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madison Jan 2019
my words
they can't escape through my sobs
i've tried to tell you countless times
but they are trapped in my throat
trying to make their way out through my gasps of air
im choking on all the things i want to say to you
amanda Oct 2018
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.
Mary Frances Oct 2018
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.
Jayda James Mar 2018
So smooth with my words, but not caring when it counts
The many times we kissed, i don't know the amount
So drawn in by your whisper
So engaged in everything you said
R.I.P to my heart, because that part of me is dead
what lead me to this point, what put me in this position
Had me concentrating on you, hopefully wishing
So smooth, the way i approached you, so eager with the way i grabbed you
I knew from that day on i didn't want to be without you
You lucked up this time, but i never gained closure
because i never wanted to let go, i just wanted to get closer...
not so smooth huh?
DW Mar 2018
seeing my grandmother cry herself to sleep
because she had to bury her lover 6 feet deep

a feeling that makes me cry myself
I never thought I'd have to feel
my poor grandmother feels so alone
I would do anything to help her heal

she wakes up each morning
completely in ignorant bliss
forgetting about the sobs in her sleep
without her husband's goodnight kiss

moving around keeps herself busy
drinking alcohol every night to make her dizzy

once the thoughts slow down
and her mind comes to relief
she must think about her deceased husband
crying in disbelief

she longs for connection
from the family who still lives
asking them to come around
before her heart gives

living through the days she tries so hard
but she struggles to visit his garden in the backyard

he still lives around their home
leaves his shoes by the front door
she will never be rid of him
her love for him lasting evermore

I wish I could help her
I think about her every day
and how my poor grandpa
never meant to make her feel this way
I wrote this one night after a family party. I had seen my grandmother all happy and drunk throughout the whole party but when she went to lay down and sleep.. I watched and listened as her discrete sobs rose up in her chest and fell down her cheeks. I knew I had to write this.
Kellin Oct 2013
Trapped behind these lies.
living in my world of deception.
Silence screams, ears bleed
Muffled sobs
Be who you are.
But I hate who I am
I am not good enough.

But you are enough she weeps.
I hate who I am but no one knows that.
Kee Jun 2017
the current flows rapidly down my cheeks
and my eyes puffy like balloons
my face quivering, the sobs erupting from my mouth
my knees weak
my heart shattered
i tell myself i shouldn't cry
that i'll be okay
but how do i know that?
how do i know that this hurt is going to stop?
what if it never stops?
is it like a toothache?
the pain comes and goes, only getting stronger and stronger until you have to get it taken out?
what if i can't remove this pain like i can my tooth?
what if this ache in my heart won't heal and the crack will never mend?
who am i to know what my heart wants?
maybe it's tired of my reckless decisions and has decided that it doesn't want to be healed
maybe it will stay this way and prepare for the next wave of pain to come just like that toothache
but...
what happens when the pain is finally too much?
can i die from a broken heart?
how will i prepare for another love?
how do i know that this is the one?
how do i know that he loves me?
how do i know when it's finally going to end?
how...
im in my feelings, lol.
Nameless Oct 2015
I remember getting THAT call... every second.
I remember the STING of the cold air, against my skin.
The JAGGED stains of dirt on my jeans
When I FELL to the solid ground.
...Like I was just STABBED.
Dirt COVERED my hands, that could be mistaken for blood.

I could HEAR the sound... of my heart shattering.
An EXCRUCIATING wave of pain.
I couldn't BREATH.
Choking out tears & Stifled SOBS, until I was nothing.
But, a SMALL mess on the cold ground.

My eyes flicker OPEN,
"Did I JUST die? Am I dead?"
I FELT dead, and empty.
I feel an AWFUL numbness, take over MY body.
I look AT the sky, through scattered tree limbs.
Specks of WHITE fall on me.
My hot face stings WITH every speck.
...with EVERY newly made snowflake
I now see MY breath in front of me.
Staring at the SNOW as it falls.

I am nothing but a SHELL,
I am NOTHING without her.
I live FOR her.
So... HOW do I learn to, live without.
I wish for DEATH.
But, I get CONSTANT waves of numb and empty pain instead.

I hate HER and I can't stand her.
...But I NEED her.
So, NO matter how much she hurts me.
I'd APOLOGIZE for it, and she's killed me so many times.
That if she got MY blood on HER hands, I'd clean them.

I just CAN'T un-love her.
If she murdered me.
The knife in my back, me falling to the ground.
I'd cry.
But, my last words would be...

I'm sorry, I'm SO sorry.

I'd say to her, "It'd okay, I still love you>"
Leah Jul 2014
nothing is more heart-wrenching than me-without-you.
Nothing is everything and everything is nothing.
Leah May 2014
Writing poetry has changed me a lot
since i became a subject of the material,
and my words are more fixed and flawed
than myself.

They flow from line to rhyme,
stabbing me into the heart
a hundred pages of thoughts
is spinning so fast
that i can barely catch any of it
if it really means
a lot to me.

It is as to flood me into downpour with it
from the Sun
yet the typical look reflected on a mirror
reminds me of who i really was
and nothing can be re-written from a history.

No roses can blossom without a rain, they said,
like they babbles up themselves to say
in front of enemies
that every petals are new-born warriors
and
the rest of  the past was the biggest blur
as if they were dropped directly into
a wrong time, at a wrong place,
like it's made by fairy tales.

— The End —