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Haley Lana Mar 30
You find me.
In the church bells of a Hozier song,
the sheets that without you feel wrong,
you bind me.
.
You remind me,
of our sunny morning walks,
of our silly grinning talks,
when you find me.
.
You touch every thought,
my eternal leitmotif;
no such battle fought
as with you, my heart-thief.
.
And I want to write words,
tell you how strongly I yearn,
but my mind sees absurds:
so each letter I burn.
.
And I'm terrified, paralyzed with fear;
I dread your heart will cool,
that you won't love me, my dear -
that I've been but a fool.
.
Chasing dreams, all in vain,
as I wonder who warms your bed;
So far away, across the pain,
racing terrors in my head.
.
An ocean between us, worlds apart,
I crave desperately for your embrace.
Yet still I'm silent, intrepid heart -
a grave of sorrow, sans your grace.
.
26.3.2024.
(for G.)
selina Feb 28
i sit and watch you and wait like a dog
always just two steps behind you and
always just begging you for scraps

as if two seconds of your attention
would be enough to fill my empty, empty stomach
as if two mere seconds would ever be enough

but you can't even give that-
my friends say i'm too nice and you just call out my name
and when i see that familiar self-satisfied smile on your face

i just become a bad liar and i just look the other way
and i go back to pretending like your bare minimum
is enough to fix my bellyache
live love dog poems
selina Feb 28
to love me like how you love your
cheap hmart wine, to sentimentally sip
at me until you are tipsy and having a
good time; and if i have nothing more to
give, set my empty self on a distant shelf—
forever is a paradise, even if to only ever
hear your laughter from the sidelines
live love wine metaphors/similes
selina Feb 28
there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?
been a minute since i've updated this profile wow!
Alaska Feb 26
"You're mine, you!" whispers in the back of the room. A subtle reminder that I don't think you'll ever leave. You're weird. You're broken. You're everything I am. You're everything I could never be.

When my Dad asks me about my day, or lays out plates like I'm still a little kid. I dream about dull days. Those stupid ruts we couldn't shake. You're mine, you.

It's just the flickering lights. Not your eyes. Not the bitter taste of your white tongue. My ****** gums. The ache of waiting. Of running but never making it. Always looking for the silver lining of your glasses on my nightstand. My crooked nose. Gentle reminders that you'll never leave. Warm and carmine reminders that you will never leave.

My heart should be well-schooled. Because you know I've been fooled in the past. But it's always beating just too late for love to last. "Your hair looks like champagne under this lamp." Do you remember how hard that made you laugh?

That one night we cracked the window, just to let the smoke fly out. I remember thinking "it'll go further than we ever will." As the trumpets began to sing, your bony little fingers started reaching at the stars. It's funny it's not the stars I see, it's always you.

But we'll carry on. We'll carry on. After all, I know there could never be another you.
is not wanting to lose you
            really all that wrong?

is wanting to be by yourside
              really such a crime?

is waiting to see you every night
            really that bad?

i dont need you to breathe at night,
    but your scent makes the nightmares
        alright.

i dont need you to have a good day,
      but your smile makes a cloudy day
          cozy and warm.

i dont need your hand in mine,
     but it does make the walk
            easier and bright.

i dont need you.
        you dont need me.
           cant we be together
                 and let love be kind?

two hands we have,
      one for each other,
              one for the rest of life.

is loving you through it all
       a pressuring act?

is wanting the same
            just the delusional way?

do
    we
         not
              deserve
                            a
                            second
                                       chance
                                               at
                                                 light
                                                        in
                                                           this
                                                                 dark?
i am responsable for the sins
             of my past.
of the pain i've caused,
           of the heartbreak i've brought.

                 i am aware of all my wrongs.

i no longer think of myself as a victim,
                     nor a martyr,
                       nor the image of injustice,
             nor am i undeserving of what
                     has happened to me.

i've seen my mistakes,
        i've seen my failures,
               i've seen where i'm lacking,
and i own up to it.

      i've wronged and been wronged.
such is life.

i see myself no longer as weak,
         powerless,
              defenseless,
                  innocent,­
                        or broken.

life has brought me here
       where i have guided it.

i am responsable for the sins
             of my past.
of the pain i've caused,
           of the heartbreak i've brought.

                 i am aware of all my wrongs.

but...
    
                                  does that mean
                                my wrongs should go
                                       unforgiven?

                                           or that i                
                                      deserve
 ­                                              to be
                                                  alone?
Eslam Dabank Jan 10
Forcefully, feed me this love.

No. No need to ask about my consent,
my mood,
whether I'm fine with tasting this reconnection,
whether I desire my suffering to be sweet,
salty, bitter, repulsive;
It is the love that no lover is fed into by choice.

So, ravage my core with your cruelty,
I am content; fleeing holds no allure;
Rip into my bone cage until rats seek refuge within;
until they are disheartened by rain seeping through;
Like was I.

The patient is not faulted for their ailment,
even if they induce it intentionally,
and even then, it is understandable;
For this love acts as both affliction and antidote.

It is a certain drowning, Tick Tock;
I repel rescue; no one need attempt it now;
In the days to come, no one shall be blamed for this choice.

Take me eastward until we reach the west;
There, the sun feels icy;
the breeze, refreshing;
Transport me far beyond the confines of yearning,
The confusion of longing;
Let me encounter your childhood, your aged self, and youth;
Let my wrinkles serve as your rollercoaster;
I'll bear your weight as you frolic;
And there you are; simply laughing.

Incinerate, burn, lose all our maps;
so thoughts of return dare not surface;
until regret looms, yet repentance remains elusive.

We're distanced;
and in this, lies a joy hidden from the eyes of owls;
Beyond the raucous cawing of crows;

Say that I snore;
then depart,
And leave me to harvest wheat from those hills.
Living from the longing
In your heart
Is something learned
It takes practice
It's sweet
It's innocent

Can I do it?
I don't know.
My longing
Is to know this
Feeling
Vs sadness or depression.
Coping with a yearning but learning to live from it instead
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