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tragedies Feb 17
i wonder if you still remember
the time when i wrote you a poem
in the middle of a noisy lunch hour crowd
a small table on the second floor
of the local mcdonald's.

i used to smile when i thought about it,
the days when i felt alone in a room of forty.
when i sat with people who i thought were friends
but were just as plastic
as the lunch tables we ate on.

back then, i clung to that memory
until my hands bruised and my wrists bled.
the scraps of poetry already slipped my mind
but not the pair of headphones we shared
nor the secrets we kept.

every now and then, i think about it,
a wave of soul-crushing emptiness washes over me.
i wonder how you are and how you feel,
but just like us, the fleeting thought
fades away into oblivion.

we lost touch over the years,
but i wish i didn't lose you.
mischief managed.
tragedies Oct 2020
there is something magical,
witnessing the universe at night.
the stars tell you secrets
hidden in plain sight.

that here, in the sky,
lies the answers we seek:
there are far greater things in this universe
than what we claim to be.
wade into the sea of stars and see:
we are all stardust and galaxies.
tragedies Sep 2020
;
The walls were caving in, and he couldn’t breathe,
The fog was too thick, and the monsters out free,
He couldn’t go back, not when people don’t believe
The things he’s been through, and the things he’s seen.

He was shackled by the weight of what he couldn’t understand,
His bones straining at the sorrow he held upon his hands,
And so he wrote the naked truth on the expanse of his flesh,
The ink he used, his own bloodshed.

But the myth of Atlas was never engraved in scars,
Nor were Van Gogh’s masterpieces a product of falling apart.
Still, their struggles became the trophies of society,
As if antlers of a prized animal displayed in full glory.
A piece I wrote for creative writing class two years ago. Still feels like it's unfinished. Might delete later.
tragedies Mar 2019
every night, i look up at the sky,
hoping, praying, for the stars to align.
every night, they look back at me,
their dying light, a shrouded mystery.
tragedies Aug 2018
already, the sand was
slipping from my hands.
and i realize, all we were
was an empty hourglass.
we had all the time in the world, but where did it go?
tragedies Jul 2018
the skin i wear does not feel the same,
yet your touch still lingers, still stays.
i want to claw my skin out until it bleeds.
maybe then, you would finally leave.
i wonder how a snake does it, to willingly shed a part of itself and live.
tragedies Oct 2017
you pushed me off the cliff,
and i swore from then on,
i'd be your greatest
what if.
10.30.16
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