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Jewel Vanilli Sep 11
And then he didn't come back

The summers passed, autumns faded, winters roared, and springs bloomed but he's nowhere to be seen.

As she made her way to the shore, she felt the gentle breeze and the embrace of the waves and as she looked up; she saw the moon alone in the vast nothingness of the sky with no star to keep her company.

She remembered him, thinking that maybe the stars are gone for the moon is too broken and is not as illuminated as it was the first time.

Then she remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. His eyes shone so bright, held much admiration in his gaze that she couldn't understand for she is nothing sort of a goddess the moon had blessed.

None of her poems caught the light and the life in his eyes when they first met: of how it looked silver and storm that reflects his turbulent emotions, of how his eyes reached the depths of her soul with his gaze, of how he saw her as his moon.

None of them could ever describe how his eyes demand to be stared at. None of them.

But then, he was a fleeting light like a poem you will only read once for it is blindingly painful that it hurts looking the second time.

And now, she feels a part of her is missing as she search for the stars up above.

And then she fixed her gaze, closing her eyes to the moon: wishing that when he said "It's because of you." He doesn't mean goodbye. Wishing he doesn't mean she's the reason why he's gone. Wishing that dreams aren't supposed to be just dreams for when they become reality, they take away the magical feeling.

A few tears escaped her closed lids and glistened as they bathe on the light of the moon as she thought of the last poem she'll ever write to him.

And then she finally whispered hoping the wind will bring it to him:

" And maybe,
   paintings and poetry
   couldn't hold a candle
   To every emotion
   we once had.

    hold a key
    when we
    first met.

    I should've known
    that that key
    is not for me

    For I
    was never
    your home. "
Entry # 2 To the Book I Will Never Write
Its so beautiful,
the part of missing each other.

The part of love.
Luiz Aug 20
He was the kind
that would
burn alive

for the one
to ignite
his soul!

and he did...
ethan gaskill Aug 15
things that i should
have said to you
ping pong around my brain
like hail in a tube
they’ll spill right out
“why do i always have to ruin
a good night out?”
“i’m sorry, i have to break up with you”
and then she just walked away
perfectly innocuous to an onlooker
but to me she was a hurricane
ethan gaskill Aug 15
i’ve written bout you
so many times
i can barely read my poems
without crying
i imagine my notebook
rolling its eyes
knowing what’s coming next
cause i’ve said it a thousand times
“when will you be over her?”
“when will your cuts scab over?”
“when will your wounds go away?”
never, they echo silently in my brain
Lynnia Jul 30
Eight is the number we share in years
A quiet plea, she hardly hears
This is where the magic ends
Giggling with her other friends
Eight is the number we share in years
Alone, I’m drowning in my tears.
The climactic climax of this series.
Lynnia Jul 26
Seven’s the number we share in years
Strangled gasps fall on deaf ears
Crying out and brushed aside
You can’t run and you can’t hide
Seven’s the number we share in years
Crumble, crash, succumb to fear.
It has been years since we have been apart,
But you will always live in me.
I wish we could go back and restart.

A sad smile and a broken heart,
Like the old branches of a tree.
It has been years since we have been apart.

I do not have words to start,
The clock strikes twelve thirty three.
I wish we could go back and restart.

I seek solace in art,
I hope it can set me free.
It has been years since we have been apart.

We are now miles apart,
Your face is what I wish to see.
I wish we could go back and restart.

I sit in my room with our to-do chart,
And you are not next to me.
It has been years since we have been apart.
I wish we could go back and restart.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved
I have been trying to learn this style of poetry, Villanelle. Let it be grey was one such attempt and this is another one. I hope you like it.
Xaela San Jul 24
I want to unchain this torturous strings
Strangling every hope I insist to have
In the life I thought I owned for a lifetime
But I was wrong, this life was never been mine
It is to the monsters whispering inside my mind
Chaining every part of me
Tainting my soul to black
Yet, even if they reside inside of me
I don't own them, they own me;
Every night they sing to me lullabies of hatred
Never letting me see the light the world offers
Those monsters will never stop taunting me
Until I learn to find a way to end this life.
Özcan Sh Jul 11
She was in my arms
Hugging us tighter
Our bodies getting warmer
We close our eyes
And let our hearts
Be in one part.
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