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leeaaun Jan 2019
Our love story
is written
with blood,
that's why
it hurts.
fatxma Jan 2019
am·ne·sia here to stay
am·ne·sia wont go away
A broken glass i don't remember
A broken heart full of fear
A work place with a hammer
am·ne·sia wont go away
Was i born on a tree?
A bee with clear honey i see
am·ne·sia  here to stay
Will time break it away
Will time set me free
Oh! am·ne·sia you treated me with misery
am·ne·sia a look of agony
am·ne·sia so plain
tbh i try really hard to write poems this is from my head
but weird fact  about me is that i can write good poems when i'm in a bad mood only.
leeaaun Jan 2019
And i had choose you;
in a hundred lifetimes,
in thousands galaxies,
No matter, which
fairytale will be
written for me in
my destiny.
I will choose the path
that lead me towards
our fairytale.
Like our old one.
Brynn S Nov 2018
Words shift
They dissolve
Melting onto pages
Sinking into skin
Each piece faded
Never to return
All memories lost
None to return
Lynnia Oct 2018
a life in words,
the edges blurred
sync what you’ve read
with what you’ve heard

though limbs may tire
and mouth’s a liar
the dancing pen
is still on fire

in the Real,
tongue can’t reveal
just what the heart
is prone to feel

yet the ink-stained mirror
makes truth appear
and sets free the doubt
the mind so fears
Bobby Dodds Oct 2018
people have written about everything,
nothing has been left to be found.
I've tried to find what wasn't leftover,
but it's gone.

there's been poet's and scribes,
prophets and writs;
but they're gone,
for now.
until another one reincarnates.
again.

love is nothing new to us.
and war never changes too.
but what we write is just rhetoric,
maybe that is too.

what's written makes no sense.
but there's no more writing to be found.
weirdly how I'm writing,
what should've seemed so profound.
we've reached everything, but haven't found the end.
is writing just a super-task of infinitesimally unfinished words. or do you have to furnish all the poems with fancy oak and gold
D Oct 2018
I once knew this boy
who would walk miles and miles
just to understand
the reason she'd smile.

She thought long and hard
about being his girl,
but decided that he
just wasn't made for her world.
Irene J Sep 2018
At the beginning it was nothing,
it meant nothing.
it was just a cold look,
from a man, who doesn't seem to like me.

But as time goes by,
I've learned,
it was more than a look.
there was something written in his eyes,
as I look deeper into his dark brown iris,
it was something he can never say,
but only he can feel.

But I saw it and he saw mine.
We never talk,
we just look at each other,
and just knew it what we meant for each other.
and it felt real.

even I have to stand far across him to see,
while he's in the arm of someone else.
well, this base on something I experience recently. So it kinda heartbreaking.
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