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annieohk Aug 2019
Phone calls that are never made
Notes that aren’t written
Gentle words left unsaid
So wrapped up in my own little life
I don’t see the tears
Or hear the heart cries of others
So many what ifs, so many regrets
Hindsight is always twenty twenty
But foresight is blind
Like cold eyes on a statue
That never see the world around
Trips will be planned but never taken
Beds will be neatly made
Never to be slept in again
Front doors will be locked
But that threshold won’t be crossed any more
Clothes will be bought but never worn
A gift received but never opened
A whisper of love not given
A warm hug not shared
So many things we leave unfinished
When we leave this world
It’s true that tomorrow is not promised
So why do I live as though it is?
When death comes calling
Those left behind will ask
Why didn’t I do more
Why didn’t I say more
Why didn’t I hold your hand longer
You know how much I love you
But I should have shown it more
I thought we’d have more time
I thought we had more tomorrows
Some times I think people die
To show us how to live
For my sweet sister Mary who passed away 3 weeks ago today. I miss her so very much...... ***** cancer!
Arlen Aug 2019
I lay awake
Cry for their sake
But not on the outside
My tears flow
From the inside
Numb thoughts fill my mind
As I wonder why
Why I cry
When I know
The worst day is behind
I know people say time heals all wounds, but I think they forget that it usually gets worse before it gets better.
Angela Rose Aug 2019
If you still have the people you love most in your life today-
Hug them
Hug them tighter than you ever have
Call them and tell them you love them
Never ignore their calls
Pick up the phone and call them first
Make sure they know

They have to know
They have to know that when they're gone you won't be able to sleep knowing they've gone away
They have to know that all throughout the day you will cry when they have gone to sleep forever
They have to know your heart will be missing a piece when they leave
They have to know before they're gone

You have to tell them while you can
You have to tell them that they are special to you
You have to tell them that you will forever miss their voice and their laughter
You have to tell them you will miss never seeing their face on the caller ID

My God, please tell your loved ones you love them


I love you, Dad. I love you so much.
My dad died a few weeks ago, July 16th. I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for not calling enough or for being too busy to call back sometimes. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for always saying "I'll call tomorrow"
Jule Jul 2019
A disconnect,
When they look through -
Rather than to.
An aching feeling
When one departs -
The understanding of
A world apart.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
Sailing the guilty-seas
as regret trickles down my spine
and unloads
its over-thought-husky-murky-thoughts
upon my shoulders.

My daily rations are here:
shame, regret and guilt.
They’re brewing me to the bone;
into a rotten broth.

My thoughts pace
backwards and forwards
from guilt —
for remaining stagnant,
one of the past.

For being recycled
relentlessly-unbreakably
in this unhealthy cycle.

It is a cycle
of forget me nots;
such vile fetters.

But no dose can
reverse the abused time,
the stutters-and-mutters
the time that slipped my grips
and the sins
that swallowed my innocence whole.

For remorse, guilt and shame
only anchor us back
unless we were to morph them
to fuel and experience
to propel us forward.
Joshua Harestad Jul 2019
He pulled the trigger and it was done.
Relief from remorse, there would be none.
Nothing he could do to make this right.
Never would he sleep another night.

He had been wronged, and that part was true.
It didn’t excuse it. He’d wronged too.
Fleeing the scene, he had run to hide.
**** him, and **** all his foolish pride.

He knew inside it would do no good.
His feet took him deep into the wood.
Waiting, thinking that was someone’s son.
If he could go back. Not buy the gun.

When they brought in the dog, he was caught.
His greatest sin, and it was for not.
Now he spends his days inside a cage.
He’s racked with guilt, and ravaged by rage.

Well aware that it’s what he deserves.
The greater punishment is his nerves.
Shame takes over, he’ll never be loose.
Late one night, his own hands tie the noose.
krm Jul 2019
I was fifteen years old.

Holding your heartbeat between my hands,
watching wrists restrained to wires,
attached to monitors reading your chest.
As the child, I did not want my mother to leave me,
but instead, I chose not to leave you.
There was not any time left to admire
the natural color of your hair showing through,
stealing a final glance at your emerald eyes.
When the overcast of death held you firmly,
I find myself loathing what it is capable of.
Only in a hospital gown,
were you swept off your feet.

Death’s arms pulled at what piece
of you I still cradled,
reminiscent to the time I held
a bird with a broken wing,
helpless.
I tried to put it back into the nest,
but the mother rejected it.
Your body rejected medicine
the same way.
Joshua Penrod Jul 2019
A gun is a dangerous thing
to put in my arms
But so were you

“Dangerous Things” -JP
Cedric Jun 2019
ere
sometimes i fear,
the time that is near,
in which i hear,
a mysterious seer,
become sincere,
and i see nadir.

im so sorry dear,
i have to shift gear,
for i saw a deer,
i saw it disappear.

i tried to peer,
but my eyes sear,
it caused a stir,
i shed a tear.

the chaos is clear…
a short poem i wrote on twitter about hesitation and inaction, being held back by your past; your regrets and fears
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