Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I reach out
                               to you -to your essence
grappling to any shred               of your memory.
                             Your smile.
         The light in              your eyes.
The tinkling of bells in
                                                                                    your laugh.
The soft rose that                     warmed all of
the        freckles on your cheeks
           when you                         blushed.
Every feature.
                                                  Faded.
Like an old picture.

Reaching and clawing through
every scene,                       every second.
                                        Every memory of you.
Time stands still              and the world is silent.
The stars hang, frozen        in their dark sky.
                                                       The universe is, and suddenly

it isn't.
My mind
                                      blinks.
My heart beats on           like a drum and
the wind                           rushes from my lungs at
                             lightspeed as
a sickening
possibility comes to mind.

                                                                                      You are nothing more than s t a r d u s t .
This poem was written in 2016.
dailythoughts Feb 2021
to feel too much
is tiring

to feel nothing
is tiring
mark soltero Feb 2021
my propensity  
to manifest demons into people
consistently projecting
the tragedies of my own imagination
into other people
my desire to eject
leaves me like the cockroaches
hungry and filthy
but i didn’t make me
right?
theres nothing in me that wants it
why can’t i starve
the deep hate
eat the world’s abundance
decadent and I, undeserving
i’m tired of not feeling something
only feeling nothing
drive my skin against the walls
that i built up
just to long for them to fall
but it’s not me
no accountability
ready
it’s you and me
i need purity
to know you want me
not just me in you
you make me feel nothing close of void
sleep with me
just me
i promise i don’t see
mark soltero Feb 2021
ages it’s felt like you’re mine
you let me come inside
naked and true
there are no lies
i’ve adopted all the ways to hate myself
selfish demise
it’s gone when i look in your eyes
nothing feels lonely
get close with me
release bursting between
Denver Feb 2021
"You're crying again..."
"Am i?? ... sorry..."
"Stop saying sorry..."
"But i am..."
"Well don't be.. you don't need to be..... here, take this.."
"What is it?..."
"Vallium... "
"What? like .. like the Pidgeon film??"
"No you idiot that's Valliant.. this is Vallium... like the drug that stops you from shaking"
"I'm not shakein.. looks at my hands oh look.. i am, look at my hands ... ****"
"i know sighs you're whole body is shaking, i might put you in the bath with the washing, half an hour and you'd have even the whites clean"
"shut up that's not... spills drink while taking a sip true.."
"really?? take your drugs you ******.."
"you're a terrible doctor"
"good thing i'm not a doctor then.."
smiles
...
...
"Here have a tissue..."
"What for??"
"You're crying again..."
they say it's all in the mind..
well i should ****** well think so...
can you imagine if my belly button was in charge of thinking???
lawks a mercy where would we be...?
Clay Face Jan 2021
I’m the thing in the middle of the street at night.
I’m an alcohol prone cigarette drone.
Roll me up some suicide, I puff it with pride.
I’m what’s feared at night.
I even give myself a fright.
The world takes pictures of me.
A spectacle.
I’m the perfection of failure.
I’m the shadows.
The dismal abyss the world needs.
I’m colder than a robot.
Quieter than a rat.
I’m what you can but can’t see.
I’m cheaper than air and just as useful.
Use me up, ******* away.
I seek love and connection.
A warm place to be.
My disposition cuts connection clean.
I’m the H spoon.
Never washed, always abused.
I’m spread like a disease.
Unwanted, and to be killed.
Eradicate me please.
I’m a ***** injected, loose connected, nicotine aspirated, four cylinder waste machine.
No one cranks me with the hand of desire.
Just in lust of deceit and fire.
I’m thrown away when you’re done with me.
I’m the byproduct of society.
The degradation of sobriety.
I’m the Night Rider.
Manx Pragna Jan 2021
it's definitely my fault
the doubt of that is none

next time, i'll obviously act on them differently
next time though, i'll feel different

you have layers unending
so for you to not feel this as i do
is understandable
but for you to not try and understand
is regrettable
because i'm trying
admittedly, harder than anything else
guess that's why i'm struggling
Maria Hernandez Feb 2021
I used to think about you
almost every day,
there wasn't one thing that
didn't remind me of you,
but now there's nothing that
longs to the though of us,
of your name.

It's not that I've forgotten you, but I no longer
hang by you, or your memories with me;
maybe because I've found someone
to replace you;
to forget there
was ever a thought
of you.
Psych-o-rangE Dec 2020
Wanting to be heard, with nothing to say
Old recitations to dialogue in a play
We speak, in echoes, like poetry, it rhymes
And the father of learning is repetition

What only concerns is the comfort in your reflection

Death is a comfort that doesn't exist
When you're dead, nothing really is
Nothing really is, and nothing will be
Consistency
Next page