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The ache was a parcel:

I knew it'd arrive soon,
but when it did,
it wasn't as great as I had expected.
kiran goswami Jan 31
And on some days
I just can't write.
I skim through pages
and
scribble my name a thousand times
and
End up realising,
I just can't write.
My diaries and notebooks lie open,
Blank,
White.
I look at my own words
and
End up realising,
I just can't write.
I stumble upon words
And fall insides holes of oxymorons,
And I end up realising,
my name and writing together are also an oxymoron.
I look for inspirations and motivations
But end up realising,
I just can't write.
I personify my emotions,
Add similes to my feelings,
Just like a heart broken by love does.
But I still end up realising,
I just can't write.
I read poems and stories
Of writers who could write,
Feeling, maybe someday even I would be able to.
I battle with metaphors
and
Scratch the onomatopoeias,
I injure the meanings
and
Spill my thoughts through my veins.
I shout " Alohamora " to my heart a million times.
I trace through the lines of the endings of my stories.
I try to go on like the brook forever,
and
I hear the voice of the solitary reaper in the daffodil fields.
Yet, as the day ends,
I end up realising,
I just can't write.
Meg B Jan 11
I have forgotten what
it feels like to be
loved.
It is so odd and
most definitely sad,
as I still know so
substantially what it
feels like to
love.
My existence is so
unrequited,
for even when you
again shared your
body with me,
even though two years
time had passed since
our last dance,
the wall you built remained intact.
I searched every surface
in hopes of finding a *****
in the stone that,
with some effort,
could finally help me to
topple the blockade.
But your love,
or what I have (probably pathetically)
convinced myself
exists on the other side,
it is as well-protected and
well-hidden as ever.
So I soldier on,
fighting my losing battle,
feeling love for you,
the love from which
I am doomed to be destroyed,
shot down, blood staining the
ground
beneath me,
no shield of your love
with which my body,
my heart,
could remain intact.
My mother is like a lightbulb,
She makes her mistakes
She burns and she brightens
And then she breaks.
-
My mother is like a lightbulb
She brightens the room
But make no mistake,
She can darken one too,
-
My mother is like a lightbulb
She blunders and cries
But don't think she's harmless
It's a well crafted disguise
-
But regardless of it all
Someone gets hurt
Palms are cut open
And fingers are burnt
-
And yet,
my mother is unlike a lightbulb,
Because broken lightbulbs
are replaced.
I wish she was different,
but I try not to regret
so I guess,
I'll take what I can get.
DG Dec 2018
Love is like a Frida Kahlo painting
It doesn’t make sense
It’s a bit absurd
Vibrant, definitely
And leaves you wanting more
Older than ourselves
Yet with a spirit younger than anything else
Sarah Nov 2018
you are important beyond your thoughts,
you have come so far in such a small amount of time,
your efforts are not ignored.
three hundred and sixty-five days have passed twenty times,
and you are still breathing.
i have loved you for three hundred and sixty-five days times,
the days you have suffered,
the moments you failed,
the hours in which you felt alone;
you were locked in but you wanted someone to pry the door down to let your demons out.
i have not stopped loving you and i may have stopped showing it but
that showed your determination.
you pushed on in your personal dark hours just to make it to the light.
the glow of hope that now radiates onto your skin,
you are living proof that strength lies within.
love brought it out,
but your courage kept it constant.
Written 9/25/2017
Gino Oct 2018
I
Feel the burning pain
of anger and pain
that frost the rough heart
with smooth flake

Tug the spiraled exultant
lifting up a man
everything's heaven
enemy is a friend

Don't take sorrow
under your wing
spare it for tomorrow'sake
or everything's ruined
The abrupt shifting of moods
Rebekah Wilson Sep 2018
Friends are like glue;
It's always so exciting
when they're brand new
and exactly what I needed
to put something together.
Then when it's completed
they find new ways
to stick around
day after day
until life starts
demanding so much
that more time is spent apart.
Though I had tried to be careful,
I seem to still find them everywhere,
but it really only takes a few minutes of drowning them in water to fix that problem.
Whittney Sep 2018
Wet
When I drink you in, I don’t gulp you down quickly. I sip you like hot coffee, always burning the tip of my tongue, preventing me from saying what I want to say.
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