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Zack Ripley Feb 23
It's not about the bad times.
It's not about the good times.
It's about all the times.
The heartache and the pain.
The kisses in the rain.
There's so much for you to gain
If you don't worry
About your heart getting stained
Val Vik Feb 23
The way raindrops glide
.  with a faint clap of thunder
  .   into coalescence
.        .
.     .
    .    .
   .   .
Haiku # 8
Let us dance and merge into a whole - the reunion of souls
Emma Pratt Feb 3
my cold dead heart was made
absolutely empty
they tell me i can
take a knife to it


it would be,
for me,
to face myself

with my soul
having been stained
inspired by the fragments of Sappho
Man Jan 31
all the people i know
have stained my brain
with their misery and their woe,
don't they know?
i have them too
but i would never shovel them on you
it doesn't seem the right thing to do
when i could give you all love
and give woe the shove
i work it out myself
though there's still pain on the shelf
it's below me, not above
i have pain
because all i give is love
Grey Nov 2020
Sixty red balloons
Seeping air through barely-patched holes
Falling from the sky.
Inspired by 99 Luftballons by Nena (99 Red Balloons is the English version).
Zack Ripley Sep 2020
Red cheeks.
Flaming heart.
Soul stains and rusts
As it's consumed by lust.
But not for you.
Payal Dhiman Jul 2020
Water stained glass windows
Tear stained pillows
Heart spilling blood staining my brain
I feel so cold
This air is stained
Stained with the smell of you.
someone once told me

-long before when i used to play music so loud
so loud to help keep the whispers at bay
      the monsters hidden within
            the unanswered questions, doubts, unanswered,

that to be able to appreciate music,
lower the volume, take it in, softly, gently, and
hear it calmly.

but then,
        the whispers
            the monsters
                the unanswered questions

 ­  are louder, s c r EA mIng,
                   loud, louder than

     the heartb e a t,
       dum, dumdum, dum.....
                    too soft.... too..

i wanted to, but i can't hear the soft music in the screaming of what's within.
Dream Fisher Jul 2020
Don't my words look good on paper,
Dripping from the warmth of conviction
Trailing honestly leading you along.
Spreading like ink blots doctors use
To show how sinisterly I am wrong.
Keep growing, smearing onto your hands
At long last, you look back at a page
Coming to see, it's only ink.
The story disappears within
Like a cave, not visible how far it goes,
How far it goes and how deep you're in.

If it's all the same, in darkness,
No one notices how far they drop.
A year can pass in seconds
Losing a second of eternity without the clocks.
Catching yourself from spinning, dizzy,
When the ride abruptly stops.
You can never get back on,
The entrance looks all boarded up,
The lights all shut off.

But don't I look good on paper,
Illegible scrawling no one read.
Before the ink took over,
They'll wonder what it said.
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