For weeks I spent,
This time amongst familiar faces I knew.
19 years and counting still,
Remembering the walls of the room,
I spent thinking about everything.
That familiar scent in the air,
From the make-shift ashtray I had filled.
Remembering the memories of friends,
Or so they seemed.
But I was glad, alone and happy
Sometimes sad.
In the room, where nothing needed to be rational.
I could cry when I wanted to,
Smoke when it felt like,
And curse when it was needed.
But most of all I was alone.
They said it wont help me,
Locking myself In a cage of secrecy.
What else was there?
Should I have spent time around more of those who didn’t care?
And as I sit counting days for me to return,
Return to this familiar land.
The more I find myself longing for change,
Was it really helpful?
A look at the list of unanswered messages,
A recall of memories of humiliation and self centered proposals.
I made the right choice.
This is what I was meant for,
Staying in the dark utopia I had created.
My soul binded to the isolation I had created,
And I craved every minute of this.
Away from every lie,
Away from every urge for contact.
Just me in this isolation,
Absorbing me into madness.
And I loved every minute of it,
For that is my life,
One better than the lies and clichés I despised.

Eleni 10h

Words hurt no matter how small.
Words hurt and hath their power to enthrall.

And I've been hurt
By your malevolent call.

Like the impossible love of Venus and Mars and as time progresses- the death of old stars.

You thought I would never miss you-
But I see your red hair as a burning visage in my mind.

I see your face as a hallow, sacred artifact and your lips as gentle as Hyancith's.

But that discus that Apollo threw
Has struck my heart and the blood hath spewed-

all over my hands.

So I sit like a hag, aged by heartbreak
Mourning like a widow- a black widow, that will kill her joys for a selfish sake.

Words do hurt no matter how small
Words hurt and hath their power to cause downfall.

1 'Hyancith's..discus that Apollo threw' refers to the death of Hyancinthus, a young beautiful divine who was in love with Apollo. Apollo and Hyancith were playing with a discus and Apollo accidently threw it and it unfortunately killed Hyancithus.

2 'the blood hath spewed- all over my hands' inspired by Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' when Lady Macbeth sees imaginary blood on her hands that she can not wash off. A sense of guilt.

".                          If
                         your
                 feeling really
            sad  let  your  tears
          go  it  will  ­make  you
          feel  so  much  better
           to open up the flood
              gates and just let
                    them flow

incoherent thoughts cloud my mind.
i am like a spider
who was never taught
how to climb.
thoughts of what could have been,
our stupid, well thought out plans.
the dull thud of a heartbeat next to mine,
keeping a rhythm that isn't in time.
desire and lust
and everything that we had in between the two of us
gone.
left behind.
like a piece of mold on a piece of white bread.
"it's bullshit!" i scream as i listen to music
that makes me think of you.
and my purple walls in my dark room
that were painted by our hands.
together.
a taste of something
i feel as though i will
never taste again.
i look at the hole in the wall,
and the broken ceiling fan.
the picture of you on my desktop,
an empty box of soda cans.
and i can't seem to remind myself that
there is always an end.

Eiram N 21h

I booked front row seats--my golden ticket
to your one-way loving. Slinked in, batted whiffs
of olfactory smoke and regret. Flipped first-class soliloquy,
you strained me through the opening act. From the wings

your stage fright eclipsed my unease, velvet curtains
draped to your knees. You knew this was the backdrop
to your shadowy fairytale, didn’t you? Was this not
all play pretence?

But your eulogical triumph wasn’t mine, your
dusty accolades I scrubbed and cleaned
but that doesn’t mean I’ll lap up your garish spotlight.
I craved your time like it was mine,
while you sought the money, worked
till late. Each night spent with me grew

shorter than the last. You clocked hours on the
bloody stage and your time with her. Everyone’s watching
your every move, and you can blame me but I wasn’t
your only female audience.

But still I sat through witty repartee,
endured political commentary. Plodded through
scenes of submission, witticism and poetry, as
wild faces gushed and roared in aisles to your
endless delight. But I’m afraid I was never fond

of your theatrics. She was your bedazzled heroine,
waltzing in at the ending scene. She kissed you at dawn,
left me at the stakes. I strapped on a mask,
shredded vignette lacquer off your favourite
movie posters. Plucked the plump jowls from

your antique leather armchair. The old
gramophone sat in the fireplace, melting timber;
‘The Swan Song’ played over and
over again. You moved out. “DARLING,”

the endless tune noosed my throat,
“DID YOU LIKE MY SHOW?” Your absence
tainted the windows, scouring all the rooms.
I cancelled tickets. Began anew.
You know, I never once wanted to be on that stage with you.

                             By Eiram N

A poem of a rather different style this time, trying to experiment with something new.

Life can be like a seesaw
With it's highs and lows
And sometimes at a low point
You hit the ground hard enough where it bruises and hurts
And sometimes you shoot into the air in a wild rush of euphoria.
Love can be similar.
Except with you on the other end,
You stay at the bottom
Holding me in the air
Feeling as if I could touch the sky.
But you can easily just get up and walk away without looking back
Leaving me all alone
To fall.

Needs editing

I'm laughing on the outside
(You're talking about your date again)
But crying on the inside
(Oh how I wish it was me)

My heart yearns for you
But your obliviousness pains me
So when you go on your date tonight
Have fun, be happy, you deserve it

It's gonna be another night for me
Hugging my pillow, just wishing...




Wishing it was you

All I'm doing
Is running back
To the person
I was meant to walk away from

Alyssa 1d

Music doesn't lie,
it doesn't hurt,
It sometimes barely fades.

Music gets in our heads just as easy as the words said
by loved ones right before bed.
The look someone gets in their eyes when they hear their favorite song,

Music can heal,
it brings us together, we stand strong.
There is no race to music, because you can truthfully enjoy anything.

Music combines us together,
So why can't we make love and not war?
why does the world have to be so torn?
Achieving happiness is a deep enough struggle,

So sit down,
Chill out and listen to some tunes,
Because you never know the day that will be your last.

Enjoy the melody,
let it put a smile to your face,
The music will flow through you,
and make you feel whole again.

dunno
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