Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nuala May 5
4 bricks in a line on the floor
in case someone dared to knock at this door
shadows underneath come and go
but it won't be me they get to know
10 bricks now for added protection
a sign reads "leave, please no affection"
comfort here in the shade
"go away i'm not here, leave" i prayed
20 bricks and counting to avoid the foreseen
I learnt how to build at the age of sixteen
this is not the first, i've been here three times
fallen head first for emotional crimes
and i wonder why i can't muster the trust
when consistence and kindness has been my gold dust
and always when I need them the most
I’ll run, I’ll hide and become like the ghost
all because the notion of security
has become somewhat of a peculiar obscurity
7 seconds to put up all the defences
and here I’ll sit with the everlasting consequences
crying out at my own reflection
“here we are, did it again, severed an incandescent connection”
how can I change when this has been all I know
this version of love had been taught long ago
if not filled with rage and sordid behaviour
cut all ties, sabotage, this can’t be my saviour
and the reason I feel like I need to be saved
is I’ve danced too long with the morally depraved
who treated me well with sweet degradation
and made me believe in self deprecation
so these walls, after all, are for me and not you
quietly hoping you have the tools to break through
An insight as to why
My Dear Poet Feb 7
Let’s plant this kiss
and bring forth fruit
our lips entwining
with tongue-like root
Let’s water this kiss
with tears we cry
over trees of life
lest they wither dry
Let’s bury this kiss
beneath our eyes
our last taste of sun
before light dies
Psychostasis Nov 2021
I love myself.
I love myself so much I hold myself some nights
And whisper "I'm sorry I let all these people hurt you"

I love myself so much it sometimes turns bad.
I get obsessed, envious of the attention I give to others.

Some days I want to **** myself.
I'm starting to think that's an act of self love, too.
And let's be honest

This world is cruel.
It's cruel enough that,
One could justify, possibly,
The kindest, most compassionate and loving act you could do for something you love
Is to remove it from the Tragedy that is the world.

And if I really love myself,
Why would I want to show myself more of this?

I must not love myself as much as I thought,
Because I'm still ******* here

Maybe, I just love myself much, much more than I believed,
And want to give me the chance to adapt, thrive, and over power this harsh, cruel world,
One tender action and freed soul at a time.
To me
TObed Aug 2021
Gotta carry a .40 with me everywhere i go
So i can protect her property and let it blow
Whenever there's a person who wants to be a splatted roach
Touch me and I'm not afraid to glow
Sparks levitating in the air you'd think you saw a ghost
She keeps me grounded but my mind's in space at most
Enough with that happy **** I'm back to norm
I'm starting to think I won't be here for long
Mind acts like its not my own, then i get prone
To mind manipulation tactics on a low
I usually write free verses but tonight imma switch the flow
Forced to change my style cause I'm here for the show
I watch her stack her luggage on my door
I'll gladly take it in but slow
I know she was sent by God on a low
From the heavens she dropped
In the end it all comes down to Him
Wouldn't doubt him for a second i know
Maria Mitea May 2021
The onion in  my father's hands had no time to cry,
he punched it with a fist on the corner of the table
then ate it with black  salt and sheep cheese,

(my father was paid in onions)

The onion in mother's hands was sweet,
it was named brotherly onion and made many many leaves
spring after spring
she shared it with everyone in the village that wanted to grow it,  
people kept asking:
how the onion touched by your mother”s hands does not bring tears.

The onion in my hands is waiting ...

to undress it with my hands, or maybe to cut it with a knife,
punch it with a fist,
chop it in a blender, or fry it in a hot pan that will hold it snugly,yet
with plenty of room to stir it ...
and maybe
sweat the onions. ...
cook until translucent. ...
cook until golden or brown. ...
cook until caramelized,

The truth is
i think,
whenever i have an onion in my hands
i think ...

The onion is calm,


The onion in my hands

is waiting

to cry
Onion - the symbol of eternal life
Melody Mann Apr 2021
You struck a chord the moment you entered the vicinity,
Captivating all that crossed your path,
The stride in your step coupled with the pride held in your respects,
Unified by the reverberance of your allure enchanted most,
She was not fooled by the glee celebrated by the free,
Naïve she once was only to awaken to the taunts of the mistaken,
She exits from all viewpoints,  
Holding a guarded heart with precarious intent.
Amanda Hawk Apr 2021
The night clung to me
Like a cold sweat
Pressing my dress
Against my skin
Until the dampness of my panic
Ran with my mascara
I nestled my keys between my fingers
Makeshift Freddy Krueger
Lashing out at shadows
As they slinked around my feet
Fear sliding slowly along my face
And wiped it away quickly
So I could forget
I was alone
In the middle of the city
At night
Leering glares and catcalls
Loitered doorways
Tugging at my sleeves
Twisting their claws in my hair
Offering up glasses overflowing
In broken promises
And blatant lies
As I tried to rush by
Looking for a vacant streetlights
To hover, fluttering near with paper wings
So I could forget
I was woman alone
In the middle of the city
At night
30/30 Day 3
Courtney Marie Mar 2021
our youthful wit
so cerebral
guards our consciousness like a sacred
Eli Apr 2021
Demon of the light,
Standing by my side,
Showing me the way,
Saying it’s okay,
The only person who makes me feel safe
Next page