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I'm so sorry,
I know times are crazy,
I miss you lately,
Because you were like safety,
From the storms that rage vainly,
And we were perfect daily,
I'm sorry I left you -.
An old old poem I wrote about this girl I met over the summer.
Oliver Feb 1
My past is a story someone else wrote,
And I only have the torn pages—
Fragments without context,
A book with no beginning.

I chase memories like butterflies,
But they slip through my fingers,
Not fluttering away—no,
They were never there at all.

I know I love cartoons.
I know my mother made me a quilt,
Small, soft, still mine—
But now it sits folded away,
Replaced by a newer one,
Just as warm, just as loved.

She remembers when I was small.
She remembers the things I’ve lost.
And maybe that’s enough—
To have proof that I was,
Even when I can’t recall.

But where are the missing pieces?
The laughter in the backyard,
The whispered secrets,
The warmth of a childhood
That should be mine?

I sit with the silence,
Trying to stitch together
A story I was meant to remember.
But all I have are torn pages—
And I don’t know how the story goes.
I still have the quilt my mom made when I was young, a corner is bitten and torn cause I used to have a chewing problem. I have two more quilts each bigger than the last. I love them all with all my heart.

This is the first poem I wrote about myself, I hate writing about myself. I can never remember. I used to cry not being able to write stories in class like everyone else. mine were false made up not real like the others. they were meant to be real about our lives but I couldn't remember mine.

I can remember more than before but that part of my life is lost its gone and I don't know why. I wish there was an answer. I wish I had the solution to get them back. a while ago I remembered one memory from when I was little. I had ignored my mom's warnings not the play on the seemingly endless amount of chairs there were. I played had fun and fell there was a nail sticking out the side of one and it caught the skin of my leg. I don't remember what happened next or how I reacted or how I felt about it. I could have cried I could have smiled I could have pretended it didn't hurt as much as it did, but I don't know I don't remember. I wish i did even if it wasn't the best memory it was still mine and I can only remember part of it. I wish I could remember more than the few memories I have from when I was younger. I have less than what can be counted on one hand. they are my memories they are mine if only they thought so too.
Life jacket, soda pop,
Beach time and pool.
I miss the summer like a fool,
Winter's chill must stop.
For if this gray season fails to cease,
To the ground my heart will drop.
I long for the wings,
Of the grand geese.
So come, summer things,
So I may do away with this fleece.
An ode to the happy days of summer, nothing to do, everything to experience.
Lucia- Jan 19
How can I miss what I never held,
A voice unheard, a face unspelled?
Yet here I am, adrift, alone,
Yearning for someone i've never physically known.

No touch, no words, no fleeting glance,
No thread of fate, no twist of chance.
And yet you live within my chest,
A stranger known, a soul confessed.

I’ve traced your outline in my head,
In shadows vast, in stars up ahead.
Each spark a thread that pulls me near
To something missed, yet never here.

Oh, saudade, bittersweet refrain,
You carve my heart, yet ease the pain.
For even in your shapeless void,
A hope persists, a dream employed.

So, to the you I might never see,
A part of me still sets you free.
To live, to love, to softly be,
The missing half of all I need.
saudade is pronounced ("sawˈdadʒi") (=saoudadjee for english speakers)
it is a portuguese word that doesn't have a translation.. it's like a strong nostalgic feeling to something.. kind of hard to understand.
In that case, it's about missing/craving someone's physical touch without ever have met them.
Michael Leo Jan 17
One day, you'll calm down,
Look back on your story as if through a stranger's eyes.
A quiet smile will escape, a gentle shake of the head—
Life, after all, is but a fleeting dream.

Someday, you'll release today’s struggles,
With only a whisper of regret in the air.
Clarity will dawn, illusions will fade,
And the weight of the world will dissolve in stillness.

In that moment, you'll find the truth—
Not in gaining, nor in losing,
But in the quiet harmony of a peaceful heart.
For 576
Jay Lewis Jan 10
We lived in different cities,
we were two worlds apart.
Each night I knew,
we felt less lonelier,
when we looked up,
at the moon and the stars.

Now we live in the same house.
Trying to make it a home.
Yet I get the feeling,
That we’re not on our own.

And it’s not the stars,
that are watching us now.
There are these shadows,
they seem to linger around.

I have the strangest gut instinct that your being distant.
And as the phrase “Distance makes the heart grow fonder” would have been enough to hold back any of my worries or woes.
Yet my mind has began wonder,
And I think to myself:
What happens when that feeling goes?
Michael Leo Jan 10
One year,
One month,
One week,
One day,
One hour,
One minute,
One second,
In my every breath...
I beg for time to be timeless.
Only if you're by my side...
For 576
Michael Leo Dec 2024
This year is destined to be unlike any other,
Full of gains, yet marked by quiet losses.

There are moments brimming with anticipation,
And fears of letting something precious slip away.
There are silent guardians watching over,
And blessings whispered softly into the wind.

I find myself waiting for something unknown,
Unsure of what it might be.
Yet, I wish to wait a little longer...
Just a little longer...
Perhaps, something extraordinary might truly arrive.

As I look back on the path we've traveled,
I hope only to leave behind hope,
Without asking for anything in return.
Let us continue this journey together,
Bound by a wordless understanding.
Everything is felt,
And nothing needs to be spoken.
Let us keep walking this way...
Always...
For 576
DJQuill Dec 2024
I keep my phone close to me to see if you wrote me
I put my phone away to keep myself from waiting
But my head keeps thinking about your next text
My last text hasn't been read yet.
So I keep waiting and thinking about her and how it used to be.
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