Lynn May 10
when the tip passes through my skin blood isnt the only thing that leaves me
every other emotion and feeling leaves me too
i feel empty, but its better than feeling anything at all
its better than anything in the whole world

i drag the blade on my wrist and hot red liquid begins to bubble
it stays there for a while and i wonder to myself
how long will it stay there before the bubble bursts
how long will i stay here until i burst?

the bubble bursts sooner than expected and it begins to pour from my wrist
and it feels good
i feel okay
and okay is good
for now
blub blub
Allyvia May 9
I eat the dirt from your grave
And find no nutrients
Taste not the salt of tears
Or gag on revulsion as I once did.

All that's left is the lack of taste.
Scrape the soil beneath my fingernails
and don't wish for it to be your skin.

The realization I am free.
From you and from myself
No longer choking on my thoughts.

Shrugged your shadow I clung to
let it fall to the floor
Felt myself smile and sigh.

A relief.
Justin Lai May 4
red lull doze loose slip rush touch
web play warm pulse stretch flow wet
        weak cold wake clam wash clear
trod tense tight hold heave help
        sprain kin strain keep
        shut gross press pore
                           wings whiff wade win

clue ask nod green
        joust laugh jump red
Playing with monosyllabic words.
Simra Sadaf Apr 25
a vast endless spool of grief
they lied
time does not bring relief
god, i forgot what it felt like to love you freely
without denial, without repression
just plain, simple, acceptance.

last time, though free, it burned
my wings on fire
and so much for flying.

but now i love you
with an ache inside for how i somehow
miss what never was,
never—but almost. almost.

i love you from a distance,
love you from afar
with a gentle sort of pain
that i don't so much mind anymore

it's kind of comforting
soothing in its familiarity

i guess i didn't forget how it felt
to love you freely
not in this way, at least
because this?

despite occasional jealousy
and anxiety-wrought anger

this... this is new. and it's
okay. good.
like a balm on sore wounds

where before you scorched me,
now i just feel warm
and solid. whole.

certain in the knowledge
that this, undefinable as it may be,
is a love that will define me
without consuming me

and i love this love
i love you
calmly now, a little sadly
but mostly
liberally, easily

i wrote this a while ago and i just found it so i'm posting it

almost love sucks until you learn to accept it and embrace what you got to have instead of mourning what you could've had
Hailey James Apr 19
Are my dreams premonitions?
Or are they the bed time stories
I’ve created from fiction?
Maybe I’ve learned to fall asleep
to the comfort of the idea of you.

Truly and honestly,
My stories bring us closer,
Because in these tales
We’ve never hurt each other,
And forgiveness came easy
to the both of us.

Please let the pain end.
Have I not suffered enough
Under the power your touch once had on me?
Faded but still ruling like a king?
Scarred into my skin forever,
As my daily reminder?

I want to have faith in the world,
That what’s meant to be will be,
And one day my stories will be brought to life
In true motion picture format,
Tactile for us to touch,
But very unrealistic.

Don’t tell me I have to forgive you now.
My pride could never handle it.
To look into your eyes again,
And say the words you don’t ever deserve to hear.
Not from my lips to yours,
Not from my heart to your bones.

Rid me of these thoughts impure
Of sex and murder and you,
And of all the sleepless nights we spent together
hand in hand like I had always hoped,
And like I continue to hope and dream

How are you still on my mind?
Knowing full well that you don’t deserve
A place in my thoughts,
Not even a single second.
How does your memory remain so fresh?
I haven’t seen you around lately.

Do I want to talk to you?
Or the you I once knew?
Does it really matter though?
No matter the man I end up seeing,
Each and every time
I will always remember you the same.

Are my dreams premonitions?
Wishful thinking or a prophecy?
And whatever is about to happen
Will be both good and bad.
Just like the anger will carry over,
So will the love.

Tell me I’m right.
God tell me I’ve got it all right.
Let the world work in my favour for once,
Let the universe do what it was made to do,
And let fate create what was made to be.
Surely it cant end like this for us.
Hailey James Apr 18
I’ll have to look in your eyes again,
as you will mine.
I will yell as loud as I deserve.
I will let my rage take over,
And I will get the satisfaction of
Rejecting you one last time,
With every word being a
Sweet release.
Can you see what this does?
Don't you realize what this means?
The simple heartbeat of the simple man,
can't be relieved.
Their foolish concerns, knows no bounds.
But is there anything left to give.
Their heartbeat quickens at the thought of love
Their heartbeat soothes as they feel death.
As soon as it comes, the moments are lost.
All that is left are the glimpses of the past.
The universe is a wonder to behold.
Caught in the eyes of the beholder.
Keep those stars where they may, as they glow abruptly.
The color swirl, blending with one another as they create something new.
Dark's clash with lights, fighting and caressing one another.
Everything is linked with a blink of an eye.
Regardless of the feelings, they never lose sight.
The lights are slowly dimming, they search for a break.
They see no out, and admit to dismay.
Their heartbeat fades, their eyes close shut.
Welcoming death with open arms, they slowly embrace, what they call sweet bliss, and complete serenity.
And like that.
She eased the piece into the groove.
Nestling it close to her lips.
Suddenly her eyes closed,
That horn came to life.
Wide-eyed and bushey tailed.
Stretching it's yawn.
It walked around, journeying to the closest city.
Taking a mid day drive,
Wiping sleep from it's eyes.
It's twelve day noon.
Vocalizing it's croon.
The conflict of working long hours.
Two jobs, a mother of one.
Getting out the bed late.
Trying to remember if she's paid this month's bill or not.
The debate of taking the day off.
Sealed inside it's case.
To sleep the day away.
This weary horn.
With the kid off to school.
She has but a minute.
A loud yawn, the release of stress from a demanding boss.
Every croon loud and long.
A testimony of deep long sigh.
The valves pressed by weary fingers.
A mother of one finds deliverance
Next page