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Alifia Sep 3
It's feel like i trapped in somewhere that i don't know for sure.


The one who supposed to help me, nowhere.
You, yeah, you.
Kody dibble Aug 29
People come,
Talk, wander,
Do things that are substitutes,

For what?

I don't know,
People know

I like the idea of beauty
But it's the most evil
It limits you
to itself
and burns us to wretched girth
shadow's of former selves they say
I love to love to love
tell me how you want me to love you
in the ways you cannot love yourself enough
pressing my ear closer to your mattress
restless under your pillowcase
my teeth become something disposable by morning
your mouth begs to be fed before sunrise
lips parting for stale air between lulls in our interactions
as if saying something could make me breathe easier
knowing i will respond before i simply can't
i am expectant in the ways you clear my lungs
before lying in the bed you've made for us
tell me again how you want me to love you
in the ways i cannot love myself
to fill a void made for no one in particular
folding corners of my blanket back over each other
there is safekeeping in barricading thread count
fingers numb from pressing us together for too long
losing my grip on what reality i have succumbed myself to
tell me again how i have done this to myself
in the ways of tolerating your recklessness
pillows becoming somewhat of a buffer
for noise that concerns the neighbor at night
what good will yelling do if your body constantly screams
shouting for someone who left awhile ago
slipping out of your window at night
tell me how you want me to leave
in the ways you cannot tell me to
too afraid to make noise in a silent ballet
tiptoeing around uncomfortable conversations
dancing over select words in exchange
with the rhythm of my accelerated heartbeat
teju Aug 12
was looking
through the smog
wandering at
isolated places
in the forest,
listening to all
the horrifying
trying to
identify the
masked faces,
with the feeling
of some
A sudden jolt
woke me up,
to make me
it was just a
Midnight Dream!
Jule Jul 30
There was a time where everywhere felt like home
I found home in others
By actions, words and gestures
Then I would find home in places
By the familiar cherry wood my dad used on our first house
Or the bluestone that also lay by the gardens
Or the melodies my mother played and sang on the Young Chang
New places and people were never a problem
I always knew how to find a home
Until I met you
I realized I had been living in temporary homes
Now nowhere feels like home
I can't find the path to the ****** gardens
I can't smell the fresh wood
I can't hear the melodies
Did they disappear?
Did I stop looking or listening?
Johnny walker Jun 14
There were times In my life I've been hurt but never quite been broken for I know my spirit far to
strong to do
And times I've been down and almost out but always to drag myself to my feet beat the Inevertable
Never once have thrown the lowel Into the ring to say I couldn't carry on so many fights had with
but always seen them
through and still remain unbeaten In so many fights  I've had for survival
just to survive the every
pressure of life but thus far
I've made through but can't say the same for tomorrow
for that I'll just have to wait and see
Just a poem I wrote whilst I was drinking coffee In Macdonalds
Lilly F Jun 12
I could ruin the best places for you
because once I'm gone
and you go back to all the places you took me
all the places we dreamt of going
all the places you said we'd go
you can't help but feel me there

I could ruin the best music for you
because once you don't hear me singing the words along with you
the sound will feel empty
the song will grow old
and my voice would echo in your head
you can't help but hear me

you'll never forget about me
and when you bring the next girl around she'll see me
reflecting in your sad eyes
when she hears our songs
when you take her to our places
and oh, like the taste of blood in the mouth,
you can't get rid of me until the bleeding stops

© L.F.
heartbreak follows you until you move on
Ankita Gupta Jun 10
If places were words, I would read them all day long and then some more at night. I would write them down beside one another to capture the best combinations.

If people were symphonies, I would listen to the music in them every morning. I would keep the best notes and cherish them for life.

If languages were colors, I would wear them with pride, all reds and yellows. I would paint my city in all shades.
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