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Shawn Awagu Dec 2019
Normally this isn’t the way it goes, but this time I’ll do differently
And so I ask who are you? What is your name?
Do you like running? I do as long as I can breathe

I dream of a day where I can run freely in silent poplar forests without my lungs weighing me down

What is your favorite kind of music? Do you like pop, rock, or hip-hop?
Is your soul kneaded and worked by tender hands like Jazz? Swing?

I may not look the part, but I love classical music; there’s something about listening to Chopin’s Nocturnes that makes me feel as if I am right there with him, sitting in the pews of an abandoned church whose dead parishioners long ago grew bored of contemplating their sins. I feel as if I am gently sipping his breath like one would coffee that’s still a bit too hot, savoring the stories he weaves out of thin piano strings that taste like moonlight
It is a flavor that seldom is tiresome
I wish I could cook some for you

If you could go anywhere, anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Would you roll into an airport with your luggage in New York? Tokyo?
Would you brave the crushing heat of Cairo for a glimpse of Giza?

I would go anywhere, anywhere you’d like, as long as we come home
I’ll open the door and immediately turn on the space heater—I can sense you hate being cold
While the tea is warming on the stove, we’ll talk about your favorite artist’s best album
Listening until we’re interrupted by the shrill shriek of a teapot needing attention
And that night I will dream that my footsteps will never be lonely

I’m terribly sorry, who are you and what is your name?
I do not know; you are there and I am in here; my mouth is so dry it hurts

Neither coffee nor alcohol can spur me to action
There is nothing I can drink
I can imagine, but I will never ask
I already have, so many times
A letter from the past
why
these writings,
these ramblings,
these, incoherent thoughts,

are many things to me.
i write for several reasons,
and I post my work for several more.

this, is my therapy...
this allows me to go back in time and, re-live moments, to re-think thoughts, and most importantly, re-evaluate my internal response and outlook of the situation, feeling, or occurrence.

my writing focuses upon my internalisms, my thoughts.
very few of my pieces are outwardly inspired. Very rarely is my writing based within my physical perception of what is happening around me.

I post and share, for several more reasons; some purer than others.
I share because I don't want others to suffer as I do at times, and perhaps, something in my writing will inspire a change in thought or feeling, or at the very least, allow someone to relate, and realize they're not alone.

I share so that someone, someday will recognize the true weight and reflection of my writing and be able to identify how, and why I am how I am, and help me better understand myself and the world around me, and minimize, or even eliminate this endless battle, and help me find the only thing in life that I truly yearn for:
peace.

i share also because i feel that my experiences and thoughts are common property. my creations, once made, are no longer mine to keep to myself. these words, these thoughts, these feelings are yours to do with what you please. love them, hate them, learn from them, or ignore them completely. Just as speech is common domain, so is my inner speech.

lastly, i share Because of my struggle... this is my selfish motive. I am addicted to the validation of seeing you all read my inner thoughts and react to it. It tells me I am not dreaming. It shows me that what I feel is, in fact, real and that I am not just a figment of my own imagination.

Why am I writing this?
to show you i am not merely a writer behind a mask, or truly a writer at all.
I am just a human, a person sharing my existence in the form of written words.

Thank you,
And may you all find a true, everlasting peace, and love within yourselves, and each other.
West Aug 2019
But.
What if I didn't want you to let me go.
Sitting with my head to the window,
back to the door.
I dunno if I can run anymore.
From you.
But.
You let me go.
I'm still holding on. To you.
But.
I love you.
Still do. Always have.
I love you.
I want you to be happy,
with or without me.
But.
I keep turning around.
To you and the closed door of us.
It's been so long. You are past 'us'.
I am not.
But.
I want you to be happy.
With or without me.
But.
I want to call you mine,
so we can dream together.
But.
I love you.
And I want you to be happy.
I won't run anymore.
                                                      "If you want something, fight for it."
I am.
I'm trying.
                                                                            "It's too late."
It might be.
But.
You left a hole in my mind,
knowing that was what I treasured the most-
not the heart, or soul, or even the body.
It's a black hole,
******* all that I am and all that I know,
into the abyss that you used to inhabit.
But.
I love you.
It's a mantra.
I love you.
But.
I don't know
if you love me.
I don't even know
you
anymore.
But.
I'm willing to try.
If you'd let me.
(Monologue), Long-ish.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
"I never knew it was toxic, until I tasted freedom with love. I never knew what it was like to be loved, without being encaged. But now I can take my decisions, I can roam free. I can be loved and be my own person. I chose what I do today and forever.
It was love before, it is love now. But now he loves me into independence. I discover more about myself. I find myself healing.The stifling breath, and aching sobs in my chest are slowly fading.  It was love before but the bad outweighed the good. Too weak and in love to leave. But I am not a possession, I am my own person."

- excerpt from a monologue of breaking free from a possessive relationship
Rory Mels Tims Jul 2019
This is my mono-monologue.

I stand alone befoe the world,
My lonely clean white flag unfurled,
Wondering when the winter sky
Will melt my wings and let my fly.

Perched upon a mountaintop
With not a soul in sight
"When will my isolation stop?"
I cry with all my might.

This is my mono-monologue.

The wind whispers
What I hoped I'd never know:
"You are so far away from them
Because you are below.

"But maybe you are
The one who lives above.
Maybe that is why
You never could be loved."

This is my mono-monologue.

I've lived a shunned life
(It can be hard to see)
Although I haven't felt much strife,
My freedom's far from free.

I do not truly know
What you mean by 'best friend'.
I'm fated to live alone
Until the very end.

This is my mono-monologue.
Mono-monologue: A monologue on loneliness.
Emmanuella Jun 2019
"And you,
my dear lady,
are the poem.
I just give it voice."
And I could recite it evermore.
Lucía Apr 2019
chill out
sometimes
it's OK
not to be
the best
.
Emmanuella Apr 2019
"Oh! 'Tis great grief,
Wrought by fate's mischief;
To pledge my love by some vow,
Even when Cupid hasn't strung his arrow into his bow."
An Elizabethan tragedy in four soliloquical lines.
And a sprinkle of an eye rhyme.
Winnie Apr 2019
I gave my heart to you
I said

We're just friends
He said

You controlled my mind
I sighed

You're too emotional
He replied

Why you
I asked myself

Sorry
He said

Silence
I answered
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