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mary liles May 12
i look at you
you look at me
i have never felt more alive
Cora Mar 25
she wakes me up
in the morning
with a sharp tug
there are fire alarms
the monsters under the bed are
she touches my face and it is
digs in her nails and i am
to her as she devours me
the fear much closer every
it gets inside me i can't
the world around me seems to
i'm centimeters from the
the cliff is steep the water deep i'll
she looks at me again gives me a
it's just a morning
just an empty room
just me in bed alone
ripping myself open
for monday
دema Mar 17
Tell me how
I only break
to be strong and still,
how I only
take from me
to give to others,
how I get disapprovals
on my own pain,
how I wake up as
early as 6 am,
yet can't get up
until the regrets of
time gone to waste
hit at 2 pm,
Tell me how
to stop.
zen Mar 7
A heaping sun
heavyweight clouds
linger over wind
chasing fowls
in a feverish
it all seems
like shadows
Good morning poetry...
Broadsky Mar 3
I'm looking at the drum you bought me, this beautiful Djembe drum. You bought it for me because you saw how I lost myself in the rhythm that night at the field party. I remember the warmth and glow of the fire, music blaring from someone car, the hum of people laughing and talking. I remember the pill you took and the man you got it from, I remember after you peaked you called to one of your friends "have you met my girl? This is my girl" and how I never wanted to be anyone else's again. I remember our tent in the corner, and making love all night, I remember getting up at 6am and walking in the dewy grass letting the sun's rays warm my completely bare skin. I remember riding home with you and your clenched jaw from coming down, I remember everything; and I refuse to forget.
I still remember how you felt in my hands.
Gizette Feb 22
Laying on the bathroom floor.
I feel everything.
I feel nothing.
I need to cry.
I cant cry.
What are you doing to me?
Why are you trying to ruin me?
My eyes are shut, I cant see.
But I am glad I am blind.
Nothing to feel bad about.
Nothing to admire, no doubts.
Why do I write?
Why I am not to sure myself.
Its a high I get without a smoke.
This bathroom floor feels so cold.
So nice, so alone.
But what do you do in your alone time?
Leave it in the comments.
Not too sure what I just wrote, but I am glad I did.
The first sound of sun
The first sight of birds chirpin
The first smell of wind touchin your lungs
The feel of fresh air touchin your skin
Freeing when you wake up early
More time to think, to get things done
Easier to stay afloat and not sink, more fun
Nature in its most vibrant form
Blessings from early morning sun
Bohemian Feb 17
Much than the stars infatuate at nights
Does her dark skin through the lattice of her top
We bereave the nights
Instead we sneak peak under the sun
There ,she achieves utmost pitch in giggles
I trail ,fall and then fail
Esther Feb 16
you're my Friday night
and i'm your Saturday morning
you seem more ideal than me
but i offer you the comfort that you need
you give me life
i give you peace.
Johnny walker Feb 12
I watched the birds fly away for the winter and soon I will watching them returning back home hopefully bringing summer with them

I miss there singing In the mornings always brightens
one's day and they will again build there nests In
guttering around my roof
there they'll raise there young

And when they're old enough I shall watch them taking there first flights supervised by their
mothers the same every year never changes from as far back to when I was just a kid  

For now I wait the return of the birds and the sun hopefully they'll bring with them and to once again to hear them singing upon dawns early
Thought drifting towards summer and birds singing
again the mornings
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