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Cold sheet on my eyes
Frozen in place
What disgrace...
Hey! I see underneath
And yet fought against peace
Or I’m just weak..
Lord
...please forgive this one time I’m bored
Speeding past the sore fights
I idolize the lights
That’ve been long in gore
Finding a hole long dug before
. Let her stay
. I can only blame me
. And pay seas who fade me
. Thoughts of her evade me
. Own pressures invade me
. Like an evil vision
. Saying I’m best
. But born.. not left
. Holy nest
. And no other
. I’m poorly cleaver
Lord
...I’m no better




An ingenious kind of way
My brain only claims the to protest the faith
And portray the fame that I hate the same.
You and I, only His name
Know my brain
If you want...
Have all the same
As He who came
Died and raised...
*With who I am
What a scam ...*
What makes it okay to be angry?
I can never understand...!
Yet so blind sided with anger under truth with no perspective
Sarah Flynn Oct 18
I try to forget about
the things that I’ve done,
and sometimes I can

but when I get home,
I see that my bad decisions
are still stained into
my bedsheets.
Paul Idiaghe Oct 17
body blazing, he roams
with flames for feet, drags earth
behind his back, as in magma
melting mountains, as in moon
pulling, seas shifting; skull swinging
open
        like windows
                             at dawn—

all gloaming, sun slept on the satin sheets
of his mind; make merry the morning
melody till it awakes, it wakes—

he weeps, tears trickling like candle-wax
dripping from its flicker. he flares
& firmanents fall through the fumes,

bruised, blinded
—burning bush for his
banquet.

ash and cinder know not
his swelter. he bore the heat now
he becomes the fire.
The colour of rose shines through layers of dust on the glass, table, book, pen and twists itself upon the sheets to become purple. If the touch of sunset rests on my eyes, let the inward worlds grow. For the light is here to made and remade, brushing  shadows. Cover the veil blue and mesmerise the senses. Augment the quickness in slow movements of pearly thought from the deep depth of almond core.
Em MacKenzie Jun 5
There is only so long
you can struggle to make a bed
before you realize,
that it's a futon.
An old note I wrote down months and months ago.
Tsunami May 21
My body still searches for you
In a sea of bedsheets and stuffed animals.

I try to mimic the warmth of your arms around me.
I, once again, fail miserably...
Just like I did when you packed up and left.

My hands sleepily clasp at nothingness.
I am half asleep,
Just at the stage before waking up,
Desperately trying to find any semblance of you.

I was always told my insomnia was the reason for my lack of rest.
But what do we call it when I can not fall asleep without you beside me?
God I miss your body beside me, it was home if I ever had one
Amanda Apr 19
As I stare at blank sheets
To jot down my thoughts
Realize how alone I feel
Only friends are vacant lots

These restraints tighten around my words
Keeping in place
Long to leave their chamber
They're running out of space

I really want company
Singing solo to an empty room
The cage known as my conciousness
Lyrics of honest emotion attempt to bloom

Remembering yet unable to manifest
Moments sliding around mind
My suffering festers in seething sores
Until despair is finally defined
About having writers block when you really need to express something a certain way and you cant find the right words
Poetic T Apr 17
bleak times as all fall
warriors ebb differently

obscured within sheets
575 snow
Poetic T Apr 10
Life at this moment you cant be bullshitting
me. There isn't an April fools that's getting
even close to what we find ourselves hitting
any where near to this.  it's so unfitting.

But no matter the **** hitting the fan,  I haven't got
any bog roll. I can only poo outside before I'm caught.
But leaves are natures wipes and I'm dammed if aught
I'll sleep with skids on my sheets, but if I do I'll just smile.

But underneath I gag as the sweet corn is natures reminder
to wipe before, as they feel like coffee not  put through the grinder.
I feel like crap my legs woefully tanned, not because of the sun,
crap skidding my legs,  as if you lift the sheets its a gross viewfinder.
Ordinary Love
by Michael R. Burch

Indescribable—our love—and still we say
with eyes averted, turning out the light,
“I love you,” in the ordinary way

and tug the coverlet where once we lay,
all suntanned limbs entangled, shivering, white ...
indescribably in love. Or so we say.

Your hair’s blonde thicket’s thinned and tangle-gray;
you turn your back; you murmur to the night,
“I love you,” in the ordinary way.

Beneath the sheets our hands and feet would stray ...
to warm ourselves. We do not touch, despite
a love so indescribable. We say

we’re older now, that “love” has had its day.
But that which love once countenanced, delight,
still makes you indescribable. I say,
“I love you,” in the ordinary way.

Published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly, Mandrake Poetry Review, Carnelian, Poem Kingdom, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Famous Poets and Poems, FreeXpression, PW Review, Poetic Voices, Poetry Renewal, Poetry Life & Times; also winner of the 2001 Algernon Charles Swinburne Poetry Award

Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, ordinary, commonplace, everyday, love, bed, sheets, warmth, comfort, delight, limbs, night, light, white, hair, back, hands, feet, romance, passion, desire, longing, ***, intimacy
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