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#strained
Maybe next time you'll be raised right, and I’ll be able to do things the right way. More hours spent on togetherness, less time secluded in the next room. The fireworks stay amongst the stars, not falling, and burning my skin. Maybe I won’t wish for a lobotomy, and your words won’t bulldoze but dance. I’ll lay here afraid of sleep– ending a good day is hard when you don’t know what tomorrow brings. And I don’t know if I’ll be washing dishes, or throwing them. Maybe next time when we reach the fork in the road, we could walk the same path instead of trying to hold hands through highway dividers. At least maybe next life that we meet, we’ll be brave and end the cycle. Red flags won’t be quilted on our beds, missed opportunities not replayed in our heads, just lessons learned and love not given. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll meet with open hands– not ones still shaking from the past. No apologies rehearsed, no silence to break, just peace that finally lasts.
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Oct 23, 2025
Oct 23, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
Next Time
You asked me for a poem, now I don’t want to write. I don’t like obligations, but I want you in my life. I am no William Shakespeare, yet our love has been tragic, standing here again, that never-learning-the-lesson magic. Assuring you with words when you’re unsure how I feel, questioning my desire when my passion’s always real. Standing on a rope bridge that’s missing a few slats, mistrusting our next steps, fearing forward, glancing back. But if the floor was lava, or we’re exiled to the moon, it’d be such an honor to burn a suffocating death with you. A partner in the daytime, perfect lover late at night, a struggle in the morning though at the same time, it feels right. Lover, these steps are scary; we should tread them slow. But hold my hand a little– it’s not yet time to let go. And if you start to falter, and your legs become so weak, I’ll be here to carry you, instant action, no need to think. And if you lose the vision, I’ll pull you back to focus. The love we have is strong, I think that we both know this. And if you just stop listening, I guess I’ll write it down. I’ll tattoo my intentions, I’ll scream them all so loud. So if this poem’s the proof you needed, let every line remind you how– I may never write this love easily, but I mean it, here and now.
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Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 9:25 PM UTC
Still, I Wrote
All I want to do Is hear the waves roll into my Tidepools Just want to Kiss the stars And shine my scars at the moon I just want to live my life Without hearing you In the back of the room And you wonder Why you've been left with a box of half finished blunders By your definition That wasnt my vision You're just an open wound In the back of the room Don't you think the sun misses Leaving warm sweet kisses But you hated every shade it painted me
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Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
In The Back of The Room
all the people i know have stained my brain with their misery and their woe, don't they know? i have them too but i would never shovel them on you it doesn't seem the right thing to do when i could give you all love and give woe the shove i work it out myself though there's still pain on the shelf it's below me, not above i have pain because all i give is love
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Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 2:14 PM UTC
There's Supposed To Be Something Here
mind maggots nesting in the farthest recess of your brain a cranium turned cottage at the hour of your sleep where toyed emotions play you leaving to run the hamsters' wheel where helplessness overpowers you to see your quickened pulse in silvery starlight
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Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 12:11 AM UTC
I'm so tired
I walked into that room and saw you’re body lying there, I barely recognized you; lacking life, muscle and hair. I looked into your open eyes like I never did before, and spoke looking at your face instead of averting gaze to floor. If they asked me to identify or claim, I can’t say that I could, I never truly knew you or felt the connection that I should. You were given the curse of cancer, but gifted the knowledge and time, but did you ever even think that the answer could be to reach out your hand to mine? I had so much I never said, maybe you had the same. I’ll remain running the sentences in my head, but never question if I should feel blame. For a child to not know a parent is easy as night and day, as much as I should’ve known you, you should’ve known me the same way. Now my sister and I are the only ones here, the only ones with your name and blood, and it shouldn’t even be a question or fear if we were ever truly loved.
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Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 12:48 PM UTC
Bloodlines
strained is supposed to be a word for pasta not relationships.
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
lonesome spaghetti
I used to be neon pink Smile wide and radiant Everything is great, I would think Then I started to go silent Here I am, neon I am not Light bulbs gone dead I used to talk quite a lot Now it’s all in my head Colors been drawn out Not drawn, strained Stuck in an eternal drought I’m afraid it’s unexplained
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
Here I am, neon I am not.
~ Money alone chips away at sanctioned walls Porous, your deflection is my bane I loath the chasm this singularity has instilled between us. ~
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Conflict II
Mama washes the clothes And hangs them out to Dry, she takes me by my Hand and we dance beneath The twelve o'clock sky. Papa goes to out and Doesn't come home until Late, we're all snuggled in Bed by the time Mama asks Him why he hasn't ate. *He's missing out on time with The kids,* Mama tells her sister One dreary day. I might just have to work more, she'll say. Papa feels weak, thinks it's his job To provide for a family that's Just starting to fray. Mama works and we ask Why she won't come to play. Papa tells me she's off to Work, that it'll just be for A little while. But, days turn into weeks, Weeks turn into months, Months turn into years. Instead of Mama, Daddy now Wipes my tears. They tell him that he's a poor Excuse of a man And that Mama is better Off finding a real one. Times have changed, Families grow in different ways. Sometimes things happen, But I've learned that Mama's and Papa's still Love their children just the same.
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Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Mama's and Papa's
Anxious, strained, agitated, placid, still, dispassionate Reference the DSM and of its many pages Ask ad infinitum, Will you heal schism? Lines of my shape in shade seem monstrous when I've been your part and whole well before your birth Not long ago you were pale, semen-white I breathed over your mother's neck I painted canvas with color
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Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
Energies|Down Below
girl - your silence tears upon me a savage beast mute for in your intermittent groans on gusts of ire masked in murmurs curt seepage coarse, acrid leaks girl - tell me straight, hide not my fate your real intent upon these clouds benign for when the heat of marinated fury bursts erupts one day on bowed head sad intent on living life in peace girl - will it ruin times of joy we knew bursts of copper, gold and red no separation there but alchemy of spirits free so what is it that ails you friend arms folded eyes aflame in chilled blind rage
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Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC
silent treatment
The daffodils are springing In the bloom, the pollen toss The bird sway as they sing I sense your touch in my all Take a little longer ahhh Take a little time Just forget to forge The gorge you left whole The pavement I step, rolling stones Each pierce my heart, the yesterday I am not a magician neither a mystic To foretell your heart strained desires Cascading motions or emotions Anticipated notions and collusions Erosion of the past demolish solutions Fainted resolution my contradiction
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
Pollen Toss (Acoustic Lyrics with Audio)
You are my dream and my nightmare, a delicate being that has been created on this earth. Your soft fingers touch every inch of my warm olive skin as i sleep, my body craves that, your gentle touch, all over me. You are the dream i've been afraid of, the only one that has strained all my thoughts. because once those made up dreams come out to play, it goes into fates hands and fate will be the one allowed to make the changes, we then are no longer capable of controlling the little things or how the ending will be, it could all be a nightmare or the charming dream that has been consuming your mind, i guess that's the hidden beauty of it all you could say.
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Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
Nightmare or Charming Dream
You burnt me You've given me bruises You've hurt me So much it hurts to walk You've strained me so much I needed medical help But I guess the best things in life hurt you the most Food burns you Exercise strains you Sport bruise you Shoes blister you
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Best things hurt you
Tear stained and damaged So close to the truth Looking deep inside So much to lose Tear stained shirt And a tear stained cheek Impossible to clean Leaving the heart so weak Tears rolling down Asking so many questions Getting no answers But tear stained emotions A devotion to tears Fighting away the fears Everything looks clear Through glistening eyes Time to apologize To stop all the cries Of my tear stained eyes
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
Tear Stained