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xia 1h
And the death of the star that was my love for you became the endless black hole that engulfed all my happiness.
a monostich.
xia 2h
In a world that is engulfed in shadow, where I drown in endless darkness,
You are the only star.
Bright against a backdrop of agony, you shine ceaselessly,
And lost in regret, pain, tears, you become my salvation.
Saviour hold my hand and pull me out,
Of the wreckage that is my life.
Know that whilst I stand at the edge of a cliff, blinded by hurt as I mourn you,
You become my sight,
My only light.
And I know you exist only in my mind.
But if insanity means your presence when I close my eyes, forget sanity.
My definition of beauty,
I’m ready to follow as your shadow.
i saw a picture, it was beautiful.
saint 20h
born into a family,
where resolve meant escape,
through silence or withdrawal.

the distance between love and pain,
a retreat from what we couldn’t face.

raised in the cold embrace of unspoken words,
where hearts were shields,
and love was buried beneath layers of pride.

they veiled their emotions,
masked in stoic faces,
refusing to show the ache that ran deep.

the flower they nurtured,
once bright, once tender,
pushed aside by their own selfishness and greed.

each petal lost to neglect,
each thorn sharp with their disregard.

the love they could not give
left a void where warmth should have been.

feelings, cold as ice,
the flower frosted over,
but inside, deep within its trembling heart,
it bore the weight of every feeling that they could never speak
and every tear they never shed.

within that fragile bloom,
i felt it all.
their anger, their sorrow,
their fear, their joy,
and the overwhelming silence
that drowned out any chance of peace.

i became the keeper of their unspoken words,
the one who felt everything they could not.
the weight of their unsaid love,
the burden of their unshared grief,
all carried in a heart too full,
too overwhelmed by emotion.

and though I learned to hold it all,
this tangled web of feelings,
i became a vessel,
overflowing,
caught between the unspoken coldness
and the warmth I longed to give.
emotional inheritance & generational silence | spend time with your family<3
Sorrow, hurt,
I'm hopelessly seeking warmth
From you who so distantly
Love

Love?
I reach my hands towards you again
But as my finger nears your surface
They immediately turn ******
And a whiplash of hurt and sorrow encompass me
Almost like I'm experiencing it for the first time again

I lament this relationship
Question my emotional yearning for you
When you so constantly trample on my expectations
I wish things were better
But I am here
I am me
You are you
You are you...

So vengeful I am in my curse on you
You're parents
Their parents and their parents
All of those who taught you such behaviour was sound
For it is I who is left with this dejection
This immense unending sadness
And maybe you felt this sadness too
And yet here you are, physically grown and yet mentally not
Inflicting this all on to me

I lament this relationship
Lament that I so constantly am overwhelmed by these feelings
So I hold it all in
And then burst in my lonesome
For who can hear my sorrows
With an ear of empathy
And a heart of understanding
No one

Silent treatment is said to be wrong
But opening my mouth just exposes me to more pain
So I resort to the numbing effect of silence
Avoiding your gaze
Avoiding your passed rage
Silence all encompassing, relaxing the muscles of my face

And so to shall pass this phase
As I shall be the one to hold my heart to warm it again
Moon & Rain

A boy gazes at the moon.
Suddenly, he imagines her 
the way she’d step onto the terrace,
Letting her hair fall through her fingers

As the memory drifts,
he recalls how he once saw her as the moon.
Likewise,
she saw him as the rain.

Though he was life 
soft, cleansing, gentle 
she called him bad weather,
and brought an umbrella.

He/rain could fall on everything:
rooftops, rivers, roses in bloom 
but never on her.
(Even though she stood on the rooftop to begin with.)

Rain was never meant
to touch the moon.
*She was never his to begin with
Just feel it
CE Uptain Jul 14
My whiskey bottle is crying, it’s empty for the night
Guess I’ll just sleep it off until the morning light
Tomorrow will be better, my bottle will be full
I can take the cap off and have another full pull
My whiskey keeps me sober; it helps to hide the pain
It holds back the sorrows that seem to pour like rain
Now it’s the afternoon and my bottle’s working fine
I feel better as the whiskey clouds my mind
My whiskey bottle is sleeping, dreaming of tomorrow
Thinking about drowning all that pain and sorrow
Wash away the troubles; rinse away the blues
Soaking down the problems that always come in two’s
Now I’ve got my cap off; tilted with the bubbles running free
Keep them going; keep it flowing, till I can’t see
Another from a song book. Technically I'm a beer drinker, but a drinker is a drinker.
Srishti Jul 12
Life seems to be dark,
with no hope
of light.
Dreams are more
beautiful
than
real life.

With my
weeping heart,
dipped
in the blood of
sorrow,
the petals of a
flower shed,
and what’s
left behind —
is the
dryness of sadness.
pain in our heart always brakes the person mantle heath
Robii Jul 8
Wicked
     Oh my nose
           You perceive just like a priest will perceive the anger of the gods
                  But you can’t tell me the wicked people around
              Have you no shame??
       No sleep for the wicked!
               You don’t even sleep......urgh
My nose
Chris Tyler Jul 7
I strolled the coast
Sun soaked my shoulders
Warmth spread up through my feet
from the sun baked sand, that
I felt, more than heard, as a subtle susurration of
    sand that shifted under my soles
    surged between my toes
A wave wandered out of the ocean
kissed my feet with briny tears
caressed and stole the silt from beneath my soles
subtly shifted my standing
sailed gently back to sea
My tensions eased with its withdrawal

A gentle bracing breeze arose
condensed to prickles on my arms
Awoke hairs to stand alert
Pungent ocean air and spray stung yet soothed
    my parched lips
shocked my nose with that smell
    of calm after a storm
I was a part of this entire panoply
I was part of this expanse
I was part of this
I was part of now

I glanced back toward where I must return

A titanic wave crashed against my back
blasted me to the sand
buffeted me cruelly
smote away my breath
ground grit into my palms
forced flashbacks that
sand is coarse and abrasive
    as well as tranquil and warm
I struggled and was beaten down
    and beaten down

Eventually
achingly
haltingly
I pulled up and gasped for air
sputtered crude and briny water
brushed the sand from my face
saw the sanguine cuts and scrapes
then heard their clamorous lament
that crested as wave upon wave buried me
and mockingly failed to wash away
    any part of my hurt

Blood or perhaps brine wept down my cheeks
and I had already been bleeding
from old wounds and cuts and bruises
unhealed and untended
and those barely healed ripped asunder
These shouts of agony drowned out any new tenderness

Will I always be bleeding?
Will I ever heal?
Will I ever feel safe again?
Will I ever even get all the sand from my hair?
At any rate, I must shortly keep walking on.
Chris Tyler Jul 7
To be as still as flowers in a vase –

Ones captured on a canvas bare and white,
Sprung forth by a Renoir’s or O'keefe's delight,
Delighting me when I see face to face
The painted hues and light imagined first
In frenzy, and slowly then crafted,
Created through practice, then mastered
Through weeks and years, repeated and rehearsed –

Oft comes, it’s said, from quiet in a life.
My serene certainty comes while racing
Through the woods of life, with stumbled pacing,
Crying as branches lash across one eye.

My stillness springs forth, with largesse,
With joy and sorrow, from distress.
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