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Jul 2020 · 292
anon Jul 2020
She often dreams of him
Or Him? Or even…. her?
Large hands, a soft mouth
Enveloping completely.

When the dream ends
And you are rudely, abruptly awakened:
Nothing is left
But silence.
Jul 2020 · 139
anon Jul 2020
She walked,
Alone, unseeing of the clamour behind her.
Cold, and bereft,
Yearning - for what?
She left. Just disappeared,
Cocooning further as hands
Invisible to her, tried to land
On her heart.
This is the first poem I wrote! I was proud of it and it still holds significance to me.
Jul 2020 · 242
anon Jul 2020
When my heart is full
It feels overwhelming
But cozy
At the same time.

It strikes suddenly.
As irrational laugher that causes fat droplets to squeeze out of your eyes,
Or appreciation for relationships
Probably pushed to the forefront of your mind
Through the slight tipsy haze of alcohol.

And I try to grasp that feeling
Try to clench my own heart, bursting, in my fist.
And when it inevitably takes flight,
I realise I do not mind at all.
A first on the more positive side of things. Although writing darker emotions comes more easily to me, I do like to intentionally write happier pieces in order to not lose perspective.
Jul 2020 · 113
anon Jul 2020
Shame - guilt; embarrassment
Is not acute.
Sometimes it peaks
And washes over you

Sometimes it lingers
For days
For months
For years.

It reminds you
In every conversation, every television programme, every post
And what you once thought was initial,
Rears up again
Constructive criticism, comments and tips welcome.

— The End —