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i found myself stuttering over your name in conversation

it was almost two months ago

although i keep wondering if it happened for a reason
maybe to prevent the eventual sobbing that night
doesn't mean i don't kick myself for it

i constantly feel the weight of your ghost
maybe it's selfish of me to notice the consistency of you
or to assume it is always you

or is it low of me to think that you wouldn't be there

i've held onto this thought since july

and i'm just angry you're dead
baby Sep 7
When you talked to me
I hope it bumped your confidence
I hope my skin
Made you feel like Adonis
I hope I tasted exactly like
Whatever you'd been missing
I hope my makeup stained your t-shirt
And you'll remember how
You felt when I let you touch me
For the very first time
You'll remember it forever
So help me God

So many years have gone by
But I've been sitting at the table, stuck
Looking for all my puzzle pieces
And it's always incomplete
You took every part of me
And built your life's mosaic
While im left
Missing edges
All holes in the middle


And I hope
The next time you kiss her
I hope it makes you sick
I hope she tastes like venom
And I hope she bites you back
I hope you learn how bad it aches
To stop your own bleeding
To climb out of this pit
Stacked high with ruined moments
Soaked and steeped in blood for years

And I hope
Most of all
You crawl home on all fours
Across miles of eggshells
Like the ones you made me stand on
Every minute
Every day

I hope you someday have to wonder
If you're full of dust inside
And if they ever cut you open
Would you feel it at all?

Because even though
Every day I'm born again
My cells are new.
You haven't touched me.

You still haunt the empty spaces
In the back of my mind
Your fingers wrapped around my veins
And held me down in place
There's a scream in my mouth
And it sounds like
Alexander


And while I'm busy treading water
And trying to survive
There's so many people to talk to
But nobody to listen
When the pieces fit again,
The puzzle is old and bored
And everyone wonders
Why it took me 10 years
Just to lay a ******* outline

The truth is
I've been missing the picture
Since the day I let you in.
I cant stop thinking about you
Even when I write the ****
It looks beautiful to me

Even you are talking about my idle personality
I'm no longer care about it anymore

Take my hand from the paper
I might feel like I'll slap you in crew
sorry to say you are welcomed to do it

My heart splitting
blood out
I wrote a fake novel
name my pen name
pretend it's done
Evie Aug 25
do you feel like an abandoned house? i swear sometimes it is just painful to breathe. i told him i felt daggers inside my lungs each time the air entered my body. air is life itself, all of us need it - but then why is my body rejecting it? because i am an abandoned house -my air hasn't moved for ages and it just rests - stale and comfortable. eating dust. creating these invisible angry daggers.

do you feel like you have been lying to yourself? lying is a comfort and a privilege that all of us can have.. which is a whole contradiction in of itself. i have been thinking about it quite a lot. i have been thinking about the invisible daggers in the air - they are impossible to clean nobody sees them. and they are so vengeful - a quiet sort of rage, caused by neglect.


have you been fighting with your parents today?
Ahmad Attr Aug 6
I stood on the precipice
One more step till my death
I thought I will be gone
But I had no other choice
These little devils were pushing my back
One last look at the river below
No rocks to be seen just silver
In which the sun was admiring itself
like a mirror
I told my fearful bodies lies
That maybe, I’m jumping into the pile of tulips
But I was still scared, I was only five or six
Amidst the cries of boys telling me to drop
I closed my eyes and took a breath and hopped
1, 2, 3  splash
I opened my eyes and it was all dark
Before I was pushed by water all the way up
My clothed body tasted the water
I saw the faces of my cousins, brothers and my father
Smiling, cheering and laughing
In peak of June, when summer couldn’t get any hotter
We were on a picnic under the Royal Bridge
In this glistening, cool water
Where my mother was busy catching fish
And then we had our home cooked meal
Roast, Rice, Tea and Toasts

I still think about that Jump I made
To do that again I went back to that Place
I thought If I dive and never come back up again
I will return back to those happy times
So I stood on the precipice
One more step till my death
But when I looked down I can’t see any water
Now It was all mud and puddles
‘’Why is it getting more hotter?
It’s not even summer anymore
Will I even succeed if I take a leap
Will my bones and spine be crushed
Finally putting me to sleep
It’s not even a pretty sight
The mud, the heat, the heap of muck’’
I was brought back to light
I was brought back to life
So many people are dying
The Earth is dying
So what’s to point of me trying
To end what’s meant to go on
The River under the bridge is gone
But I must flow like it once did, I must go on
TW: suicide

This poem is about fighting the thoughts of suicide and finding meaning in life
my husband sitting on my knees
in past he was so ragious
he screamed so hard he lost his breath
his passion was contagious

he tried too hard and bruised his hands
he lost his courage on the way
cause he was never suited there
he tried to get away

now there he is so nice and calm
he ain't the one i loved
I’m not the prize - he never won
I wasn’t on his draft

he ain't a captain of the sea,
or writer, or a pilot
he ain't someone he tried to be,
yet he’s so calm as violet

my husband sitting on my knees
in past we were just crying
and now the comfort of my heat
is stoping him from trying
richard smith Jul 28
fog
my fingers were shaking
out in the cold
i opened my eyes —
it’s all filled with smog,

enveloping and lulling
intoxicant smoke
windows wide open
inviting the fog

the curtains were open
the door was wide open
the pen in the hand
was writing and writing

the words to my loved one —
the ones, i was hoping
to tell him one day
but
i never had spoken

after stupid dialogue
couple stupid analogues
him comparing me with others
it got all filled up with fog
richard smith Jul 28
He built my little dreams around himself
And sculptured all the fears
It felt like I was banished on some ancient shelf
For many many years

I can’t remember little dreams now
But I remember how they sensed
The light filled everything around
And I was chained, I was fenced

Those little-little sandy castles
The towers were shining as pure gold
Each one was prettier then other
The beach was sizzling — they were cold

In cherry-colored Chevrolet
That we were riding on each evening
The trees around us — like ballet
Were puffing up as they were preening

Sometimes we have to be alone
And I was planning to get lost
Without intention to come back
I’ll pass him feeling of being tossed

I’m gonna buy a blinkered ticket
I’ll sit on ***** freezing train
I’m gonna travel to my castles
The last thing I may ever reign
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