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As the night bloom
in sparkling lights
of stars and moon
wind is whistling in a lovely tune
You and me dancing
In an empty room
swaying in silence
feeling each other's presence
I am here but you were there
but your scent was everywhere
an apparition
a divine intervention
an unfathomable notion
that you were once here
feelings seems to adhere
oh dear
how i wish you were here
I really miss you dear
Anastasia Sep 20
She had a heart of ice
Holding his, she squeezed
He stumbled back, and she looked him in the eyes
She told herself he deserved it
Tears pooled in his eyes as he clutched his chest
“What you did,” She said
“It hurt,”
“You said you’d never hurt me,”
She said, her heart melting
She squeezed again
Blood dripping down her hands
He fell to his knees
She got closer
“We were supposed to be happy,”
She sobbed
He leaned in
And whispered his last words
“I never meant to”
And thats when it shattered
pictures of you that i

stapled to my

pillow, so that

you're there when

i'm lonely or

tired,

so that you

sop up my sobs and

soak in my screams, you

are beneath my deepest dreams and my

nightmares, too
i feel as though my body is no longer mine
a stranger in my own home

a b a n d o n e d * and *b r o k e n

isn't it funny how the one place i'm supposed to feel safest
is the one that does the most  d a m a g e
hey guys hope you like this one, its been one of the hardest poems i have had to write simply because its one of the most honest poems i've written in a while. please let me know what your thoughts are, your feedback is always appreciated
**
a sad word in many ways
we almost had our chance
our chance to finally be happy
not just together but also with ourselves
we almost made it
maybe if one of us held on we would still be together
or
maybe the  "almost" being in love is what saved us
maybe this almost love story was enough
maybe this almost was our everything
this is one of my favorite writes.  
i hope you love it as much as i do.
please be sure to let me know your thoughts in the comments.
Anastasia Jul 6
Hot tears
Roll down my face
Flushing
With shimmering eyes
"How could you?!"
I scream,
Hugging myself
Butterflies fly out of my throat as I cry
"You promised!"
"You promised me!"
I can't stop the heaving
Sobs escape out of my stomach
Heat takes over
Quietly I say
"You promised forever..."
I cry myself to sleep
Dehydrated
And salty cheeks
My head being blown up
Just like my phone
I can’t take the pressure
What did I get myself into
I feel like I’m going crazy
With an urge to yank my hair
And slam my head
Against a wall until it bleeds
Scream to let the pressure out
And sob to release the weight
Steve Page Jun 26
Your tears will speak for you
while your loss dries up all words.

The spreading tearstains
on my shoulder
are eloquent enough.
Loss strikes you dumb. That's okay.  Just find someone to hold you.
Martin Horton May 29
You made me cry.

You and your hundreds of brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents, ancestors that I’ve met in the past.

Painful, piercing, burning tears that cause me such pain, I worry I’m allergic to you.

But I keep on coming back to you.

Why?

You would have thought that I’d ban onions from my house. Yell at the top of my voice. ‘Onions be gone!!!’

But I can’t. You provide such an essential element to so many dishes.

Sometimes, I think I’ve got away with it. I’ve peeled you fully. You lie there, waiting to be cut, apparently unarmed.

But then your fury is unleashed as my knife begins to slice. You weep too. Tears of malice, venom and white hot anger. Tears that say ‘You’ve hurt me and I will not let you get away with that!’

Will you tell me something onion?
I know you make me cry but out of your dozen or so relatives, is there an onion that will make me sob?

An onion, where with each layer I peel, it releases in me grief and pain and hurt that I’ve kept locked up for years, and then I’ll finally feel cleansed.

Or did God, in all his wisdom, love and kindness, not create such a beast because he knows that I wouldn’t be able to cope with that much pain?

Instead, he treats me like an onion. But oh, so, so gently does he remove my peel and layers, washing away the hurt and grime with his tears of love and tenderness.
I wrote this on a writers weekend where there was a variety of objects I could choose to write about and I chose an onion. One of the biggest onions I've ever seen. And this is what came out.
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