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Intentional abduction,
meets skeptical reaction

Where the fuel light keeps blinking
and the sidewalks become an escape

Your gaze laid bare
throught crowd’s eyes
While mine, blankly stare
once I realizes

A plot woven
with desire threads
I’ll play pretend
Spitfire heads

My head is a mess maze
Let the lion chase
101223 | 00:50am | Nakula
Stress & drinks
here's the link if you're interested in reading more of my updated poems:
Zywa Aug 27
Not our statements are

personal, but everything --

that happens to us.
Poem "Det vi kallar 'jag' " ("What we call 'I' ", 1982, Lars Gustafsson)

Collection "Specialities"
I S A A C Aug 9
i threw a penny into a fountain a fortnight ago
i trust the process, removed my ego
the story unfolded like a novel
now I have room to grow
into the grooves, towards the sun
rain is a blessing to some
pain is a lesson for some
i trust the process, trust i’ll become
the words I write in my journal
the worlds I create are personal
Louise Aug 7
Five summers, four lovers
and three checkbooks ago,
I've been here, as I am today.
Same corner, same shade of gloomy day,
and about the same volume of falling rain,
still a one-call-away favorite friend of pain.
Only now I am much more
clever and conniving,
more calculating
and dare I say,
more frightening.
My approaching steps are the pitter-patter
of the storm starting,
the thundering warning of my arrival
is Manila's hour rushing.
Words from my lips
are news you'd rather miss,
however I can't say the same
about my infamous kiss.
I am older, and longer are my to-do lists.
My patience is longer,
but my heart no longer sighs or beats.
Quick cafe scribble
Lydia Jun 22
when I was younger I had so much to say
I think I overdid it and spilled so much out
I have nothing left in my cup to even sprinkle
N Jun 18
I’m sorry I couldn’t forget,
but you’re my first memory

I’m sorry you left,
it’s brutal how you
were able to forget
as I kept remembering,
and remembering still

I beg of you to forget me,
so I can forget me too

Let me keep my life,
and you keep yours
Katie Jan 2022
all the wishful thinking in the world
will never be able
to stitch shut
the happiness-sized hole
between her ribs

perhaps her heart was there once
before she grew jaded and bitter
towards this house she stopped calling home

towards the man and wife
she still calls mom and dad
though she wishes she didn't have to

it's not like she never asked
to speak her mind
without judgement and damnation
courtesy of the cross you worship

but as long as she bites her tongue
and dries her tears
and tells you she understands
you are Happy

that's all that matters to you these days
that's all that's ever mattered
a Perfect Daughter, seen but not heard

and when she does lash out
and tries to tell you the truth
you call her a liar
or a sinner
or both

and when she runs and hides
in the one safe place she has left
you kick her bedroom door down
and call her a coward for seeking shelter

and you wonder why she never speaks
with those wonderful words of hers
and tells you how she really feels

or why she never plays clarinet anymore
something she used to love
but that you made grating and miserable

and what about all those friends
that you thought were bad influences
and discouraged her from hanging out with

what happened to your Perfect Daughter
the one you pretended to love
for the last twenty years

the one you still lie about loving
though these days you believe it less
and patience runs too thin to fix anything

why does she waste her life
locked up in her room
always on those **** devices
instead of accepting her emotional abuse
and growing up like everyone else

why does she say she's depressed
and that nobody loves her
when you've done nothing to prove otherwise

why does she hate going to church
when it conflicts with what she believes in
and condemns her for being herself

why does she despise you
her loving parents
when all you've done is reject her

just maybe
it's because you stopped listening
just like she did years ago

and you wonder why it's always so quiet
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