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Man Jun 2023
She writes poetry
As though she knows me,
But what a facade
She's really seen.
Only a surface glean.
Calm still water,
Digging below the depths,
Raging saline.
Debbie Lydon Aug 2022
Desperate, so agonisingly glutted with yearning,
Yearning to hear my voice and to know that it resounds,
So roundly that I am all at once myself, And so much myself that I remember my eyes,
My eyes that have long been forgotten in cruel glass.
Cruel, cruel glass! I have long been abandoned, and long been a veil,
But such a thin veil that always would wane,
It's falling slowly now, like a prophecy fulfilled,
Get ready to see, get ready to be seen.
The beauty beneath all our very thin veils
Ylzm Jul 2022
as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable
Zack Ripley Mar 2022
If, today, someone walked
up to you on the street and asked "would you rather be seen or heard?", what would you say? Would you humor them and stay? Would you simply walk away? Growing up, I always heard kids say "I wish I was invisible."
Maybe it was because
they were shy.
Maybe bullies made them cry. Maybe they were embarrassed about how they look.
Maybe they just wanted
a safe place to read a book. Whatever the reason,
I can't help but wonder...if, today, someone walked up to you
on the street and asked "would you rather be seen or heard?", what would you say?
Would your answer be different than what it would have been as a kid? Or would it be the same?
Josie Stewart Feb 2022
I see you lying in bed, overwhelmed with feeling.
I see you giddy, smiling so wide you can't keep your eyes open.
I see you holding space for the ones that matter to you.
And I'm lucky that one of those is me.

I see you someday, barefoot in the grass.
I see you standing in your radiance beneath the autumn glow.
I see you poised to speak, with a crown of flowers on your head.
And I'm lucky that you'd speak to me.

I see you every day, dreaming more and more.
I see you chasing after your desires.
I see you accepting all the love that comes to you.
And I'm lucky that the love you take's from me.

You see me everyday the way I see you.
You see the tears of joy and pain.
You see every bit of me.
And I'm lucky that the one I see is you.
Broken Pieces Nov 2021
Read it forwards but it's all the same.
Read it backwards, give it a name,

Just go away.
They don't want to stay,

How could you believe they care?
Don't think that life is fair,

I'm tired of living in the past.
Turn the time, make life last

This isn't goodbye, I wish it was.
I want to be floating in the stars,

But life tends to be mean.
I want desperately to be seen.
~Read it backwards or forwards but it's kinda the same, not quite a palindrome, though the meaning is the same~
Mose Oct 2021
To be seen for the first time;
Your palm pressed firmly against my cheek but I felt it radiate in my chest. Watching your eyes gazing the horizon of my pupil. Getting lost in the breathless moment of our desire escaping. I don't think there are enough thank you's to be said about that moment. By now I would have already created an extended fantasy of this night turning into a lifetime, but not this time. This moment shall be pressed like lilacs in between my journal just as is. This time I don't pray this road leads anywhere other than where it actually ends. I could have said I loved you in that moment but I waited till after you left & just told the universe thank you. Thank you for whatever this transforms or ceases to be.
Sadie Grace Oct 2021
It left residue on these two hands
so much that you won't shake them
you won't grab them when these hands are reaching out
You're scared these ***** hands might infect you
these two hands
they're bruised from the anger
scarred from the anxiety
& sticky from the memories he left
these hands are worn
& weary
looking for rest
so when they reach out
these hands, this heart- they're in distress
and even though these hands are sticky
I am not asking you to clean them
Just hold them
make them feel seen
cuz there's residue now
but one day these two hands will be clean
A poem I wrote a few years back
Herena Rosas Aug 2021
I'd like to tell you
the story of the eyes
that changed my world.

It wasn't hazel but instead
it was sunken bloodshot eyes.
His eyes were heavy-lidded and
fringed with incredibly long lashes.

It was deep and empty yet
it was penetrating my soul.
Invitingly mysterious and all
I could think of the first time
I laid my eyes on it,
I was love-struck.

It was restless yet it
makes me breathless.
Allured by a round burning
I for sure was bewitched by
his unusual ***** of sight.

I was lost in a hollow
passage of his soul.
The colors that are painted
beneath his eyelids was full of
sorrows and chaos.
They are beautiful but
it was cold and dark in it.

It carries his heart and
draws everything in it.
It captures all that I am
and makes me see things
some can't.

A hurricane in his eyes yet
it laid my nerves calm.
A very familiar and miraculous
jellylike pair in a bony orbit.
It harbor the lonely skies,
enigmatic as the universe

His eyes were unconquerable.
You get lost and you get found.
I was 15 when I wrote this.
Herena Rosas Aug 2021
Where the heart is; sometimes a familiar place
Most of the time has heartbeat and a pair of eyes
A room filled with ray of hope; your favorite space
Arms that wrap your flaws while you cry

Hands that touches your soul and make you whole
Walls that protect you and make you feel safe
A fire lit that keeps you warm when you lose control
Thine soul who embrace and accept your imperfect shape

Solid foundation that carry your weight of regrets and mistakes
An open door where you find the sense of belonging
Dim light that brings comfort and stop your aches
A warm breathe you will always look forward in the morning

Wherever that person go; it felt like coming home to a being
Home isn't a place; it's a feeling
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