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I remember the closure.
I took it.
Then put my headphones in.
I heard those notes play in that specific order
& I heard the emotions reverb through the passing era.

I heard your words &
I felt the pain from a third person perspective.

I heard that versions train of thought spiraling in some moments.

I felt the ground on my feet in summer as I paced across the parking lot;
Asking if I am actually missing gaps in the timeline.

Asking if there was something wrong with me.

I saw some of the good &
Said goodbye to it all.

When I got up;

I felt a weight lifted off my shoulder.
& A haunting image of a face off of my mind.

Anxiety went away with time.

Years later;
I woke up & the rose had died.

My heart didn’t hurt;
I swear I have feelings.
My emotions get the best of me - intermittently.
I preserve them in poems,
like fluffy dinosaur feathers in amber,
because emotions never last,
as our present becomes our past,
they flicker, like lightning bugs and disappear.
AJ 4d
I think about everywhere we've been, and the innumerable unreproducible moments

But then I remember quietly fighting about homeschooling in a Denny's

I feel like I'll never connect in the same way with another person

But then I remember that I am dramatic and each intimate connection is unique

I finally am finishing watching our last show that I just haven't had the breadth to pick back up again

And I remember the exact way in a specific moment of the show that you laughed
And how many times you laughed that same way through the years

And I feel pain,
deep in my heart

But then I remember,
pain never really fully leaves
Yemaya 6d
To Yemaya,

Am I enough?
I've given you everything
I've hollowed myself out I have nothing left to give
my new shell is delicate and fragile
yet you do not handle it with care
Do you not have love for me at all?

From Yemaya,
February 2021
Eloisa Jun 9
Staring at my return ticket
to the past
My sunset in a wine glass
Hazy but wondrous
Some things stay even one departs
Wayward thoughts, I think far ahead of myself. Stuck in my ways of a procrastinating thought, at least in the times I don’t know what to do.
Seems like there’s a lot of pressure nowadays. Alas with my careless
ways; of not caring at all for myself. Involved in the opinions of others, likely more than I listen to facts.

Sigh! Every piece I write feels like a sorrowful love letter to my past
self. That child would never sleep peacefully; knowing what future he
has to wake up to. But I need that younger me to keep on dreaming, for me to have something to believe in, (to hope in ) at these critical

But what about the future self? Do I even have the strength to bite on
my nerves; to remind him of current events? Writing in a diary I’ll
forget about in the coming years. Whether he becomes a success or
not, how long do I have to wait for the answer?

Longer than the patience I hold in my hands. Time fades away like a pair of jeans, worn out by the wearing anxiety of life. A button missing, with the threads sticking out. I've stuck out plenty, but few of the times that put me at an advantage. Foreign are my lips; by a tongue speaking blessings, that it feels like an unfamiliar language.

The pain never ends, but moves onto another. To change face, but still the first face you'll see in the morning. So perhaps the only thing I'll say to my past, and future self is, "I'm sorry"
Maurice May 23
I smoke to forget
I fill my head up with clouds
like a thick fog on the ocean blue
so my memories are unable to cut through

To cover up and hide away
all of my pain and shame of yesterday
I smoke to forget
my life full of regret

Like my head's up my ***
I fill my head up with gas
and feel relief from the fumes
that cloud up my room

As I lay here, I languish
contemplating my own demise
for when I look in my mirror
the eyes I see, I don't recognize

Because I fill my head up with smoke
so I don't have to evoke
all of my pain and shame
I have hidden away since yesterday
Zywa May 20
There are lots of stones

in my own cemetery --

heavy on my thoughts.
The weight of your own past

Collection "BloodTrunk"
Like a dead poem
who must be reborn
on the same night again
with all the endless silence,
words back to learn
to string his sentence.

"Everything that has been exhausted now it's between love and hate."

And a long road engraved
back to make a new face
along with each space.
We try to say the word go,
say the word again.
Everything that looks new
never forget the past.
And for all that is finished,
waiting for another story to the last.
Indonesia, 17th May 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
There was a time
When I didn't want to be
In the darkness anymore
I wanted something more —
To be the darkness itself

Been there

But I said bye-bye to that past
I shut the door so hard
That can't be returned to
It’s something I don't want to
See in my life

Never again
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