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Mark Toney Mar 7
wasting well water wishes
while in wastewater wading
waiting waist-high wailing
weeping, wailing—
what a waste!

wasting well water wishes
while we're waxing waning
waning waxing waging
waging, wasting—
wherewithal!

wanting well water wishes
while whole world wishing
wasting wishing wanting
wanting wishing—
whole wide world!

welcome well water wishes
while we're wakeful watching
wakeful watchmen warning
warning watching—
wonderful!

whew!!

Mark Toney © 2022
Poetry form: Alliteration - Mark Toney © 2022
I wish I can find you a cure,
To heal everything I done wrong to you.
I wish I can give much more,
Knowing my love has always been so true.
I miss the way you used to laugh,
Knowing I’m here to always hold you strong.
Alas, what left of me is staph…
Burning needles under my skin and wrong.
It’s not your fault of me falling,
All done to myself a long time ago.
The bugs aren’t in me yet crawling,
My chemical romance you’ll never know.
So what of the days to all shine,
My heart blackened and praised a shrine?
Gabrielle Nov 2021
I wish my sad was cool
I wish my sad was a day drinker
Glitter covered
Beautiful, dried tears crumbling off her cheek
Misty skinned at some glorious dark hour of the morning.

I wish my sad was heartbreaking
Others staring into a globe of poorly hidden injuries
Looking over my bare shoulders to see the balding on my nape.

Instead my sad is a creaking house at night
An unseen **** growing under the boardwalk

I turn my sadness over in my mind
Like I fold my clean washing

I hope one day my sad means more to me.
This poem is about feeling like your emotions are not valid or significant.
Erian Rose Nov 2021
mid-afternoon sunrays beam
against the blanketed city snow,
your miles away this December
wishing on the same falling stars.

Saturday trains murmur dusk-cascaded gleam
you're across the Atlantic shore
seasonal depression combating
last-second windswept bliss

unfinished song-writes seem
inkless on half-folded paper airplanes
for hidden chances and empty truths
lone twilight in streetlights mold
Troy Oct 2021
Thoughts spiraling
Causing tears to fall
Does he want me
Or is it all a facade

Little to no communication
Rarely seeing each other
Hiding things I give him
Spending more time with her than me

These actions speak volumes
And it causes me to wonder
Does he even love me
Does he even want me

Everyday I fight against these thoughts
But the longer this goes on
The more I feel it to be true
And the more heartbroken I become

I’m starting to question
If I should build up walls
Block off my heart again
So it doesn’t hurt as much

But no matter what I do
I can’t seem to shake these thoughts
Thoughts of pain and torture
Wishing for someone to shine a light

I swore to myself
I would never be in this spot again
But here I am again
Prepared to have my heart trampled

I’m honestly ready to snap
Needing to talk with him
But it has to be in person
Because I honestly fear his answer

It will be so much easier
To seal myself away
While he’s standing there in front of me
Than if it were over call or text

I can hide my pain
Not let myself collapse
If what I honestly fear
Is the actual truth

My feelings are never wrong
Which just makes matters worse
I lay there and cry
On countless days and nights

Hoping that he’ll talk to me
Hoping it’s not true
Hoping that he loves me
Hoping he chooses me

Because if this continues
The way it’s going
I will end up losing
My will to even try
Oskar Erikson Sep 2021
I read from my seventh gay YA novel of the year as the central line whirls by my skull
scraping away the buried sensations
looking across the pockmarked platform
to year 8
the boy who I kissed in secret in the changing rooms
suddenly looked like death on the school pitch
since the passes were now higher harder and tackles less friendly
without words exchanging I think maybe then he knew our practice wasn’t something we could repeat
that the risk of pretending to be as much of lover a boy can was too adult too real for lunchtime escapes
maybe then my feet knew his retreating frame in the summer heat was an unconscious betrayal           my heart failing to reach out and soothe his agony when the metal studs flirted with his skin
and he’s looking up at me like a salve like some sort of safe haven leaving him on the astroturf to bleed alone
and in that moment
I reach out across the lines to try to smooth out his face and tell him he will stand
and his smile will make the pain yield
and his hands will hold another boy
and will not be left alone
I pull my hand back to let him rest at last
and the train pulls in.
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