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Allesha Eman Oct 12
I found that the cracks in my skin began to heal whenever the moonlight lingered by my window,
during the nights when I let the wind bring in its cooling remedies.

I would sit still, lost in my head,  
With a storm brewing in my swollen heart,
Ruminating as I opened my eyes,  
And I watched the dainty fabric of my curtains as they danced with the cold breeze.
Slowly sunlight leaked into the sky as birds sang their delicate songs,

And I found my restlessness fast asleep on my palms.
For a moment, time was standing still and I was...

healing.
Liv Oct 6
there's a war waging on in my head

as it turns out, staying inside these walls while the world passes us by
isn't the best for our creative minds, or is it?
3 am often hits me like a brick and is met with tired eyes and yet another restless night.
crumbled, torn up pages collect in the corner.
the contents will consist of unfinished pieces
and disconnected thoughts;
acting as a representation of my muddled mind.
and it could very well be the wine,
but this state of being is beginning
to feel all too artificial.  
its almost as if we were programmed by our creators only to be destroyed.
and those of us who lack conformity are sent down an assembly line labeled as ‘defective.'  
Our box will read, "Lonely twenty something-year-olds with mild to moderate ******* addictions. CAUTION: has a temper."  

But darling, don't be fooled:
for we are all the same.
We may be hiding behind
our individuality or lack thereof,
but we are, in fact,
only pawns in a game.
Restless.
The unknown and the very familiar knocking on your door.
Everyday.
Forcing you to have them make their way through.
You.
Breathing in and out, you try to be one with everything around you.
Wind.
Thinking the rain would be refreshing but today you can’t smell a thing.
Walking.
So restless and no control so having to surrender and give in.

To everything.
To everything, sometimes it gets so old to be dealing with the same things.
And not knowing if they will be what you hoped they would be.

So nice to just be able to be in the moment.
So nice to be able to share it.
So nice to have it all for yourself and not care whoever else is there.

Sing.
Breathing, or just making noises that you’re feeling like making.
Moving.
Not fighting your body in moving and movements in moments.
Cuddling.
Under a sheet and really loving somebody, their body.
Noticing.
And smiling and strechting, take a little breather.
Waking.
You know you’ve been through the night and there’s a new beginning.

Always hard and not very interesting and somebody will be taking your place.
Whether you’re rushing, stressing or forced to be resting.
Always starting over and over but oh, sometimes these moments...
They feel, taste, smell and look just so amazing.

And so you’re jumping and floating into the unknown or the very familiar.
And you’re opening the door.
Oh please, just open up that door.
I’m knocking...
I know you hear me.
03-10-20
Sarah Strack Sep 13
Train horns pierce the muggy night.
Persistent in their cacophony.
They shake the walls and sound the time.
Like midnight roosters.

I shift beneath my stuffy sheets.
Roused from fitful sleep.
My eyes move to the bedroom window.
Drawn to the alure of night.

The moonlight has me in a trance.
Stray beams beckon me.
Dancing light to call me closer.
Through intermittent haze.

Now I feel the fog behind my eyes.
The night's hold has loosened.
I drift away until I'm awoken by birds,
Or the siren songs of boxcars.
SWebster Sep 10
Were there clouds upon the sea
For they would shelter me;
Were there string tied to my heart
For you to pull them to and fro;
Were there clarity in my mind
So that i May function half the time.
Were there peace in my soul
So I would not lust after you no more.
Alexa Malyn Aug 31
that
Bone chipping
Heart throbbing
Teeth grinding
fingernail biting
Mind racing
Toe tapping
Kind of anxiety
Allesha Eman Aug 25
IV
From the moon,
comes a letter of reconciliation,
an apology carried with the tide.
Written in an ink infused with hope,

to be read on those restless nights.
Mrs Anybody Aug 25
she is
restless

always
searching for
something
also check out my other poems!  :)
Perpetual Evening.

Car door.
Street light.
Your Lips.
Never felt better.



GarretT JohnsoN
oooh, wait....uh never mind.
This rose color makes me sting,
Its petals bite my soul like a knife,
Thorns pierced my heart,
My grin is lost in the dense forest,
That rose reigns in that dense forest.


Blood tears coming out of my eyes,
just like,
dew drop of the rose petals seen,
My heart is thundering like a cloud,
Tears like raining in dense forest.

These rose colors are like my sorrow color,
Red color is like the blood of my loved ones who died,
White color is like shroud of my loved ones who died.


Rose makes my eyes restless,
My heart soulless,
I do not want to see them,
But in my dense forest, roses are roses.
This poetry is based on Imagination
in which i am the part of such dense forest where only roses and roses,every roses are cause of my pain..its make me restless.
But after i'm part of such forest.
where only pain resides.
Thanks for reading
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