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Terra Levez Nov 2020
i kiss my salty tears off my fingertips
and tell myself
"ur strong"
"ur beautiful"
"i luv u"
U never did what i needed so i decided its time someone did it.
y not that someone be me?
Safana Jul 2020
It's has a bitter taste,
Others said, a sweetest
than sweet honey,
Like they said.
it's kind a sugary but
someone said.
I found in me,
When I am kicked
Erian Rose May 2020
She was
footprints traced in sandy waters
sunflower fields
bloomed in thorns
thunderstorms swept
in salty air
Her spirit twinkled
of northern lights
flirting with a million acres
of honeydew blossoms
She was
the magic
that he adored
Yonnick August Apr 2020
Salt lines stains tired cheeks
Passed by overused dimples
Like flowing steady creeks
Taking turns in their descent
Rushing very simply
Masha Yurkevich Dec 2019





Crystal clear,
smooth and cool,
it's standing there,
waiting for you.

You take a sip,
waiting for the

You wince.

What happened?

Where is the cool, crispy, smooth sensation?

Who knew that such an attractive, cool, and clear
glass of water
could be so nasty?

From the outside,
it had looked so good,
so ready.

But it was unknown
that the water
was full of salt.

Similar to water,
we humans are too.

We can look kind and sweet,
but be rude untrue.

Inspired when I unknowingly drank a glass of salty water.
Harley Hucof Oct 2019
So much to take to vibrate in higher states
To liberate what you must pay.
I try to make myself see,
I find emptiness in an invisible sea.
Held, blind, my eyes are not mine,
But the truth is clear ,
But my lips are sealed,
Anyway there is no one to hear.
While i am connected i am leaving symbols maybe someone will read for me my roles.

Words Of Harfouchism
Jiya Aug 2019
This illness in my mind is terminal.
There is nothing that can cure it.
It speaks oh so nonsensical.
It’s to be honest, quite hysterical.

I shot myself in the end
Whilst lamenting in my bathtub.
The hysteria was just too much
For my shattered heart to handle.

The judge declared her​​ the winner.
I whimpered in defeat.
I didn’t even place.
Maybe I’m just not that unique

Or damaged enough for poetry.

The metallic taste of blood
As I drown in senseless grief​
Tells me I’m not good enough.
To get back on my feet.

Her flared trousers tell me.
She has a great sense of style!
My black eyeliner.
It tells others I’m a coward.
A lamb ready for slaughter.
No Baphomet or Muhammad

Just a lost girl.

Locked in a vault of failure.
Being served defeat.
Getting grimaces from the waiter.

It’s th-the illness.
It’s forming cracks in my bonce.
It’s preventing me from winning.
From ever being at the top.

Y’know what?
She may always win.
With her pale moon skin.
Her suction cup stomach.
Her body so thin.

But me?

Just another **** failure, aren't I?
Laying dead in a bathtub.
poem I wrote (with a couple edits) for a 24hr poetry contest. I was feeling a tad salty about this one chick.
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