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I always took love as a prison. Bars you don’t see, rules you don’t question, time you serve without knowing the sentence. I just didn’t think I’d be in it alone. Door’s open. That’s the mad part. No guard. No lock. No one stopping me leaving. Still here. Same spot. Same thoughts pacing back and forth like they’ve got nowhere else to go. That’s how it works, ain't it? Not chains, just habits. You get used to it. Get used to the echo of your own voice being the only thing answering back. Get used to filling in silence like it’s your job. Get used to thinking if something’s missing, it must be you. I’ve sat with that long enough for it to sound normal. Like... Maybe I’m just… extra weight. Not in a loud way. Not something anyone says outright. Just that feeling you read between everything. Late replies. Short answers. Energy that don’t quite match yours. You clock it. Start adjusting. Say less. Expect less. Take up less space. Like you’re trying to fit into something that was never built with you in mind. And when it still don’t sit right, you blame yourself. Of course you do. Easier than admitting some things just don’t line up. But the thought creeps in anyway. Quiet. Maybe it’d be easier if you weren’t here like this. Not gone, just… removed from the equation. Like taking your name out of a group chat that don’t really include you. Everything carries on. Cleaner. Simpler. That’s how it tries to sell it. Not dramatic. Just practical. And I’ve sat with that too, long enough to feel it settle, long enough to almost agree. That’s the dangerous bit. How reasonable it can sound when you’re tired. But then I look around, same room, same air, same version of me that’s still here despite it. And I realise, this “prison” ain’t love. It’s what I built around it. All the overthinking, the second-guessing, the way I turn silence into something personal. Walls I kept reinforcing thinking they were protecting me. They weren’t. Just kept me in. And yeah, it still feels like I’m doing time some days. Still catch myself pacing. Still hear those thoughts trying to sound like facts. But the door’s open. Has been. I just never trusted that I was allowed to walk out. Thought I had to earn it. Thought I had to be lighter, easier, less of whatever I think I am. But maybe, maybe it was never about that. Maybe I’m not a burden. Maybe I just stayed too long in places that made me feel like one. That’s harder to admit. But it’s closer to truth. So I’m still here. Not fixed. Not free like that. Just… aware now. And that’s enough to take one step closer to the door.
0
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 6:27 AM UTC
Mahayag
Open Cell
I always took love as a prison. Bars you don’t see, rules you don’t question, time you serve without knowing the sentence. I just didn’t think I’d be in it alone. Door’s open. That’s the mad part. No guard. No lock. No one stopping me leaving. Still here. Same spot. Same thoughts pacing back and forth like they’ve got nowhere else to go. That’s how it works, ain't it? Not chains, just habits. You get used to it. Get used to the echo of your own voice being the only thing answering back. Get used to filling in silence like it’s your job. Get used to thinking if something’s missing, it must be you. I’ve sat with that long enough for it to sound normal. Like... Maybe I’m just… extra weight. Not in a loud way. Not something anyone says outright. Just that feeling you read between everything. Late replies. Short answers. Energy that don’t quite match yours. You clock it. Start adjusting. Say less. Expect less. Take up less space. Like you’re trying to fit into something that was never built with you in mind. And when it still don’t sit right, you blame yourself. Of course you do. Easier than admitting some things just don’t line up. But the thought creeps in anyway. Quiet. Maybe it’d be easier if you weren’t here like this. Not gone, just… removed from the equation. Like taking your name out of a group chat that don’t really include you. Everything carries on. Cleaner. Simpler. That’s how it tries to sell it. Not dramatic. Just practical. And I’ve sat with that too, long enough to feel it settle, long enough to almost agree. That’s the dangerous bit. How reasonable it can sound when you’re tired. But then I look around, same room, same air, same version of me that’s still here despite it. And I realise, this “prison” ain’t love. It’s what I built around it. All the overthinking, the second-guessing, the way I turn silence into something personal. Walls I kept reinforcing thinking they were protecting me. They weren’t. Just kept me in. And yeah, it still feels like I’m doing time some days. Still catch myself pacing. Still hear those thoughts trying to sound like facts. But the door’s open. Has been. I just never trusted that I was allowed to walk out. Thought I had to earn it. Thought I had to be lighter, easier, less of whatever I think I am. But maybe, maybe it was never about that. Maybe I’m not a burden. Maybe I just stayed too long in places that made me feel like one. That’s harder to admit. But it’s closer to truth. So I’m still here. Not fixed. Not free like that. Just… aware now. And that’s enough to take one step closer to the door.
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113
It wasn't a bad day. That’s the problem. Nothing went wrong, nothing went right either. Just… one of those days that stack on top of each other until you stop telling them apart. I got home, same routine, same silence waiting for me like it always does. Keys down. Shoes off. No one asking how it went. No one to answer anyway. I sit there for a bit not doing anything, just letting the room exist around me. And it hits again. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just that same thought slipping in like it belongs, what difference does it make if I’m here? No reaction at first. Just let it sit. Because I’ve heard it before. Different days. Same voice. And I start looking around, nothing’s changed. Same walls. Same air. Same version of me that don’t quite land anywhere properly. Like I exist… but not in a way that shifts anything. People say they care. I hear it. I do. But it don’t always feel like it reaches me. Like it stops just short and I’m left filling in the rest myself. And I try, I try to make sense of it, to not take things personally, to not turn every silence into something it might not be, but I still do. And that’s tiring. The kind of tired that don’t show on your face, just sits behind everything. Makes simple things feel heavy. Makes you question if you’re the common problem in situations that keep repeating. I’ve sat with that thought long enough for it to feel familiar. Like maybe I am just… difficult to hold onto. Maybe I don’t land right with people. Maybe there’s something about me that makes things fade. And once that starts your head don’t help. It builds on it. Stacks it up. Turns a feeling into something that sounds like fact. And I sit there with all of it in my head and nowhere for it to go. No distraction. No noise. Just me and everything I haven’t worked out yet. And for a second, I don’t know what else to do with it. Not fix it. Not understand it. Just… carry it. And I realise, I’ve been carrying it on my own for longer than I admit. That’s what gets to me. Not even the sadness just how quiet it all is. How normal it feels to sit in it and not say anything. And I don’t have some big answer. No clean way to wrap it up. Just this moment where I’m sat here with everything feeling heavier than it should, and the only thing I can think to do is… say something I haven’t said properly in a while - Saint Jude. Patron of difficult cases, of things almost despaired of, pray for me. I am so hopeless and alone. Please pray for me that God come to me in my hour of need, and I receive consolation in all my tribulations and sufferings. And that, I may bless God with the elect for all eternity. Amen.
0
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 4:13 PM UTC
Mahayag
Nothing Left But This.
It wasn't a bad day. That’s the problem. Nothing went wrong, nothing went right either. Just… one of those days that stack on top of each other until you stop telling them apart. I got home, same routine, same silence waiting for me like it always does. Keys down. Shoes off. No one asking how it went. No one to answer anyway. I sit there for a bit not doing anything, just letting the room exist around me. And it hits again. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just that same thought slipping in like it belongs, what difference does it make if I’m here? No reaction at first. Just let it sit. Because I’ve heard it before. Different days. Same voice. And I start looking around, nothing’s changed. Same walls. Same air. Same version of me that don’t quite land anywhere properly. Like I exist… but not in a way that shifts anything. People say they care. I hear it. I do. But it don’t always feel like it reaches me. Like it stops just short and I’m left filling in the rest myself. And I try, I try to make sense of it, to not take things personally, to not turn every silence into something it might not be, but I still do. And that’s tiring. The kind of tired that don’t show on your face, just sits behind everything. Makes simple things feel heavy. Makes you question if you’re the common problem in situations that keep repeating. I’ve sat with that thought long enough for it to feel familiar. Like maybe I am just… difficult to hold onto. Maybe I don’t land right with people. Maybe there’s something about me that makes things fade. And once that starts your head don’t help. It builds on it. Stacks it up. Turns a feeling into something that sounds like fact. And I sit there with all of it in my head and nowhere for it to go. No distraction. No noise. Just me and everything I haven’t worked out yet. And for a second, I don’t know what else to do with it. Not fix it. Not understand it. Just… carry it. And I realise, I’ve been carrying it on my own for longer than I admit. That’s what gets to me. Not even the sadness just how quiet it all is. How normal it feels to sit in it and not say anything. And I don’t have some big answer. No clean way to wrap it up. Just this moment where I’m sat here with everything feeling heavier than it should, and the only thing I can think to do is… say something I haven’t said properly in a while - Saint Jude. Patron of difficult cases, of things almost despaired of, pray for me. I am so hopeless and alone. Please pray for me that God come to me in my hour of need, and I receive consolation in all my tribulations and sufferings. And that, I may bless God with the elect for all eternity. Amen.
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109
Your arms, cute legs, and nice smile – Maybe I’m too late to feel this far, to feel a void, or is it to _fill a void_— I try to avoid, that hits too close. But peel away all the labels from your face, living A little longer in my thoughts before a short-notice; I’ll be the first to notice the role you played in my life. Your skin like a KitKat; so for a sweet time, I’ll break you off a piece of my heart— _that’s a bar._ But some days I’m wrapped up in emotional bars, These hands outstretched, but arms too short To hold every direction your thoughts wander to. But won't you wonder too, how my legs are too thin To outrun all the quiet decades that shaped you— But hey, at least I still carry a nice smile. Sounds so dreadful, visiting for a short time, Catching those fallen stars in your wet eyes — Wearing shorts in winter, so our knees can knock, Two souls knocking too— knees weak; I have seven Reasons to want you right now, though it’s really Been a week, since I last seen your cute smile — _And wish I could keep it for a lifetime._
0
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
Far, Yet Noticeable
Your arms, cute legs, and nice smile – Maybe I’m too late to feel this far, to feel a void, or is it to _fill a void_— I try to avoid, that hits too close. But peel away all the labels from your face, living A little longer in my thoughts before a short-notice; I’ll be the first to notice the role you played in my life. Your skin like a KitKat; so for a sweet time, I’ll break you off a piece of my heart— _that’s a bar._ But some days I’m wrapped up in emotional bars, These hands outstretched, but arms too short To hold every direction your thoughts wander to. But won't you wonder too, how my legs are too thin To outrun all the quiet decades that shaped you— But hey, at least I still carry a nice smile. Sounds so dreadful, visiting for a short time, Catching those fallen stars in your wet eyes — Wearing shorts in winter, so our knees can knock, Two souls knocking too— knees weak; I have seven Reasons to want you right now, though it’s really Been a week, since I last seen your cute smile — _And wish I could keep it for a lifetime._
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21
The most substantial burden women have ever endured was not the weight of motherhood, nor the physical toll of childbirth, nor the exhaustive list of responsibilities, including appointments, bills, meals, and future plans, that they often undertook alone. The most substantial burden women have ever endured was the weight of a man's ego. Fragile as glass, yet razor-sharp, it constantly required polishing, yet was incapable of shining independently. A man who made promises he failed to keep, who spoke of sacrifice but never made any, who relied on women to do the work while he took the credit. A man who needed constant reminders, coaching, and guidance, yet claimed to have accomplished everything on his own. And when women sought truth, held up the mirror, and dared to say, 'You are not who you pretend to be,' his world crumbled. Not because it was untrue, but because he was exposed. And that was the real transgression. For men can deceive, fail, and break promises with impunity, yet a woman who speaks the truth is vilified. She is cruel, vicious, and ungrateful for all that he almost did. And still, she carries the weight of everything: the household, children, meals, laundry, bills, plans, his future, failures, and lies. While he claims it is hard for him, asks if she cannot simply be nice, and reminds her that he works hard for her. But what does a man work for if his home is merely a place for a woman to serve, to build his life while sacrificing her own? And what could women achieve if they never had to bear the weight of a man?
0
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 8:20 PM UTC
SoulPhelan_Unbound
THE WEIGHT OF A MAN
The most substantial burden women have ever endured was not the weight of motherhood, nor the physical toll of childbirth, nor the exhaustive list of responsibilities, including appointments, bills, meals, and future plans, that they often undertook alone. The most substantial burden women have ever endured was the weight of a man's ego. Fragile as glass, yet razor-sharp, it constantly required polishing, yet was incapable of shining independently. A man who made promises he failed to keep, who spoke of sacrifice but never made any, who relied on women to do the work while he took the credit. A man who needed constant reminders, coaching, and guidance, yet claimed to have accomplished everything on his own. And when women sought truth, held up the mirror, and dared to say, 'You are not who you pretend to be,' his world crumbled. Not because it was untrue, but because he was exposed. And that was the real transgression. For men can deceive, fail, and break promises with impunity, yet a woman who speaks the truth is vilified. She is cruel, vicious, and ungrateful for all that he almost did. And still, she carries the weight of everything: the household, children, meals, laundry, bills, plans, his future, failures, and lies. While he claims it is hard for him, asks if she cannot simply be nice, and reminds her that he works hard for her. But what does a man work for if his home is merely a place for a woman to serve, to build his life while sacrificing her own? And what could women achieve if they never had to bear the weight of a man?
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14
Everything, is fine, it is. Fine, If I have that again, it will, make me sick It will always get stuck in my throat, I would choke. Sick, that I don't need, Don't eat. leave it out? Totally. Someone might see, know, help, me? Getting worse. Help myself. Normality, keeping things usual. Work. Pull myself together? get over it, don't be silly: That's not helpful, don’t say anything. What's happening? I've never passed out before. You in my head will you explain What to do, yes you; I'm losing, help me? see things I'm missing. Ignore. Remember being sick ? I don't want that, leave, I Need food to keep the same. Not. Change. Food others have makes me feel unwell. Don't eat. I. Tremble, consider, stare, UNABLE TO EAT MEALS, Eat: with everyone, sit, quiet, be slow, as much as possible, I will leave. At least I tried. To observing eyes. I did well? Touch leave, take leave tremble, later, maybe. No. Don't want to, yet: need to think, what I'm going to have? where I'm going to eat? you can tell me, yes, no.? Safe food list, alters, becomes not safe. It has changed, different cold. Leave it. If it's not the same, colour, shape, smell, not safe, Wait. It's on the list. Avoid it, the date is old, milkshake best. In therapy, I speak, I listen, you unravel. Best? help me? keep to timetable? Its achievable. What has really happened.? Avoid? Try? Listen. Try, try Is it fine?,  me  trying, still worried, concerned. Not what you thought (ARFID)  Michael C Crowder  September 2018
0
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 11:14 AM UTC
michael-c-crowder
Not what you thought
Everything, is fine, it is. Fine, If I have that again, it will, make me sick It will always get stuck in my throat, I would choke. Sick, that I don't need, Don't eat. leave it out? Totally. Someone might see, know, help, me? Getting worse. Help myself. Normality, keeping things usual. Work. Pull myself together? get over it, don't be silly: That's not helpful, don’t say anything. What's happening? I've never passed out before. You in my head will you explain What to do, yes you; I'm losing, help me? see things I'm missing. Ignore. Remember being sick ? I don't want that, leave, I Need food to keep the same. Not. Change. Food others have makes me feel unwell. Don't eat. I. Tremble, consider, stare, UNABLE TO EAT MEALS, Eat: with everyone, sit, quiet, be slow, as much as possible, I will leave. At least I tried. To observing eyes. I did well? Touch leave, take leave tremble, later, maybe. No. Don't want to, yet: need to think, what I'm going to have? where I'm going to eat? you can tell me, yes, no.? Safe food list, alters, becomes not safe. It has changed, different cold. Leave it. If it's not the same, colour, shape, smell, not safe, Wait. It's on the list. Avoid it, the date is old, milkshake best. In therapy, I speak, I listen, you unravel. Best? help me? keep to timetable? Its achievable. What has really happened.? Avoid? Try? Listen. Try, try Is it fine?,  me  trying, still worried, concerned. Not what you thought (ARFID)  Michael C Crowder  September 2018
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44
He came over... We spoke... One of the few Blasts from my past Red wine Poured out in a glass In substitution Of how I poured My heart out To potential Which did not last... At last... We spoke. And what I thought For a split second Could be some kind of Re-ignition to my fine Cashmere woods scented Candle wax... Instead became an unsteady flame Over a firmly molded Candle frame Of a woman... Who has had enough. We spoke... About what he saw as a memory I saw as trauma And there was no more tears To be cried Over his baby mama drama And that his words Fell on deaf ears When he said he can lend an ear Because a promise is that to a fool And a fool... I no longer bared... I am in love... And although that love Had not come alive And although that love Is what I will seek Till the day I die... And that love is the only love Worth years of tear drops From my eyes... I am in love... We spoke... I never meant to end up so cold I never meant to make your ego Feel like a joke I didn’t even mean To invite you to my home... But at last... We spoke No longer my Prince Charming This princess was now Anointed as Queen And this Queen awaits a true King And it takes more than a hug And a kiss on the cheek To make me weak It takes more than You telling me of my beauty Which took me your absence to seek ... your assurance my darling... I **** sure don’t need... I am in love... With a man Whose actions Speak louder than his words Who pushed me Through my darkness Who struck chords of movement Who got me to love... And actually mean it... Who saw my poems... AND ACTUALLY READS IT.... We spoke... And in that moment I realized... I don’t need a title... I just need to exist. Don’t say it... Feel it... We have spoken. .
0
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 2:42 PM UTC
primapoetess
We Spoke
He came over... We spoke... One of the few Blasts from my past Red wine Poured out in a glass In substitution Of how I poured My heart out To potential Which did not last... At last... We spoke. And what I thought For a split second Could be some kind of Re-ignition to my fine Cashmere woods scented Candle wax... Instead became an unsteady flame Over a firmly molded Candle frame Of a woman... Who has had enough. We spoke... About what he saw as a memory I saw as trauma And there was no more tears To be cried Over his baby mama drama And that his words Fell on deaf ears When he said he can lend an ear Because a promise is that to a fool And a fool... I no longer bared... I am in love... And although that love Had not come alive And although that love Is what I will seek Till the day I die... And that love is the only love Worth years of tear drops From my eyes... I am in love... We spoke... I never meant to end up so cold I never meant to make your ego Feel like a joke I didn’t even mean To invite you to my home... But at last... We spoke No longer my Prince Charming This princess was now Anointed as Queen And this Queen awaits a true King And it takes more than a hug And a kiss on the cheek To make me weak It takes more than You telling me of my beauty Which took me your absence to seek ... your assurance my darling... I **** sure don’t need... I am in love... With a man Whose actions Speak louder than his words Who pushed me Through my darkness Who struck chords of movement Who got me to love... And actually mean it... Who saw my poems... AND ACTUALLY READS IT.... We spoke... And in that moment I realized... I don’t need a title... I just need to exist. Don’t say it... Feel it... We have spoken. .
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85
I really don't know what to tell you. I try to be the best human I can be,  I sometimes care too much, I care a lot about many things; and it makes me depressed.. I've been depressed ever since I can remember, and i'm just really sad most of the time.. and not being happy, is the most awful thing I could do to myself.. So before I can love you, I must first love the grey pieces of my old, echoing soul.. and if you wait, wait for the sun to replace the moon. I will gift to you, the buried light inside my dusted, shivering bones.. Sandoval
0
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
sandoval
My echoing Soul
I really don't know what to tell you. I try to be the best human I can be,  I sometimes care too much, I care a lot about many things; and it makes me depressed.. I've been depressed ever since I can remember, and i'm just really sad most of the time.. and not being happy, is the most awful thing I could do to myself.. So before I can love you, I must first love the grey pieces of my old, echoing soul.. and if you wait, wait for the sun to replace the moon. I will gift to you, the buried light inside my dusted, shivering bones.. Sandoval
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17
This road was wide enough to let you run away, and help you find your way. But never long enough to bring you back home, and make you stay.. Sandoval
0
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
sandoval
Road
This road was wide enough to let you run away, and help you find your way. But never long enough to bring you back home, and make you stay.. Sandoval
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7
Without your voice, calling my name. My silent muse, I am deaf to it all .. Sandoval
0
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 10:49 AM UTC
sandoval
Muse
Without your voice, calling my name. My silent muse, I am deaf to it all .. Sandoval
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5
About my love life ? I read the same book, over and over.. Having a shelf full of them at my every reach.. That should tell you everything you need to know about the way I love.. Sandoval
0
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 10:32 AM UTC
sandoval
love
About my love life ? I read the same book, over and over.. Having a shelf full of them at my every reach.. That should tell you everything you need to know about the way I love.. Sandoval
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10
Poor girl, sometimes you love so much, so fiercley, and so madly, that you forget not everyone is half as mental as you.. Sandoval
0
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
sandoval
Madly
Poor girl, sometimes you love so much, so fiercley, and so madly, that you forget not everyone is half as mental as you.. Sandoval
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8
She was the type of girl who breathed in stars, and spit out constellations. Sandoval
0
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 11:58 AM UTC
sandoval
Magic
She was the type of girl who breathed in stars, and spit out constellations. Sandoval
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6
Before you, there was no one. And after you, there will only be your shadow.. Sandoval
0
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
sandoval
you
Before you, there was no one. And after you, there will only be your shadow.. Sandoval
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6
We were roses, washed ashore. Floating in an endless universe. Full of magic, full of hope. Carrying our decaying beauty, everywhere we go.. Sandoval
0
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 5:25 PM UTC
sandoval
The Blues..
We were roses, washed ashore. Floating in an endless universe. Full of magic, full of hope. Carrying our decaying beauty, everywhere we go.. Sandoval
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11
Time always takes, but never gives. And if you ask me, what you were to me. you were a watch on my wrist. Sandoval
0
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
sandoval
Wrist
Time always takes, but never gives. And if you ask me, what you were to me. you were a watch on my wrist. Sandoval
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9
I woke up in the middle of the night. Drowning in your absence, suffocating in your silence.. It was late out, skies cried and stars fell. The day the universe finally understood, what your lips could never tell. Sandoval
0
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
sandoval
Tell
I woke up in the middle of the night. Drowning in your absence, suffocating in your silence.. It was late out, skies cried and stars fell. The day the universe finally understood, what your lips could never tell. Sandoval
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11
I live inside the moon, for she is chained to this earth. And I am chained to you. Sandoval
0
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
sandoval
You
I live inside the moon, for she is chained to this earth. And I am chained to you. Sandoval
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7
Do not tell me, that the moon is yours to own. Then run away when the sun leaves the earth. Sandoval
0
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 3:07 PM UTC
sandoval
Moon
Do not tell me, that the moon is yours to own. Then run away when the sun leaves the earth. Sandoval
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7
Do not dim your lights, then ask me why I love the dark so much.. Sandoval
0
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 1:13 AM UTC
sandoval
Dark
Do not dim your lights, then ask me why I love the dark so much.. Sandoval
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6
I do not care if you have gone. You took my heart with you. And what one does not have, can no longer break in half. Sandoval
0
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
sandoval
Gone
I do not care if you have gone. You took my heart with you. And what one does not have, can no longer break in half. Sandoval
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9
Be happy with her. Leave me alone to die, with your broken song still inside of me. Though its melody is now old, and out of tune. It still remains my favorite sound. Sandoval
0
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 2:22 AM UTC
sandoval
Sound
Be happy with her. Leave me alone to die, with your broken song still inside of me. Though its melody is now old, and out of tune. It still remains my favorite sound. Sandoval
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8
You compared us, to Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. But baby, you ran. He stayed. Tell me again, how we're still the same.. Sandoval
0
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
sandoval
Newman
You compared us, to Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. But baby, you ran. He stayed. Tell me again, how we're still the same.. Sandoval
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9
In the distant stars. The light of your eyes, fought on.. Sandoval
0
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
sandoval
Light
In the distant stars. The light of your eyes, fought on.. Sandoval
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7
I listen to the sound of the waves. Looking for a clue, an echo of your silence. And I patiently wait for you. Like Amphitrite waited for Poseidon. Sandoval
0
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
sandoval
Poseidon
I listen to the sound of the waves. Looking for a clue, an echo of your silence. And I patiently wait for you. Like Amphitrite waited for Poseidon. Sandoval
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9
He was a blank book. With my ink of sonnets, I gave him a story, syllables full of stars. I made him readable, interesting, intriguing. But, the last thing that ever crossed my mind, was that sitting there, on that shelf, I also made him reachable. Sandoval
0
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
sandoval
Blank Book
He was a blank book. With my ink of sonnets, I gave him a story, syllables full of stars. I made him readable, interesting, intriguing. But, the last thing that ever crossed my mind, was that sitting there, on that shelf, I also made him reachable. Sandoval
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11