#slantrhyme - Hello Poetry

I kneel in rooms where prayers grow thin, Where candle-smoke forgets the air, And whisper not for us, nor then— But for the man who might be there. My heart is cracked, but not by love, Not by the hunger to return. It breaks for what you never were, For bridges left to rot and burn. Your body dims like winter light Behind a cathedral of bone, A bell that tolls each reckless night For sins you’ve claimed but never owned. I watch from pews I cannot leave, Stained glass between your fall and me. Survival taught me how to grieve From sanctuaries of don’t you see. I pray to gods with broken names, To ash and mercy intertwined: Unteach his hands their practiced harm, Unknot the violence in his mind. Let healing find him without me. Let grace arrive without my cost. I will not be the altar stone Where better men go down and rot. I mourn the man you could have been— That quiet shape behind your eyes. He haunts me more than what you are: A gentler ghost that never tried. So take this plea, whoever hears, From someone spared, but not unscarred: Save him from choices sharpening, But keep me far from where they are. Amen, I think. Or something close. A word for hope that still keeps breath. I do not love you. I lament The life you buried— Not your death.

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Dec 13, 2025

Dec 13, 2025 at 12:23 PM UTC

shadowspade

Elegy for a Man Still Breathing

I kneel in rooms where prayers grow thin, Where candle-smoke forgets the air, And whisper not for us, nor then— But for the man who might be there. My heart is cracked, but not by love, Not by the hunger to return. It breaks for what you never were, For bridges left to rot and burn. Your body dims like winter light Behind a cathedral of bone, A bell that tolls each reckless night For sins you’ve claimed but never owned. I watch from pews I cannot leave, Stained glass between your fall and me. Survival taught me how to grieve From sanctuaries of don’t you see. I pray to gods with broken names, To ash and mercy intertwined: Unteach his hands their practiced harm, Unknot the violence in his mind. Let healing find him without me. Let grace arrive without my cost. I will not be the altar stone Where better men go down and rot. I mourn the man you could have been— That quiet shape behind your eyes. He haunts me more than what you are: A gentler ghost that never tried. So take this plea, whoever hears, From someone spared, but not unscarred: Save him from choices sharpening, But keep me far from where they are. Amen, I think. Or something close. A word for hope that still keeps breath. I do not love you. I lament The life you buried— Not your death.

37

*Two hops in a skip, A penny lost in a fish. There are bad men at work today, Stay away from the parks. Close up houses after dark, You may hear the song of a shark, But understand no singing birds. It will save you from the wolf's curse. There's evil here, I can smell it. Some of them swear to tell the truth, Yet allude even a morsel of their roots. Some whine about demons and angels, Wrapped in their manipulations and handles, All to find a way to enter your sanctuary. Two hops in a skip, Time passes in a blip. Don't veer off course in your vessel, Hide away until the danger dies.*

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Aug 29, 2025

Aug 29, 2025 at 11:10 AM UTC

Court-of-Owls

Ink Blots

*Two hops in a skip, A penny lost in a fish. There are bad men at work today, Stay away from the parks. Close up houses after dark, You may hear the song of a shark, But understand no singing birds. It will save you from the wolf's curse. There's evil here, I can smell it. Some of them swear to tell the truth, Yet allude even a morsel of their roots. Some whine about demons and angels, Wrapped in their manipulations and handles, All to find a way to enter your sanctuary. Two hops in a skip, Time passes in a blip. Don't veer off course in your vessel, Hide away until the danger dies.*

19

It's really not you -it's me, you see I have a slight problem with intimacy Through the absent babble and lost words Somehow I speak, but am never really heard I lie awake; thoughts keep my eyes open Maybe I'll run a hot bath to soak in I can't help but feel bad for what I've done Fighting a war in my mind that can not be won

0

Jun 28, 2016

Jun 28, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC

veneaking

Slant Rhyme

It's really not you -it's me, you see I have a slight problem with intimacy Through the absent babble and lost words Somehow I speak, but am never really heard I lie awake; thoughts keep my eyes open Maybe I'll run a hot bath to soak in I can't help but feel bad for what I've done Fighting a war in my mind that can not be won

8