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Shelly Mar 14
With in my heart lays a book

A book of our unfinished story

Our love story written within the stars

But the winds never came to turn our pages

We hid our love for others

Never allowed ourselves our desires

Only to lose you to another

Unconnected bridge of unspoken words

The author never wrote our ending

I will not let go of our unfinished love story

So wait for me in our next life

We will write our love story amongst the stars

As we turn our pages

Losing ourselves in our love and passion

Connecting our souls as destined

Our unfinished love story has an ending

-Shelly Ramos
Sam S Mar 8
You know that feeling?
The weight of words unsaid,
of pages paused mid-sentence,
of stories that never found their end.

We left the ink to settle,
the lines still carved in quiet space.
Not erased, not spoken—
just waiting in the in-between.

You swore the tide never pulled you in,
that the fire never warmed your skin.
Yet echoes stay, they don’t erase—
some truths remain, though left unnamed.

Some moments slip like sand,
some ghosts refuse to fade.
And silence, though it speaks in whispers,
still knows the words we never said.
Zoe G Feb 13
Could not thou have claimed me, too
When with intent you came.
Took her soul and off you flew
And left I ne’er the same.
An unfinished poem I wrote to incorporate in a story I was writing at the time. Maybe I'll come back to it one day.
showyoulove Feb 7
Come sit with me by the fire
Take in the glow and warmth
The lights are low and the night is young
Time for a chat, a look back
The mood is fine and all is divine
Sit back, relax, and ease your mind
Let's pause and now rewind the time
To replay the moments: highs and lows
Looking at some decisions you chose

Come sit with me for a little while
Come close and let me hold you child
The storm outside is full of fury and sound
But in here you are on safe solid ground

Come sit with me for a moment or two
In this space, it's just me and you
Let me tell you a story from many years ago
A tale of love and honor suffering and glory
But there is something else you must know
It is as yet unfinished even to this day
Still, it remains the Life, the Truth, the Way

It begins at the beginning the first husband and wife
Everything was perfect and they knew no strife
They walked freely with God in complete honesty
And all the world was blessed in perfect harmony
Possibly unfinished with room for more, but this was all I had written at the time
Can we ever be friends?
Or is our weird collection
Of unfinished business
Far beyond repair?
Could a thing so broken somehow work?
SRS Jan 14
Maybe today is not a good day
Still tomorrow won’t be better anyway
No, do I text you again in a month?
But you have that thing on the tenth
A year from now?
You will have something somehow
I was just hoping to talk to you
I wasn’t going to argue
So, do I just wait?
Or, If I said I was tired of waiting
Am I crossing a line?
And If I said I had to stop chasing
Will our friendship decline?
I miss my best friend, but I can't keep waiting. I am aware that if I indulge in the same pattern I will fall into the same state of mind again and it's not healthy. So, I have decided to bring up the subject of their infrequent communication and hopefully put an end to the problem for good.
Half-chuckles flourishing in the night time scene
Slow deep breathes connect us
Staring into the darkened sky
We waited


I had a really great moment that I wanted to turn into a poem, but I just can’t finish it. I don’t know how to. Frankly I don’t know what we waited for..
Just waiting.
I wish for someone to take what I started and finish it
While I wait for something to come to mind
And I may finish it myself
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
In the tender years of my youth, at the age of sixteen, my prayers
soared high, burdened by doubts and fears, I yearned to remain
unseen - I recall the torrents of tears that cascaded when I was
merely ten, for it was in those fleeting moments that I unearthed
my strength within.  

I envisioned a future self, brimming with wisdom by twenty-one,  
a life meticulously charted, a race already won; I dreamt vividly of
a wedding by the age of twenty-three - as a spectacle to impress my
brothers, who loomed like giants to me.  

Once, the shadows were a terror from which I would swiftly flee,  
now they serve as a sanctuary where I sometimes crave to be free.  
I once believed friendship was a vast, bustling expanse, yet I find
solace in the few friendships, where I can truly take a chance.  

And my life remains still unfinished, unfinished as this poem…
unadored Jun 2022
Encased, as an oil painting,
behind a plane of glass.
Years of exposure dulling the canvas,
no funding to restore the brightness
of the subject's lifeless eyes.
They lay dormant, cloudy,
From a lifetime of accumulative debris.
Transferred between people, buildings, countries;
Memories on display for brief intervals,
Then packaged and returned to storage,
As if they were never your own.
People shift, distorted, beyond the coffin of glass.
Their movements hazy,
The shutter speed slow.
Colours muted,
Sounds muffled,
Melting into each other.
An abstract watercolour, waxing and waning.
Low resolution projections on a dimly lit screen -
A theatre seating but one.
catharsis in tying emotions to words.
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