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We're just paintings
on a plaster wall,
where chips fall
to the linoleum floor,

where we sweep aside
the love and the loss,
our prayers that we cuss
when we have nothing more.

Our exhibit is open
to the ****** and the wicked
and all the good and the naked;
those who blindly trust.

Our love chips off
but we are fine with that
for we never look back
pretending to say, "we must."

In years, maybe
when we're fading and old;
ripped off the frame,fold,
when we're hastily stashed away —

If we were humans,
who could move, love, kneel
kiss and frame, and steal,
please ask me: "would you stay?"

And, yes.
Yes, I would, anyway.
chi Feb 24
Please be patient with me, I spend most of my day swimming in the ocean of my thoughts.
Please be patient with me, sometimes I'm too scared to speak up but there are days where I speak too much.
I always loved too much and received a little, I got used to being treated like ****.
I do not know what I deserve so please be patient with me.
I cry over the slightest inconvenience but there are days when I cover it up with a smile.
Please be patient with me, a lot of days I breathe because you exist.
I'm a mess, like a sudden drought, but this mess loves you without a single doubt.
so when times get tough and you realize it's hard to love me, just remember, please be patient with me.
can you be patient with the me?
Zack Ripley Feb 22
If you want the world
to know who you are,
YOU have to know who you are first.
What you stand for.
What you want to say.
Because one day, they may listen.
But you never know how long they'll stay.
If I tell you, my muse,
how I long for your presence
amid the desert in the crack of dawn —
would you saunter by and stay
until these wounds be in silence
and covered by your unpredictable peace,
will you stay?

My muse, when I write you, no name
no shade, no face — a beauty with only
a mere part of your body in a physical dimension
of my story, with you here, I feel
the sense of belonging
the unknown familiarity,
take a plunge, face the mirror —
I am there, I am there.

You were born in May,
in full moon by the seaside.
You were crying melodies
and the current flow of the waves,
carried you to me, in reality, in dream,
in song, while your face
soft and maiden for what I saw in your eyes.

The past, the future,
how you brought comfort —
while my book stays there, in draft,
in awe of you, my muse.

This is how I celebrate the month of May,
where are you muse?
come and take a look in your creator —
I am here, I am here.
Wrote this for my muse! Hope you'd give this love since it's hearts' day! Bless your pen now and keep writing, writers!
Owen Feb 14
It seems inevitable
that I break my own heart again
and again.
Each time it comes
for long sad smiles,
and embaces
Yet time and the world
are the stronger
and we fall apart.
And every touch lingers
upon my skin in memory.
Leaving only ever gets harder,
and I yearn to be free.
Tea Feb 10
Death calls to me from time to time
Sometimes, I even slip on its slime
It reminds me of the stinging shards in my heart
It reminds me of how close it and I are apart
Softly, it whispers in my ears at night
“Only I can help you take flight
In this life, you go up this mountain every time
Just to fall down, that won’t happen with my slime
Every night, you cry yourself to sleep
Hiding your true feelings, oh so deep
If you call this life, how can I be any worse?
If you accept me, I can give you rest
Don’t you also think this is for the best?”
Then, I sit still and listen to its reasoning
But then I answer, after listening and thinking.
“Death, I climb this mountain because I must
When I fall down, it does wound my heart’s crust
But more than anything, I learn
With every loss, I earn
With every tear, at night
There is another bright light
For every time I hide
I find a better place to abide
If you are silence, peace, and rest
Life is adventure, which I like the best
So please stop knocking on my door
Stop pushing me to the floor
Because I will not let you in
I will get up after you think you win
As long as I breathe
I am not going to leave.
The prompt I had for this poem was: "If this is life, how can death be any worse?"
snotty Feb 4
i'll bring myself to breathe again
clear the cobwebs from my lungs
rack my ribcage loose of its collected dust;
oil my joints and tighten the loose screws.
and i am going to cough,
i am going to **** and stutter, but
i think it's time to live once more.
something hopeful
I am trapped within this reverie of revived memories; of when you were by my side.

The warmth of dawn feels as though a cruel, albeit gentle lie. My Sun...set, tis that day, when you left me with why.


Why... couldn't I make you stay? Why does everything I grasp tightly... still slip away?
These thoughts of you from a cage, that keep all logic and reason, within gaze; though beyond embrace.
I took care to leave my heart home
I came over to your place
Stuffed with naive harmless thoughts
Were soon to be replaced

Your mind focused on one thing
You didn't let it show
You were a perfect gentleman
Letting tension grow

I bit lip with nervous teeth
You let me play song after song
Waited hours to make a move
Wondered what took you so long

I took care to leave emotions behind
Set on resisting temptation
Soon as we found ourselves alone together
Couldn't stop at just flirtation

You said
"No harm in cuddling"
I cannot put the blame on you
I am the one who nodded in agreement
Put arms around your body too

My poor senses never stood a chance
Never saw our collision coming
Forgot to release frustration prior
To seduction ended up succumbing

My mouth missed texture of flesh
Salty taste of skin
Had no idea how sweet the rush would be
Intoxicating adrenaline

It has been several months with no pleasure
Physical or otherwise
Out of the blue you appear
Was not ready for that surprise

Now you keep entering my skull
Throughout the day
Took care to leave my feelings at my house
Lust refused to stay
Sometimes its necessary to have that physical connection with someone even if you know it won't lead anywhere
JDK Jan 13
Some people are so egocentric
that you have to knock them down a peg or two before they'll be your friend.
Humble the vain for friends that stain*
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