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Sadie Dec 2024
I am wrapped in my memories of you like a safety blanket,
The smoke seeping from your mouth is entangled in my hair,
Lingering in the clothes I stole from you,
Some kind of comfortable asphyxia.
The memories of us sitting on your couch,
Drowning in tears and whiskey,
Sobbing into your chest.
Soft music pours from your phone and your lips,
Old love songs I thought everyone else had forgotten,
The tv is on but I don’t know what’s playing.
The rain hits the grass in your backyard,
The wind rustles the curtain over the backdoor.
There’s a sadness there I can’t quite place.
It sits between us.
I don’t feel the pain I know is there,
Physical or emotional,
Despite the blood or the tears.
All I can focus on is your arms around me,
As we sit on the couch,
As I sob into your chest.
I feel your thumb brush against my arm,
The even rise and fall of your breathing.
It melts the pain while at the same time freeing it.
I like to remember us like that,
So small and so broken,
No hope at all,
But the love is overwhelming.
Through the whiskey and the tears,
Choking on the smoke,
Shivering with the wind.
All there is are your arms,
And your voice,
And your love.
In those memories it's enough,
To keep the sadness at bay,
Keep the pain away,
To fall asleep.
Sometimes I'll be listening to music,
And the music will pause.
So I have to go back to what's playing the music,
To ensure it that it's playing the right song.
Everyone needs a little reassurance sometimes.
If I knew how,
I'd write music to go along with the words in my poems,
And I turn my poems into songs.
Some poems don't need tittles, the words in them are good enough on their own. So I'm suggesting an idea to the poets in this community, a new kind of verse. No names, only emotion.
Madison Tomes Dec 2024
Music
It gets me through,
Hearing others express how i feel
Grief
Confusion
Relationships
Friendships
All those…
more.

Expressions being expressed
Doesn't work
I speak in crushed riddles
With cracks
And quick unprepared responses
That were shoved out because i haven't spoke in hours
excited for company
came off awkward
            Just liked the feeling of a conversation
Life is like that
And music lets me communicate and exist
It's what i lean on
this I wrote in middle school. I was so lonely so when I found out music helped I wanted to communicate that, thanks spotify (online music player) for being there.
Nameisis Dec 2024
the singer's gone,
he's killed himself
did you hear?
was it ambition?
or was it the great ol' gloom
that did him in?
the songs appear again
they travel in the wind
and i can hear the birds still singing
that mellow tune
wind plays the harp
my heart beat drums
it comes together in the end
the singer lives

                                                                                             the singer lives
i remember the scratching sound of the record player
i remember the sharp blade of the scissors as the dim light reflected
i remember the noise of the cars 4 stories below
i remember the pills i thought of dying from so many times
i remember getting so acquainted with death that i tried to join him
i remember the red lines on my wrist
i remember feeling the sharp sting
i remember the music giving me life
i remember the music making me feel things that i don't feel
i remember the lights
i remember fading away
i remember my phone wallpaper
i remember the music taking me away
i remember blades of grass, so sharp in the morning sun
i remember sitting in my window nook as it rains
i remember the noise
i remember shutting down
i remember foggy mornings
i remember not talking
i remember not moving
i remember not being able to breathe
i remember the streetlights
i remember not feeling like myself
i remember looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger
i remember the sound of a fountain pen on parchment paper
i remember the taste of lemonade in the summer
i remember cloth scraping against flesh
i remember ribs poking through translucent skin
i remember dizziness
i remember the hunger
i remember the sun
i remember the rain
i remember drawing with posca markers on my arm
i remember dancing in puddles
i remember slightly too long sleeves
i remember my first concert
i remember playing piano
i remember feeling the sun on my face
i remember the feeling of the car as it speeds up
i remember watching ride the cyclone in my best friend's basement
i remember the cuts
i remember the red marks
i remember the hunger
i remember the hunger
i remember the hunger
a poem based on a kind i learned at a camp. write down i remember, and then the next thing that comes to mind to complete the sentence. i had to leave the room to cry in the bathroom for an hour. this will never be finished, ill just come back every so often and add to it
bucketb0t Dec 2024
Music's universal language,
Buckethead best translator,
there is, a silent orator.

mind scrammbles
quantity narrator
heart decodes
quality mentor

breaks logic
all's lone mind
sounds valid
one's line mine
Buckethead's music effect, a lot of multiple meanings with the only hint  I will give is that the rollercoaster line functions on one loop track.
bucketb0t Dec 2024
EARGASM > ******
***'s every overstated play: overrated...
Buckethead's every understated play: underrated!

Buckethead's insatiable music is never on period.
Happy that I exist in his period
Grateful that he exists, period!
Some bucketbot mania in regards to Buckethead's music
Nigdaw Dec 2024
music is playing in the other room
music playing
in another room
music
in another room playing
a tune
disturbing my mood
from another room
invading my space
from somewhere else
another room
music
SHUT UP!!
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