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Hanna C S Jul 13
My love,
You wove words into wool;
A spider, you strung sentences into works of art;
While I, blind and blundering,
Tried to find solace in the stitching;
Thread webs into safety nets.
Yet there was perhaps a fatal flaw I forgot to mention:
I don’t know how to weave,
And I’m really ******* scared of spiders,
And time, and loss and love and you and me and most other things.
(But mostly spiders - like heart-stopping-body-spasming scared)

So, my pretty Baby blue,
I wish you and I, a doomed arachnophobe,
Could exist between the lines of love poems,
Could spend mornings in bed with tea from our favourite mugs,
Could spend nights walking home from our favourite pubs,
Could be everything I wished for us.
But life catches on and time catches up,
So for now I’ll dip my tongue in sugared coatings,
And try to lick your wounds clean.
I’ll etch your voice into vinyl, and put your track on repeat,
An album of day-to-day complaints;
Awkward stories; and the reasons you’re always right.
I’ll sit content, and sway to the rhythm of your tune,
And watch you, my friend, my baby blue,
Move, and bloom, to the unique beat of you.
And maybe you in turn, if you wouldn’t mind of course,
Could teach me not to run from spiders,
Like I always seem to do
Nova Jun 27
Your peaceful walk is my anxiety.
Your camping grounds are where my nightmares take place.

What’s that?!
Oh, just a tree.

Your hiking trip causes me to cry.
What if we find something unwanted? Does that not make you want to leave?!

Why am I like this, you ask? I don’t know. Ask my Hylophobia.
Hylophobia=fear of forests, and I have it. It’s very common, actually. Like, I can go in a forest and stuff, but I’m still rather cautious.
The fear of everything

The fear of nothing
rei muto May 20
homophobia and tranasphobia.
why are they called
if they are not a fear?
This is a short poem.
ash May 7
heart choking on dread,
my feet timidly crept forth
towards my coffin.
I ran away today; and so I failed.
I couldn’t face my biggest fear; instead I bailed.
Suffocated from the inside out,
I was trapped and full of doubt.
Screaming on the inside, quiet on the outside;
within fear and anxiety is where I reside.
Sunny Apr 3
A silly fear to have, when you see it every day.
You even see it when you close your eyes.
So why does it continue to terrify me?

There's nothing bad out there.
I keep telling myself that even as I convulse with fear.
Yet I still run away with a pounding heart.
As if something is threatening to pull me away.
Arisa Mar 2
Spider in my room.
Tucked away in the corner.
I know you are there.
The paranoia of people scared by spiders is pretty funny to me.
Arisa Mar 2
Rich soil fills my mouth
And covers my eyelids in soot
As I hear the clank of a shovel against hard stone,
and feel the weight of dirt on my once pink-lips
Now faded to a dusty brown
As I'm buried
5 ft deep

Muffled footsteps leave my mortal presence,
The shovel left behind, next to my stump of a body.
No breaths to be taken,
No blinks to be had,
I think to myself, in this silent solace, surrounded by black:
Suffocation is slumber.
Not something to be admired,
But rather recognized.
I am one with the Earth
And the Earth is one with me.

If the police do find my body,
Or a stray dog digs up my death,
All I can say is that the burial was quick,
And that my
Deep breaths
Turned Shallow
I've once read a story about a child that was buried alive,and was miraculously saved by an old gravedigger who heard him scratch the roof of his coffin. This is based on that.
Arisa Mar 2
The ones with blurred faces
Knocked down my door last night
And tugged at my limbs with such desperation
- A rigorous exercise.

Their hands, rattling in a sharp neon glow
Stole away many things as they held me down
And shone the bright lights into my eyes,
Turning my pupils into hollowed colour:


All gone.
All taken.
All dead.
During the break-in.
All I see are faces I could not recognize. The strangers we face today are the people that break our hearts in the morrow.
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