
I pray that they stop for my sake
too tired to even think

another second another toll
on my head filled with words
needing something plentiful for the soul
ears longing for the sweet tunes of songbirds

the pain beneath my eyes
showing the purple and blue taint
my mind up till sunrise
wearing my exhaustion like a canvas wears paint


© L.F.
solc liveson Sep 21
the inevitable can no longer be delayed or ignored

it is 8:58am,

the wafer needs consuming
so the bodies of the
sons of god can rise

it is 8:59am

the credit card payment due,
needing doing,
this, my juggling act
commences ends
@ the righteous hour

now,
for the numbers flip forward
the 9:00am mark officializing
a living
commencement

and the first poem of the day
prayer
is spoken, prayed, stated
commenced and ended
John Glenn May 27
the clock
tick tocks
in golden variables
every hour malleable
every minute ductile
every second savored
while we are juvenile
feel every moment
kiran goswami Apr 18
In the evening, yesterday,
We again battled with words,
And, you, threw spears of alphabets
which embraced each other
as if they were meeting for the last time.
And I promised my reflection
I would not be guilty this time.

Minute 1:  I threw all the glasses of your trust
                 and cut down all the threads of your love.

Minute 2:     I looked around to search for me,
          but all I could see was you.
                      I knew I was delusional so I went
          to wash my face.

Minute 3:    I stepped on those glasses and my
                    eyes were filled with currant and
       crimson.

Minute 4:     I reached the basin and washed
    my
                    face while my feet were painting
       themselves.
                   And all that dripped down from my face was my commitment.

Minute 5:      I slapped myself using sheets of water
    But I was not as injured.
    I believe,
              I needed more, so I continued.

Minute 6:   I closed the tap and the remaining water fell,
Drop by drop.
I heard myself fall too,
Piece by piece.

Minute 7:                   I started the water again,
                                 My basin overflowed with  
                     you,
                              Oh no, it was water I knew.

Minute 8:               I heard the water, fall again
All at once.
                               I could hear myself fall too,
All at once.

Minute 9:                      no more water was left
                To be shed.
                             No more I was left
               To be dead.

Minute 10:                 my feet had become sore,
                                 And blood now drained away.
                      I knew what I did,
                              I didn't know what
        happened.

Minute 11:     I looked at myself in the mirror,
                    Like always, it again happened.
         My reflection faded away.
lovely Mar 24
1 year
4 seasons
12 months
52 weeks
365 days
8,760 hours
525,600 minutes
31,536,000 seconds
and i want to spend it all with you
i don’t really know where these are going they’re just going somewhere :)
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