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i went to the doctor
to check in on my meds.
i told her that nothing felt different.
she celebrated like it was good.
i don’t think it is.
i think i need something to change,
right now.

she begged me to show her
the cuts stacked neatly on my leg.
but i wouldn’t.
no one should see my pain,
not when she’ll look at it
with disgust.

i found
i couldn’t look her in the eye.
this is because
she had brilliant brown eyes,
and they reminded me of yours.
i think they’re gorgeous
but it also hurt to see.

i wish we could still talk.
maybe i’ll say hello to you,
but i don’t know what else i’d say
and if you would even
want to hear from me.
don’t forget,
you can always reach out.

school is almost over,
and i’m glad.
summer means working my *** off,
and summer means
i don’t have to see you
and feel that pain in my chest.

i miss you i miss you.
despite your comment on my poem,
you’re not some stupid boy.
and i know that
because i am not a stupid girl.
i wouldn’t give my heart
to someone who didn’t deserve it.
she took my picture,
that's how it started
that's how i knew,
she took my picture
off the refrigerator door

when your picture is taken off
the refrigerator
like dust off a knick knack shelf

you do the dishes,
you have to wash your own socks.

the refrigerator is cursed
like a lost winning lottery ticket.
cursed with pictures of dead pets,
dead aunt's, cousins, grandma...

(my picture rip off the fridge like $#@#$#@...)


the fridge hums its song,
warm on the outside
and cold on the inside.

you *******, i shout,
and i punched the fridge,
packed my suitcase,

grabbed my fishing pole
and out the front door
I went.

half way down the sidewalk,
I turned

and there was little Jack
looking out the window at me.

(tears ran down my cheeks.)

MAN! I'm gonna miss that dog!!!
Love is a skill; some have it, some do not.
Love happens to be something everyone should be taught.
Then there are people who love so fiercely,
it makes your soul consume all that’s given with a yearning, dearly.
They show love in such simple ways,
to help those who struggle get through their days.
Just a simple message or a once-upon-a-time thought—
these people are special and should never be forgot.
When you meet someone who was born with or has mastered this skill,
you know in your heart that this thing called love is so real.
I happen to know one of these empathetic souls.
You can see the love shine from him wherever he goes.
Just the smile on his face, or the squint in his eye,
makes me so glad I get to call him my guy!
RL💓
I am
naked
in my thought

Safe
within my room
nestled and cocooned
I touch no one and no one
touches me

I am poet
Words barred and leveraged
for all soiled souls
who are possessed

For who finds faith
in word
without light
while searching
in the dark
It's so hard to shine
When the light is desperately fleeting
And the dark tales root
Inching up like ivy
Wrapping around everything
Until the veins pour through the ramparts
Tangling.

How hard I’ve tried,
Wrestling with the cold black tide
Washing over like it's high noon
Break these castle walls until I’m consumed
Finding it hard to swim
When Poseidon’s arms wrap around me.

Can’t find the surface,
The sun is a ball dancing on the lyrics
Singing limericks to find a purpose
But my lungs fill with dread
From these waters ever pouring
Dragging me to the dregs
I wish like a birthday
But I won’t blow out the hope of a new day.

It’s so hard to breathe,
When the light is desperately fleeting,
And the dark takes root,
Inching through the cracks like it’s ivy.
Harder to breathe when I’m deep under the surface
Chasing a purpose that won’t sing for me.
we all have dark days no?
>crumbled, rumbled, street survivors,
paper scraps that took the rage abuse rap,
dead love notes, bills red with overdues,
these pre-poems have traveled wind currents
some in from Jersey, some hailing Minnesota,
ain't never see one that crossed the Atlantic,
but reckon it is not a theoretical impossibilty

unpretty city streets, like a museum, collects 'em,
plenty of exhibition space, forlon, historically
orphaned, disbanded, whose paths all got confused,
some sweet, all beat, balled and thrown, no home,
no more, each a reveille, each humming taps, now,
all scented by strret odors, none pleasant, each was
in its prior life, the meat, the grist, the meal of what
was, coulda been, a poem that would have survived
yellowed in care, tender glanced, tucked in books,
safekept, but slipped away, victims of friction, fraction

look down, be unafraid, unravel them slow, careful,
abused, all these messengers all need a good home,
a box in a closet, a book of tenders, witnesses to what
they've seen, places they've been, hand held, tenderized
by words spiced, variegated, ink, pencil, typewritten, like
their prior human authors, all sizes, all shapes, some on
colored paper, a l l astrayed, accidental, purposed, details
and detritus, once deemed essemtial, important, necessary
and needed, even believed, but times change

you're stuck, brain ain't cooperating, tired of staring inside
your self's self, pull on a sweater, it's a chilly spring overcast air,
that don't natural warm, more naturally warn, be careful where,
you step, your next poem is laying right there, grab a few, take
more than a couple, this is like a school dance, try a few, until
you bank the right one in the till, the connection made, a kiss,
in secret stolen, and the drive, the forces, the perspiration urgency
leads to you desk, nook, granny's cranny, and the world of words
overflow like seagulls in a harbor, so many spilling, hard is the
choosing, but excited adrenaline, free basing, in your veins and
****, you gotta just write again, right now, add a ***** poem
back to its rightful place in a heart, upon eyes, tongue taste them
syllables, clap and laugh as they symmetrically form, subtle rhyming,
the sleeping seeds have sprouted, the brown brain loamy cells,
fertile and potent, energize, impregnate, and you just can't wait
to walk the streets, in search of many, many more

it's ok, you have permission to utter a whispery nearly silent
hallelujah<
April 13 2025  10;10am NYC
this cane to me sudden, slow and no intentend to  marry< no reason wht,
but the title hit me square, and sat down and spilled the beans, and left me quite
satisfied, almost a little purged
What if two souls of symphonic stanza
With hearts full of haikus' hope
Met right here on Hello Poetry
By reading what the other wrote.

They'd send messages of meter
With affectionate allusions
This couldn't get any sweeter
Free verses with no conclusions

A poem crafted with emotions true
Was sent to one of the two last night.
It wants to say, "I love you more than words."
But instead reads, "I love the way you write."

They'll figure out in time that they're meant to be together
And I am sure that they'll make the cutest couple(t) ever!
Two poets are almost always meant to be
Especially if they meet on Hello Poetry!
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