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amanda 1d
shadows and silhouettes
dancing on the ceiling.
blinding blue lights
circle the bathroom mirrors
stained with purple lipstick.
silent vibrations from your phone
blocked by the shower’s storm
and overflowing sink water.
spilled lotion bottles
and untouched lemon wicks.
wadded tissues
colored in colorless tears
drowning in puddles
of the bathroom tiles.
girls’ giggles in the room next,
moaning through the right wall,
and sad chocolate eyes
abandoned behind the shower curtains.
wet hair, wet mascara, wet sobs;
your sad chocolate eyes
trapped in a nightmare.
He thought everything was alright
since he never heard her sobs.
So he went on with his life after
a halfhearted apology.
And she went back to bed
filling her favorite pillows
with her silent sorrows.
You are the only
Privilaged Anonymous
Travelling through the soul
With a free pass

Carrying a robust hope
Stirring all senses
Untangling memory
Intoxicating thoughts

All in honesty
Holy heartbeat
In a familiar rhyme
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Sync vibes
c 6d
I know you think I’m mad at you
Because I stayed silent when I dropped you off at your house
But if I’m honest
I knew I’d either cry or scream
If I opened my mouth.

Mad? I wish I could be.
For a few days, my pen will remain silent.
My mind will be numb and thoughts won't be violent.

For a few days, the writer inside me will hibernate.
I don't know when he'll return but I'm sure it is going to be a bit too late.

For a few days, I am not going to see the rising sun.
Will remain in the state of inactivity with no joy or fun.

For a few days, my face will look like a corpse devoid of any expression.
Expressing it didn't work out so I'll try the other way - supression

For a few more days, my heart will not be dilating just contracting inside my chest.
Hollowing me from inside, eating me up.
For some days, in peace I'll rest.
Hibernation, yeah human does that too..
It's time to take a nap..
The writer inside me wants to sleep..
Xylos Oct 15

I can't feel you
the same as I am.

We don't talk,

But you don't
to me,

And I,
at all.

It isn't on purpose,
Recovery is still working
it's way into my ****.
Kavya Mukhija Oct 12
At times, I wonder
if my face flashes
in front of your eyes
when you see them,
there, laughing with
their stomachs aching.
At times, I wonder
if I ever interrupt
your train of thoughts,
like the silent touch
of the cool breeze
On a hot sunny day.
At times, I wonder
if you too have a picture
on the frame of your mind,
of us, sitting
by the window sill
watching the rain drops
race down the window pane,
with a cup of hot-brewed coffee
clutched in our hands.
At times, I wonder
if you too think of me
while I'm thinking of you;
if your fingers itch
to dial my number
if your ears go numb
to hear my voice
if you ever crave
for my presence
Like I crave for yours?
Ken Pepiton Oct 11
"Why, you know's a spoken spell, a prayer for reason",
The magician said,

"I wanna think ***'s thoughts", and Mr. Newton, Issac said,
"After him". I stood the queue, knowing why, I kept silent.

Fundamental heretic is what I am.
Jesus was such a heretic. Ask any Pharisee.

Evaluation and appraisal, worship and praise,
who told you to do that? A shepherd kid?

A lonely boy under the stars in a peaceful valley,
beside still waters. Like Bob Dylan at twelve. Singin' along.

Worthy, so worthy, sang the boy, never knowing the role of
y after worth in setting the appraising price or prize

What's it worth to know death has no sting? A song?
Then sing, soft, don't wake the dead.
Snap. Why?
Jo Swan Oct 10
In the shadowy, silent street I walk
The darkness of the night engulfs my spirit
Like the soddy soils covering the rock’s
Brilliant colour of ruby, red passion.
The daring dreams for the future
Has caused my soulful eyes to ashen-
Blinded by the present reality-
The dreams begin to fade.

In the shadowy, silent street I walk
The mind has lost its mentality
And strength to wade
Through the current bleakness of life.
The midnight shadows of the street
Have caused me to lose sight.
Can the faith of the heart bring light?

In the shadowy, silent street I walk
The cicadas buzz bitterly in the quiet street,
Stirring memories of mundane voices
That has caused me to cheat
Myself from making personal choices.
I cry silently in despair
For fear has swept my sense of direction.

In the shadowy, silent street I walk
A distant street lamp lit up the solemn street
Providing me with a sense of protection
The heart burns with a passionate heat
Providing strength for my body to move with affection
Towards the mystery of the shadowy, silent street.

(c)2018 Joanne Chang
Sometimes in life we can feel lost with the direction of life we must go. Life can be full of insecurities. I hope this pain can reflect these uncertainties.
Amare Leslie Oct 8
your silent absence
is a ***** tree trapped in an april drought
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