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Jun 2020 · 353
from you, and beyond
it is a meaningless curiosity,
to wonder where you went.
the anonymity of the future
seems to disembody what came
and went.

and i sat, and wept,
and inhaled what your cigarette bled.
there, lonesome, where
two sparks had once met.

a fire so bright that  
dripped kerosene where it stepped,
was put out by time,
and i observed as it crept.

i did spend restless nights,
and i prepare. more will come.
but trust me my dear,
one day you’ll know where i'm truly from.

just as you told me we were,
that there’d be no more “us”
as the sun rose in morn’
and then set off towards dusk.

the light will dismiss,
like the flicker from a chalice,
my skin will thicken
like mountains on an atlas.

and i will rise, and i will tremble,
as my words craft me a temple,
colossal in height, and treacherous in-depth,
where my scripture will live, and in solitude kept.

but you’ll hear, and you’ll listen, and you’ll reflect on my image
as i watch myself glisten, from you and beyond.

on that day, understand my duty as an artist,
and why my memory of you will last.
as the suffering turned to art for my future
will be composed of our distant past.

-melancholicreator
recently went through a breakup with someone i'm still completely in love with. this poem is about how i'll overcome these feelings of heartbreak and loneliness only to use my suffering for productive and creative art. i mean, what else can you do with pain besides let it consume you for the better or worse?
Apr 2020 · 173
the bar
there is a man.
he steps into a bar.
it looks as if to
be older than he himself.

eyes flutter to his stained clothes.
he’s composed of
coarse skin,
***** nails,
whiskey for blood,
a head full of Bukowski,
sixty two dollars,
and some change.

only the elements.

he drinks, and drinks, and drinks.
he burps, he yells,
he ****** on the curb,
he curses.
a swig and kick then swing.
and now the
asphalt feels colder than steel.

warmer was the creaking barstool,
heating his soul,
gulp after gulp.

bitter bottom shelf brown.

but he’s determined.
determined to finish it.
and he returns.

nobody in the bar.
he looks out a window.
the streets are empty.
he grabs bottles that are not,
making friends with them.

alone with the barstool.
the tender, emerging from underneath the bar,
fixes another drink.
the man thought he was alone.
the glasses clink.

they drink, and drink, and drink.
alone, but together.

in a drunken haze he sees the drywall melt.
he hears the rumble, the pieces of oak wood
being ripped from their foundations.

the shattered glasses surrounding
the man, forming a barrier between
the outside world and himself he could not understand.

“it’s falling apart, isn't it.”
says the man, accepting.

“why yes, yes it is.”
says the tender, fixing one last drink.

“here’s to misery.”
says the tender, raising his glass up to the man.

“...and here’s to it’s company.”
says the man.

the glasses clink,
he looks out the window again.
he thinks of where he could be right now,
outside he sees marie, the kids,
the front lawn where he’d
drink beer and pretend to like
his neighbors.  

he hears no gulp or groan
from the tender.
the man looks back and sees an empty bar
with nobody there.

he feels the bar collapsing
in on itself, destroying everything within it.
a shame, truly.

no one to bask in this with.

“well.”
he says, raising his glass of bitter brown in the air.

“...to just misery then.”

cheers.


-melancholicreator
please comment & repost if you enjoyed.
Jan 2020 · 122
a home to bloom
the wind didn’t blow the same,
the trees wouldn’t sway during fall
and the longer the day
the more i’d wait in
until it was dark enough for me to
come out and bloom for you,
in the essence of moonlight.

at least i used to bloom,

for you, i mean.

although every gray shade and
every rough water drop told me
not to,
i bloomed for you.

but you never nourished me,
you left me out to die once the
sun came back up and let the city’s
busy feet trample my bright and vivid
colors.

i must admit, my colors came from you,
but now i’ve planted my roots somewhere else.

where wind gracefully caresses with kindness,
somewhere the trees dance to the beat of the rain
and where the longer the day
the more time i have to bloom.

even while in the dark, i’m seen now,
for my colors. that’s all i ever really wanted.

from you, i mean.

-melancholicreator
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Jan 2020 · 979
realize
{have you realized, my love?
        that you are
                all i breathe,
    all i seek
                up above
in the sky and clouds
            i’ve encountered
    a path
            in absence of
        you
        it leads me
to a vast
        and desolate
                darkness.

    the path is
            fragranced
    by your sweet
                and
innocent scent,
        your blissful energy
    trapped in captivity
            cries out to me,
my love

    my love, you are
        brandished
            by gold and ivory
    i'm in love with
your shine, but
            undeniably
    you aren’t looking
                    at mine.

    you, my dear, are
                magnetic,
transcending and
            everlasting joy
    rushes my heart
        while the thought
    of you

            rips.

                    me.

        apart.}
please like and comment if you enjoy the poem.
Nov 2019 · 180
seriously?
“you look down, what’s wrong?”

“i’m fine.”

“...well you don’t look fine, bud.”

“...”

“what could you be sad about anyways? you’re breathing! you’re alive! you’ve got so much to live for in your life! quit complaining, you’re only pitying yourself.”

“****. you. honestly.”

“it speaks!”

“seriously, *******.”

“**** me? why? is it because i’m too busy over here living a happy life, not pitying myself about **** that doesn’t matter?”

“SHUT THE **** UP. YOU LITERALLY CAME TO ME TO ASK WHAT WAS WRONG, YOU’VE GOT NO CLUE WHAT’S ON MY MIND. ******* FOR GOING OFF ON ME THE WAY YOU DID. YOU SHOULD’VE KEPT YOUR MOUTH SHUT IF ALL YOU WERE GOING TO DO WAS BELITTLE ME. HOW ON EARTH COULD YOU KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON INSIDE OF ME, YOU BARELY GAVE ME A CHANCE TO OPEN UP. AND I WAS HESITANT TO DO SO BECAUSE YOU’VE BELITTLED ME BEFORE. I DON'T DESERVE THE DEMONS IN MY MIND, NEVERTHELESS A ******* FROM YOU.”

“...”

“i’m not ******* pitying myself. i’m angry at myself, i’m sad about my life, i’m regretful for who i’ve hurt and why. i’d explain the stories behind these feelings but now i realize how unworthy you are of those. *******.”

“jesus man, i’m sorry, i didn't realize how upset you were.”

“i wasn’t upset, i was down, NOW i’m upset.”

“well i’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you feel that way bud...”

“it’s fine. sorry for lashing out.”

“although, i’m not sorry that the universe likes me and is my friend. i guess that’s why i can’t relate.”

“yeah well, i’m sorry it isn't ******* mine.”

-melancholicreator
repost if you enjoyed!
Nov 2019 · 114
sniffles
imagine catching cold and getting sick.
maybe you drank out of the wrong persons bottle or
maybe you were really sweaty as cold weather began to kick.
maybe you haven’t been drinking enough water.
maybe someone sneezed on you and now
the nasty thing starts growing larger.

depression works in a similar fashion.
except, instead of your nose feeling stuffy and buggish,
and instead of your body aching,
and instead of the constant coughing,

your entire world feels stuffy and buggish.
your mind, body and soul ache.
and there’s constant, coughing, regurgitating pain.

imagine catching a cold and getting sick.
maybe you’ll never ever find someone else like them.
maybe you’re not worth anything they meant.
maybe you won’t get out of bed today.
maybe suicide isn’t the only way.
maybe you should ignore your wealth.
maybe you did this to yourself?
maybe everyone else did this to you?
maybe you’re just blaming others for your suffering?
maybe these are all simply faked graphics and you’re just buffering.
maybe this feeling is just comforting.
maybe the noose won’t swing. maybe their phone will ring?
maybe i’m not worth a thing. maybe the birds don’t speak
because i don’t give them something to sing.

i should probably take antibiotics and drink more water.

-melancholicreator
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Nov 2019 · 146
fallen angel
i’m not much of a believer anymore,
but something i never told you
was that i dreamt of you
not too long ago.

in the dream, I was holding your hand,
and we stood amongst the blades
of the wind, with our heads high,
grinning against the world.

in the dream, god approached me
and said...

“i hope you realize she is special. care for her,
protect her and loath her in love.

when the world tries to topple her,
be her mountain.

for i,
will not be there.

when she sheds her tears
and they spell her sins,
take those words
and craft a melody
she’ll later on sing.

for i,
will not be there.

and when she’s broken down
and her wings can no longer
soar, be the king she’s wanted
for so long.

for i,
will not be there.

for she is the fallen angel,
I worked the most
on.”

-melancholicreator
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Nov 2019 · 234
the exchange
she whispered to him, softly,
and asked to be laid down.
down on soft ground.
on soft soil.

she remained calm, studiously
watching her breath,
slowly pouring out
the life found
within the compounds
of her barren soul.

as she slithered her
fingers through the lively
green that surrounded,
she shed one singular,
embracing tear.

as the heavy droplet
trailed down her face
and touched the dense
earth, something happened.

something so pure and beautiful.

that one drop gave life
to the land around her,
it bloomed the flowers
and the animals rejoiced.

it cleared the skies and
filled the rivers.
it made the world a little warmer
than yesterday, and gave her
spirit a home, amongst
the others who had
done the same.

it was time.
her sacrifice, although in
short scene seemed unfair,
served a greater purpose.
so he let go, and let her rest.
alone and at peace.

she went.
with a smile
at the surface.

he understood what took place,

the exchange, of life.

-melancholicreator
i'd like for readers to comment on what they think this poem might be about and repost if you enjoyed, thank you!
Nov 2019 · 871
nameless
what do you call this?

this ******* void, this deep hole
dug up by us both in each other
i know you feel this too
we share this now, as we shared all else

my phone plays your favorite song
as i'm out for a run

cars on the road start moving faster and i'm thinking
if the hit would hurt less if i close my eyes

****** by this absence of you

this isn't love,
this is the feeling you get
after it leaves.

-melancholicreator
if you enjoyed please consider reposting to share with others. <3
Nov 2019 · 706
relapse
my eyes are drawn
to your white lettering
and black label.

my soul is rather
fired up by that
substance inside you.

my lips,
by the taste.

“don’t do this to yourself, you’ve been good all this time.”

“you’ve been steering clear, you’ve been attending your meetings.”

i tell myself, as i reach in
my pocket and rustle through
the chips i‘ve collected all
this time as reward for
learning to live without you.

but ****.

that smell. the way you feel inside me.
the way you make my head shake.

the way you make me forget.

you taste of liquor, my dear, and i’m a recovering alcoholic.

oh ****, i’m sorry...correction.
was a recovering alcoholic.

so a toast,
to your wonderfully devilish eyes,
and to another relapse.

-melancholicreator
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Nov 2019 · 355
misunderstood beauty
i know you’re your own poison,
my love.

the things around you
place a bright
spot light
upon your soul
and expect a certain behavior

this makes you hate yourself
makes you feel heavy at every step
makes you snap at the
lightest presentation of stress
and it’s been killing you
for a long time

but to this, you fight back
with every drop of sweat and every tear
even while you bleed
even if you feel like breaking down
you continue

while the one you trusted let you down
while your dreams seemed far fetched
while you didn’t want his touch
but he said
“babe, let’s”
while you watched the disappearance
of your pure crown
you maintained a smile

you didn’t need anyone or
anything, your self sufficient self
raises every single hair
on my body
every part of me
admires you, it just
wishes you knew your wealth

no one understands
but i can see
i can see your unsteady breath
as your anxious habits kick in
at full speed
and i want to be there
to catch you as you fall
and bring you right back up

people convince themselves
that because of your past
that you’re the same person
that you haven’t changed at all
this makes you feel alone

i want you to know that i can
see it all
i can see the tears you hide
see the tales full of white lies
that you tell the world
just to get through the day

but what you don't know is
that i don't just glance, or stare
but become completely submerged
by your essence that i simply
admire and smile
because as you suffer
i’ve waited patiently for you
to glance at me
that way i’d be able to gain grip
of those beautiful glimmering eyes of yours
and say
“hey, it’s okay”

you are strong
you are exquisite
you are top of the line
baby girl
i’d be wrong
to let my words sink into my being
without hearing
what you think about
you being mine

my mind has memorized every
inch of you, duly
know i'm not like the rest, and i'm here to
listen and to stay,
you misunderstood beauty.


-melancholicreator
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Nov 2019 · 315
rain rain go away
it poured that night.
so much so that it seemed
that god knew he was
in pain.

he wielded his weapon,
gripped it in guilt,
he wanted to sin.

he was alone.
so he felt a solemn comfort.

the type of comfort that
hurts
the heart and accompanies
the soul.

he could not wield his
weapon any more.
he could no longer
fight this treacherous
war against the enemy.

himself.

so he held it up,
just enough
to aim at the
source.

just enough to mask
the cries and the tears
and the pain
with the rain

as it poured, and poured, and poured.

he called god’s name,

but it just poured.
and poured.
and poured.

until his cries were no longer,
as they had finally ended.

as they fled from the sentence
of life and blended with
the lonely droplets on
his window.

and it poured, and it poured, and it poured.

and he called out one last time,
and finally made a decision
that night after god’s absence
was made clear.

and suddenly, there was no more sorrow.
no more pain, no more fear, no more shame.

simply, peace.

as the red painted a beautiful
piece on the window.

and then the rain
stopped.

-melancholicreator
if you enjoyed please consider reposting to share with others. <3
Nov 2019 · 214
once upon a time
once upon a time,
through inhales of cigarette smoke,
grime and long gone hope,
rose a pretty little woman.

i was fortunate enough to witness this.

i witnessed the rise and fall of a soul so pure.
so purely stained by reality’s ruthless claws.
a soul so pained by the universe’s laws.

her knees? bruised, from the falls.
her eyes? dark, from the endless tearful nights.
her hair? knotted, from all the pulling her devils did.
her lips? warm, from the blood that dripped.

the red she bled accompanied by sorrow.

her voice? soft, but so immensely broken.
so fatigued and weary,
because although she doesn’t realize it,

her aura screams in tongues
of unbearable agony.

once upon a time,
we met.
through the plans of
some unknown being.

seeing how our pain had grown so similar.

and ever since we held onto each other, we haven't left.

because,
once upon a time, we suffered.
once upon a time, we were crushed by the damages done to us.
once upon a time, we were cowards and refused to face our devils.
once upon a time, we were disposable in this barren waste land.

and life isn’t a fairytale, it will continue to do it’s worst
and we’ll feel pain like no other.

but, i’d rather continue
my painful tale with her,
than without.

-melancholicreator
if you enjoyed please consider reposting to share with others. <3
Nov 2018 · 4.5k
a waste of tears
smoke.

the smell of nicotine
rests on my black
graphic t-shirt.

the dwell of misery
rests on my back,
while music reverbs.

my black vans are
filthy with the weight
of pain.

a wallet,
filled with little notes.
writings from her
in my back pocket.

a very lonely bench awaits
my place as i sit and
try to out smoke
this familiar mental state.

i look out into the
water ahead, the creek’s
liquid mirror reflecting
her aura.

“oh god, not again.”

a sudden and sharp spike
of sadness runs through
me, a longing tear trails
my frozen cheeks.

then i remember him,
and how much i miss him.

i remember him calling out
for me along with mom,
and how harmoniously my
heart would pump gallons
upon gallons of hot burning
blood.

hot burning love.

i take another drag to mask
the molecules of reality
that i wish i wouldn’t have
to inhale.

i look up
at the aligning stars,
and by the grace
of the god i do not
believe in
do i tell you
that i let out a cry
so loud, that he himself must’ve
felt heaven shake.

with water flooding
my brown eyes, i
yelled and pleaded
whatever being
that could hear me
to end me, because

i tell you that
all this pain,

of missing certain people,
of longing for lost love,
of experiencing incompleteness,
of feeling so ******* unable to stand up,
of combatting the poison guilt is,

drags.

at my soul,
harder
than cigarette

smoke.

-melancholicreator
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Nov 2018 · 235
storm
droplets of water strike
my room window
harder than usual.
there’s a storm outside
as well as inside.
rain is supposed to make sleeping
easier but my thoughts
seem to be louder than thunder.

a young soul’s weeping
won't deter the storm one
bit. it’s relentlessness forces
the noise i want to let out
deeper in.

my iphone chimes.
the nerves in my hand tingle
as they feel the vibration.
an instagram notification letting me know
that the one who broke my heart
also liked my picture.

i laugh as i go through your posts.
things aren’t the way you put them out
to be online honey.
oh, how you’d wish they were that way.

subtweets upon subtweets
about how much i hurt you
that matter more than the fact
that i genuinely tried.

had to swallow every problem
you brought upon the table, and naively
i was good to you, not realizing
how toxic our thing was for me.

but i needed you back then.
i wanted this.
it’s all past tense now.
i realized i don’t.

the droplets get quiet as i realize
that no ******* longer
am i going to let you play victim
when you’re the one who dealt the bad cards

oh, would you look at that,
the thunder stopped.
i suppose my realization is the
rainbow that comes after the storm.

-melancholicreator
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Nov 2018 · 223
a toast to you
and *******
baby girl i don't know
if you know this,
but you shine.

this sensation or rush
or tsunami of bliss.
the movements
of the shift of your hips.

the way your hands
fit perfectly in mine
your lips, your jaw, your thighs
my everyday wine and dine.

the sand
underneath my feet flows
as you nourish
my soul and my mind.

-melancholicreator
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— The End —