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josef 7h
i dream of
running my hands through
his black curls
but his heart is obsidian
and i am an iron pickaxe
Kortu 19h
Help me smother these chaotic sparks
you’ve fed, fuelled and let grow
whilst gasping for air, my bleeding heart
submits quietly to your soul.
29.05.2025.
josef 1d
though i may want you
i don't want to hold your hand
backtrack any thoughts or words
written with you in mind
regret devoting so much
time and energy to study your features
or wondering whether you can end up
making the mistake of being with me
josef 2d
a slurry of fire and magma can’t escape
through the crust, being stopped by a
thin layer of earth, unable to express
itself, to wreak havoc upon the earth.

it’s passion is bottled up, its fear is contained,
his fury is sealed, saved for another day
when it can express its emotion.
but now, the crust encases it like a weighted blanket
Aaamour 2d
I see her in school some times
no lipstick, no fancy clothes
even in these boring uniforms
dim lit lights and stressed minds

her face shines
like the necklace she always wears
her presence
brings warmth like class’s fav teacher

when I hear her laughs
the school turns into an orchestra
I go to school everyday
not because I study well
just to see her
to get lost in her eyes one last time

outside the chauffeur waits for her
while I run behind the bus
heard that she has traveled the world
while I struggle to visit a nearby hill

she’ll never love me
I won’t stop loving her till I die

when I’ll have enough money
I’ll buy not some luxury gifts
but a bouquet of flowers and a book

As it’s because of her
I write
I feel love
I want to live
Sophie 4d
A prisoner’s home in my lungs,
combinations of words
I never dare imagine to speak.
The fantasy often entertains me.
I resist to entertain the fantasy,
yet my heart picks up pace
trying to get in touch with you.
I told her, I am nothing in your heart!
Couldn’t comprehend,
as you are essential to her functioning,
in a higher line than oxygen, nutrients, blood.
Ricardo Diaz Jun 2
Once I loved a flower so much
that instead of picking it,
I left it alone.

My eyes refused to watch her leave
So my tears came to blur my vision

How am I supposed to act like I don't care,
Like you didn't just leave a hole I'm my chest.

This sinking feeling that I'll never see you again
A stranger turned to a lover and back to a stranger

Your name still echoes in the sounds of June
Like an unfinished song under the moon

We laugh like lovers, touch like the breeze
And call it friendship, just to keep the peace

In the story of my life, you're the sweetest line
With a bond like ours, even time couldn't redefine.

And so ...
I write you in poems you'll never read
Loving you softly, with a heart that bleeds.
Junubia
Emery Feine May 27
Will you ever let me love you?
My angel arrow, my fire fuel
Will you ever love me?
Was I such a fool?

You look into my eyes
You see a blinding light
I look into your eyes
I see a pitch-black night

Unrequited, allocated to your hundreds of friends
Obsessive, impressive; your love just pretends
I wait for this fate that brings you back to me
And I wait almost eternally

You build me up; you bring me down
And you somehow blame it on me?
I've made the door and its lock
And yet you've thrown away the key

But I'm alright, I'm okay
I sit on these steps and wait for you
But I'm obsessive, I'm crazy
And I wish it wasn't over you
silver springs
ProfMoonCake May 26
I shivered, while you sat still—
across the room, laughing,
asking about my day,
buying me flowers.
My eyes would search,
x-ray through clouds,
to find you—
tall and smiling.

I shivered, while you sat still,
as the AC blasted,
lectures of the gods lingered.
I know you felt it too
when I walked away.
Lucky us—
distance bought fondness.

I shivered, while you sat still,
talking about our lives,
holding me through the night,
smiling at the sky,
watching the fireworks die.
It’s okay.
It might work out again.
The eleventh time is the charm.

I shivered, while you sat still,
next to your wife,
smiling—
and I finally froze.
ash May 25
quite a few severe misconceptions
hey! seriously, that's how you can summarize my life for me!
beyond the glitter, the actual bones of the beast
ugly, somehow disgusting, but they make me up, me.

i sometimes wonder, if i could be poetry
perhaps? – actually we'll scratch that.
i will be overlooked, as this usually is.
will you still write me?

no, i don't want you to write to me
or write on me – though i wouldn't mind
if i could carry it everywhere i'm ought to be.
but still –
write me. write about me.
all that i am, all that i could ever be.

there's multiple, many – oh god, a vast multitude
that i wish to talk about to any.
literally, whoever bothers to listen – and to see.
well, mainly to see, to not go over just once
and simply forget me.

i feel like – i might be a pathological liar
and a people pleaser.
but is it too wrong? wanting to be seen?
and not just as a trophy you can bag anytime,
or a passing moment, when life has you bored in its rhyme,
or even worse – someone just for the pleasure.

will you notice me?
heed to my voice and all that resides within me?
you know what. i think this was enough of 'me'.

the "almost" kind of hurts, you know.
it's always been just that.
at least for me, that's where my clock stops.
i hear about how you like me,
hear about how you want to try it out on me –
why is it always, "the almost of us"
with you & i and i & them?
why does it always have to end?
(even before it has began)

perhaps i indeed am that one tale,
kind of like the midnight rain.
they say they do cherish my existence –
but they never stay up, at least in most cases,
or bother to listen.

i can't focus, or give you my all –
i know that's a flaw at my side.
one that i wish i didn't have to follow like a rule,
settled in the hymns of my body and my life.

this, to the "almost of us" –
why do you always just... give up?
leaving me halfway,
like i'm not even worth the wait.
never did you want to know, maybe,
what really lies at the end of this race.
(will you regret, if i were to say, there weren't a lot of opponents for you to go against, per se?)

being wanted is what i've required –
to be asked for, to be known,
to be understood, not to be shown.
i hear about it in the books
and in the movies and different tales of the hues
of others’ vastly nerving stories –

how when someone likes you,
it lights up this part of you
that almost resembles the feeling of being desired – finally!

contrast is jarring though.
i see you, realize – wow, you see me too?
and yet almost always –
almost wanted, almost pursued, almost something.
and then a beautifully cherished, salty little nothing.

am i really not enough?
or did i do something wrong?
i did pay heed to your existence
even though i might have missed my own.

the unspoken loss –
one that i didn't require.

you know it hollowed me out a bit.
oh, who am i kidding –
it took all of me from me.
maybe you too liked the idea of me,
and not who’s real.
i know it is kinda messy.
at least that's how it's always been with me.

i have always had a habit
to press on those tiny little bruises –
so soft in nature, hurt a bit.
just always the right way, they hit.

i didn't even ask for you or them.
and yet –
the way you fumbled
and had me finding the sweet little nothings.

sigh, i guess i'll just admit
i want to be chosen.
there. the truth out for the world to see.
(i'll hide it to my death and never let you close to me)

i wish you'd pursued me with intention –
and not always the almost trying
only to give up before the trying even came close.
it left me crying, you know.

it's always – the spark that they leave.
never enough to light up a fire.
and then they find flaws within me.
why am i attacked, i wonder?

all i wanted was some real connection.
what of it when i scream
for all those who hear –
you have no right to drop bread crumbs
and leave me to clean them up.
i won't, as i never have.
but please, just once – notice me.
and don't treat me like an ant
like you did to others whom you've had.

everything's worth trying,
one way or the other.
everything's got a fruit waiting –
if you're willing to not just give up.

i ain't just shallow –
feel too deep.
trust me, this isn't something i've wanted.
yet you leave me with the same question,
as they always do –
why am i the one hurting,
when i didn't even ask for anything, or specifically you?

sometimes i'm afraid –
what if i'm being the particular "pick me"?
but i promise to never show vulnerabilities,
even though i speak a lot.

you might call me arrogant,
but all i've done is exist
and ask for something in return –
to cover all that i am,
all behind the makeup on the bruises of my existence.

too much, too cold, too confusing –
i ain't any of those.
but i wonder if i'm worth choosing.

some say i'm that poem
someone doesn't know they remembered
and made memories with until it's too late.

is it too petty of me
to give you such chances and options
again and again?

what's hard to digest though –
is here, the truth written in the blood of my pain,
and all the cuts that you've given me to aid.

they will forever look at me in a particular way –
and half of them who heed to me,
it'll be because they require the things
they need from the kind of me.

never has anyone asked me the questions
i wanted them to ask –
like things that shaped me,
or the ones i liked truly.

the ones i'd love, to be honest,
if it's with someone who stays.
i'd want to be with them throughout
and share those little eye contacts and loving stares.

i need depth.
want to be asked, not just seen.
maybe again, i'm asking for too much.
please forgive me.

i wore the sun for you –
yet you chose the rain.
the same rain i used to be,
but it was one during the day
and not the midnights like i usually erupted.

too much for you to handle.
i wish you'd accepted.
needed no spotlight – just some care.
someone to notice, someone to lend a shoulder.

yet left behind, almost always.
but what can i even say
when it's always been – "the almost of us."

i'll withdraw in silence,
just to be looked at the same way as any other.

might be complex, chaotic – miserly at times,
what if you indeed realize
i'm just barely anything, not even like any other?

is there any place anywhere
where i can fit –
where i belong the most?
perhaps not, perhaps the answer's a never
but i wish you'd loved and chosen me – at least once
just so for once i could feel something
other than just always being the ghost.
write me a book on myself, will you? understand, listen, see- and i'm all yours.
pretty low standards?
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