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The glass broke
Like my voice when I spoke
When my head insisted
But my heart persisted
But life goes on
Ill be "ok" by dawn
Laokos Mar 2021
when I stop
and
just let the
silence
be. . .

everything
is ok:

the tattered
tarp partially
buried in
the
hillside is
ok

the broken
bough used
as a toy
by the
poor
children is
ok

the
jaggedly
chopped
tree stump
by the
parked
car is
ok

the
unevenly
placed
stairs
that force
you to
change
your gait
are
ok

the
distant
tower
with the
blinking
light
is
ok

the
solitude
among
other
mortals
is
ok

the
whelming
sense of
being
lost is
ok

the
neat
glass of
scotch
from the
isle of
skye is
ok

the
divorced
lesbian
with two
kids at
the end
of her
rope
is
ok

the
minuscule
fly that
landed
on my
forehead
in the
bathroom
this
morning
is
ok

everything
is
ok

even the
things
that
aren't

they're
ok too
AuEcologica Dec 2020
I’m a pebble throw of a catastrophe away from being ok,
whatever those words could mean in these days.  
I-I’ll be ok as the world crumbles into a billion of pieces,
as oceans transform into gaping devouring abysses,
when what is left of humanity is but a whisper in time,
then,
then I’ll be ok.  
What else could you ask of me,
Or, do you perhaps mean what is left of this shell?
You are asking of me when the dead will wake,
when the gods will step up from their slumber in shattering caves?
I-I’ll be fine, don’t you worry love; when I cannot tell but my guess is not the truth you wanted anyway.
Bagoflemon Nov 2020
I was so tired and frayed.
    I wondered what moon you saw from that distant planet.
    Outer space caused a great famine
    Did you allow your lungs to love
    An ounce of it if any, love.

Define our love in a sentimental mood.
A gravitational pull that holds my hand.
    Exceptions where we let go to kiss the sun. We fall down around 12 to 1.
    Coming back, warm in our commotion of fantasies. We spoke our mind telepathically.

  You were so tired and frayed.
    You wondered what moon I saw from that distant planet.
    Outer space caused a great famine
    Did I allow my lungs to love
    An ounce of it if any, love?

Remember high tides in October?  dressed up lovers, bittersweet contour? two mirrors colliding.  
    We became a downward spiral till we couldn’t call ‘us’ anymore.
    No matter how much I see it, it’s just you and me but not the way it used to be.

We were so tired and frayed.
    We wondered what moon we saw from that distant planet of ours.
    Outer space caused a great famine in thought..
    ..The in-between which we could not meet made it hard.
    We loved with every crevice of our body but with the last drop there was nothing to breathe from.
An ounce of it if any.
This was based on past experience. It was through codependency and the miserable lack of communication , I could get a better understanding of what bittersweet viper bites feel like when it comes to love someone and let them go. For both of your betterment.
(we are adjusting and growing and learning together)
Wilder Sep 2020
Please, tell me to love you again
For I will
I will love you with every breath
Like I'm a dying star and
You are the brightest light

Please tell me you love me again
And mean it
Love me with every one of
Your broken pieces and
I will love with every one of mine

Please don't walk away
Without saying goodbye
My heart is fragile
And it wants to love you
Yet I don't want to let it

So please give me a reason
Tell me it's ok to love you
im feeling really emotional and I don't like it. And there's too many words inside of me so I don't know where to start writing. This is a start though.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2020
~for teach~

tell me, are you ok?

yeah, more or less;
like everybody else,
wires get crossed,
static builds up,
the speakers bleat
when they should blat,
and you try to stop thinking,
cause why hurt yourself
too much?

what’s wrong?

nothing to specific,
that seems to be the problem,
like aches and sharp pains
that come without reason,
on a schedule all their own,
no prior consultation,
permission slip sig forged,
so badly, it’s insulting

it’s 3:14 am, woke up with
headphones on, every tune,
reandomly selected, saying,
only the lonely, solitary man,
miles to go, it’s probably me,
long monday coming,
gonna spend it
looking for the summer

now look at this, me done wrote
another impoverished poem,
just by stringing together
song titles that were selected
just for me by an artificial intelligence,
it’s closing time, in the fields of gold,
prine singing a blues lullaby, just for me,
so I won’t have to think so hard for an answer to

tell me, are you ok?

me?
got no complaints that
ain’t my own fault,
my guilt is plugged in
always charging,
sleep comes in dreams of many colors,
eclectic eclipses, electrifying and elicited,
words come spilling so easy, pre-selected,
elocuted and executed, with madding ease.
two more lines, then calling it quits, but at least
got an answer, why for me it’s so easy,
the being hard

<>

3:32am and the moonlight so bright,
it’s making shadows on earth, left behind
like good graffiti announcing I was here,
maybe I’ll find these words, when I wake up,
wonder who wright these, twasn’t me,
I’m a sound sleeper, can never remember,
dreams, or nightmares, even those in technicolor,
wake up a blank slate, to see,
gotta answer somebody’s question,
if I’m ok?
Wilder Aug 2020
Reached a point
Now it's just the waiting
Stay in line
Stay behind
Just the waiting
Sure ok
Swear in my face
It's not my place
It's a point
Soon it'll be revealed
And everyone will see
Who's really me
But for now
Just the waiting.
(I don't want to call it hiding)
There's a point
You're getting there
(I'm already past it)
But I'm ok with
Just waiting
Um the last 2 lines say i'm ok with waiting but I'm getting really sick of it.
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