#lonelyheart - Hello Poetry

I am a drop of water from an empty tap – the waters split in two by Moses’ staff; a skeletal thing surviving somehow – a chaff of my own skin, painting over the scars of every other part of my being. Sometimes so cold, paralyzed – masked over time, heart sanitised… a pandemic; to outdated for _mjolo_ to love solo, but for it all to feel so low. Because ultimately what I give is all I hope will return in full back to me; still it all returns partly, where the ocean remembers your tears, the deeper you sink… __this must be my Brink.__

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Oct 21, 2025

Oct 21, 2025 at 5:18 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

The Brink

I am a drop of water from an empty tap – the waters split in two by Moses’ staff; a skeletal thing surviving somehow – a chaff of my own skin, painting over the scars of every other part of my being. Sometimes so cold, paralyzed – masked over time, heart sanitised… a pandemic; to outdated for _mjolo_ to love solo, but for it all to feel so low. Because ultimately what I give is all I hope will return in full back to me; still it all returns partly, where the ocean remembers your tears, the deeper you sink… __this must be my Brink.__

14

Anxiety, do you think you love me? Oh mind, do you want to be my friend? A lonely stone in the full quarry No chance that it will begin to swim Shadow girl, with your many faces With every ash you take to sin Big voiced tropes steady unfolded A fear to never tell again

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Aug 7, 2025

Aug 7, 2025 at 9:17 AM UTC

BeezeesPoetree

Quarry of the Mind

Anxiety, do you think you love me? Oh mind, do you want to be my friend? A lonely stone in the full quarry No chance that it will begin to swim Shadow girl, with your many faces With every ash you take to sin Big voiced tropes steady unfolded A fear to never tell again

8

I am the lonely portrait— a relic of forgotten frames, paused mid-stroke, as if the brush lost faith in its worth My skin is painted by many words; learning how to be tough, taking down note by hesitant note— while the music always plays in a minor key, an echo with no crescendo, a verse that never becomes a chorus. I speak in shadows— duelling the lovely dark that dresses itself as company. It moves like an earthquake beneath ribs, quiet until it’s catastrophic, gentle until it crumbles; paramount and omnipotent. My tears are potent, but never that important – imported; as they arrive like a contraband emotion, smuggled in through brief touches, but never held long enough to feel like home. No comfort in the snuggle, only a struggle for the struggle — I carry a thousand reflections, yet none are my own. And still, I try—stroke by trembling stroke— to repaint my worth without a muse, without applause, just silence and canvas and longing. I am the painter’s sad poem— unfinished, unframed; hanging quietly in a gallery no one walks through anymore.

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May 29, 2025

May 29, 2025 at 5:20 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

The Gallery No One Walks Through

I am the lonely portrait— a relic of forgotten frames, paused mid-stroke, as if the brush lost faith in its worth My skin is painted by many words; learning how to be tough, taking down note by hesitant note— while the music always plays in a minor key, an echo with no crescendo, a verse that never becomes a chorus. I speak in shadows— duelling the lovely dark that dresses itself as company. It moves like an earthquake beneath ribs, quiet until it’s catastrophic, gentle until it crumbles; paramount and omnipotent. My tears are potent, but never that important – imported; as they arrive like a contraband emotion, smuggled in through brief touches, but never held long enough to feel like home. No comfort in the snuggle, only a struggle for the struggle — I carry a thousand reflections, yet none are my own. And still, I try—stroke by trembling stroke— to repaint my worth without a muse, without applause, just silence and canvas and longing. I am the painter’s sad poem— unfinished, unframed; hanging quietly in a gallery no one walks through anymore.

19

I wrote thousands of arcs in my mind about how we would meet and fall for each other. Yet none of them came true. Maybe I should have wished for one of those arcs from the treasure trove in my mind to come true—when that comet passed by earlier.

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May 4, 2025

May 4, 2025 at 9:08 PM UTC

umar-farooq

Dreams and Love

I wrote thousands of arcs in my mind about how we would meet and fall for each other. Yet none of them came true. Maybe I should have wished for one of those arcs from the treasure trove in my mind to come true—when that comet passed by earlier.

1

You’re so naive, so hopeless Thinking everyone is the same Thinking everyone will care You’re so stupid, so gullible You think they won’t forget You think they will always remember you Even when you’re not around But you’re wrong They’re not When you alone, you remember them When you busy, you miss them When they around, you cherish them When they busy, they forget you When you around, they ditch you When they together, they make you feel alone You slips away, they didn’t notice They slips away, you’re restless You try to reach, they didn’t assume They try to reach, you’re ecstatic Clearly, even the blind know you’re left one-sided The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart You put up a smirk and be unbreakable The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart You put up a smile and be unaffected The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart

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Nov 21, 2018

Nov 21, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC

andhizky

The Lonely Heart

You’re so naive, so hopeless Thinking everyone is the same Thinking everyone will care You’re so stupid, so gullible You think they won’t forget You think they will always remember you Even when you’re not around But you’re wrong They’re not When you alone, you remember them When you busy, you miss them When they around, you cherish them When they busy, they forget you When you around, they ditch you When they together, they make you feel alone You slips away, they didn’t notice They slips away, you’re restless You try to reach, they didn’t assume They try to reach, you’re ecstatic Clearly, even the blind know you’re left one-sided The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart You put up a smirk and be unbreakable The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart You put up a smile and be unaffected The lonely heart, you just a lonely heart

25

What does the good heart ask Who are still remain to compete When a disease remains un defeat Where on deathbed at the feet Will I waste my last words so sweet Why "Do you see, I won? "

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Jun 6, 2018

Jun 6, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC

nawke

Decathect

What does the good heart ask Who are still remain to compete When a disease remains un defeat Where on deathbed at the feet Will I waste my last words so sweet Why "Do you see, I won? "

6