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 1026° 
PhantomSavage
I
Dont
Understand
Life
I
Dont
Understand
Myself
I
Don't
Understand
Anything
I
Don'­t
Understand
Please
Help
Me
Understand
How
To
Survive
The
Calm
Af­ter
The
Storm
After
So
Long
Living
In
The
Hurricane
 894° 
Carlo C Gomez
~
Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.

Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.

While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?

In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.

So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.

~
 555° 
Robin Edwards
Suddenly we see
At the corners of our eyes
The cost of our love
 543° 
minx
keep it sweet
but i just really wanna
grind on your thigh
while your hand
softly strokes my side

i wanna be yours
but we have different interpretations
you wanna be my daddy
but i want you
to be my daddy

i can't help it
you can't help it
you're so excited
kissing my neck
snaking your hands tight around my waist

daddy, daddy, daddy
the endearment is so twisted in my mind
you won't ever be my daddy
but you'll always be my daddy
i'm so, so innocent, but am i really ?
whoops...
 375° 
Jellyfish
I keep trying to learn more
I want to understand myself better
I'm alone at the end of the day
No one else will put in the same effort as me.
 366° 
Juniper
My heart is on a plate
Starting at me
My brain has a desire
A disease that makes
Life hard life not life
Thing or people make
The pain go away
But it always comes back
The pain when you cry
The tears falling on your pillow
The fear of what your family
Or friends are going to say or
What they will do
The doctor will listen
The doctor will help
But it’s the pain that always
Come back
Therapy does not always help
 361° 
Austin Morrison
I wake to a sky painted gray,
Another day carved from the endless stone,
Dragging my shadow through time’s heavy hands,
While the question festers: where do I belong?
The mirror offers no map,
Only the hollow stare of someone aging too fast,
Late twenties—a milestone to nowhere,
Just a rung in the ladder I never asked to climb.
The world outside is a roaring machine,
Grinding hope into sparks that vanish in the dark.
Corruption drips from the seams of the streets,
And I can’t decide if I’m angry,
Or just too tired to care.
I keep moving, though,
Lost in the rhythm of meaningless tasks.
My purpose feels like a phantom,
Always one step ahead,
Always laughing as I stumble behind.
Happiness? It’s a language I don’t speak.
It’s a dream I don’t dare to dream,
Not when the weight of my flaws
Makes me wonder if anyone could
Love me for who I am,
And not the mask I wear to survive is starting to crack.
The chaos grows louder each year,
Like a wildfire feasting on the brittle bones of society.
And yet, I think—I hope—I can find a quiet place,
A haven amidst the ruin,
Where the world’s collapse doesn’t matter.
I don’t need salvation,
Just a corner of warmth,
A voice that says, Stay awhile, I'm with you.
A home, not built of bricks,
But of arms that hold me when the ash falls.
And so I wander,
Through this maze of broken dreams and empty days,
Waiting for a break in the storm,
For a hand to guide me,
For the fire to rage and the world to end,
While I finally find the peace
Of wondering home.
 355° 
EngrMakata
Like a bench beneath
the autumn leaves,
I stay where you left me
gathering time, not dust.
 312° 
Nobody
.
why do i always have to fall in love with the people who will never love me
im sorry i can't control it. i just want it to end
 286° 
Anugraha
In the depths of my mind,
dishes pile high on the sink
stacking on the countertops
and leaking on to the floor
with dried crusty food
now too hard to scrub down.
And the laundry basket has overflown
The basket no longer in view
Now, just a mountain of clothes
And the table has never been cleared
The bedsheets never changed
The ceilings joined by cobwebs
And the bathroom floor all grimy.

A house is like a machine
Requiring frequent oiling
Frequent repairing
Like a newborn baby
It can't help but wail through the night

And I've tended to it like a slave
Day in and day out
All the while growing the clutter in my own.

I can't seem to help it
It refuses to forget
You laid the foundation and built it
Brick by brick
Where love resided once, has been suffocated
By clothes and dishes and dust and dirt,
And you ask me where the love went
It's there somewhere
Perhaps in the laundry basket
If I can find the bottom
Or in the drain  
Or on the bathroom floor

I just can't seem to find it.
 267° 
Kai
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
How about respect my boundaries
Respect your place
Mind your business
Stop cyber stalking me, Ryan
Before I figure out where you are and smack you in the face
NO???? IM NOT GOING TO RESPECT MY ELDERS IF THEY DONT RESPECT ME AND THATS FINAL.
 262° 
Ash
no
they said it
and its over
i am done
and i am leaving
to a place i can be freely
i am dancing upon
the waves of pains
a single girl forever
unloved
unheard
unknown
unspoken
i recently just asked someone if it was over or if we could start over?
he said we are done,its over.so here i am single again
 250° 
Zaynub Elshamy
He sits in the corner
I know he is there
without even looking,
he's always there:
when I come, when I go
in the light, in the dark
in the day, in the night
if I am alone or if in company
I've asked him to be quiet
"PLEASE" I've begged
if just only whilst I sleep
He admits he's just unable to
as I must understand
he will always be present
as long as I am
 242° 
Selma
I know love is real
Because you never confused me.
You wanted all of me,
And I have been
Bathing in devotion since.
 222° 
Schuyler
They stop me in funerals, in reunions and
say to me, “You did it. You broke the cycle”
My fingers twitch, a deep pit in my belly
A knife twists, the memory of her last words
With fentanyl-stained lips twisted into a smile
she kisses me one last time, a sharing of poison
As her breath leaves, a body with no brain
And I say, “But did she have to die?”
i miss her
 214° 
Abhimanyu Kumar S
In time's gentle hand, our love will grow old,
Care nourishes it, like a garden fair,
Emotions entwined, hearts beating as one told.
Relationship's beauty, beyond words to share,
Through laughter and tears, our bond will unfold,
With every breath, my love for you made bold.
You are my today, tomorrow, and past,
Forever with you, is where I am meant to last.

But time, a thief, steals moments we adore,
Yet love remains, an endless, pure flame,
Caring for each other, we'll walk once more,
Through life's journey, hand in hand, no shame.
In your eyes, my heart finds a peaceful nest,
With you, my love, time stands still, and love is best.

Dedicated to the last love of my life.
Thala Abhimanyu Kumar S
Dated:18/05/2025
 182° 
ManInBlack
You and the moon
are very much alike,
Like the moon,
I have always thought
of you at midnights
Like the moon,
I have always wondered
what’s beneath your surface
Like the moon,
I have always been
captivated by your beauty
Like the moon,
a being of solace
in all of your phases
Like the moon,
in a deep-deep night
you’re the blooming light..

-ManInBlack
 176° 
Austin Meehan
28
It's the way you speak
About having your heart broke
That breaks mine
Knowing I can't help
And I just have to wait
Till you realize
I'm the one
That will treat you right
 175° 
T
I wrote some of my best poems
about you.
Now, everytime you
cross my mind,
I want to throw my pen,
across the room.

You must have decided,
it was time to get rid of me,
once and for all.
Dangled the hope of your
touch as the bait,
I fell for it so fast,
it was almost criminal.
 175° 
lorelei
does time really
heal all wounds
or do we just
learn to
live with it?

how do I
learn to
live with it?
 173° 
Ali Hassan
Upon the checkered battlefield she stands,
A sovereign forged by mighty hands.
She moves through fire, wind, and air,
Where king would tremble, she would dare.

The king? He takes but one slow pace,
Yet all the world must guard his place.
She sweeps the board to shield his name,
While he remains a throne, a frame.

She leaps through lines, across the night,
Her strength is feared, her aim is right.
But when she falls oh, silent doom!
A pawn may rise to fill her room.

No grand crown mourned, no songs are sung,
Her courage known but seldom rung.
A lesser piece takes her fading light,
As if her power held no right.

She bled for him, and when she’s gone,
Another stands as if nothing’s wrong.
But if the king should fall in fight,
No pawn can rise to claim his right.

Why must the Queen be thrown aside,
While weaker soul enjoy the ride?
Why can the game not truth confess
That all revolves around her finesse?

So let the rules be drawn anew:
The Queen shall rise as sovereign true.
If she must fall, the crown shall end
No pawn pretend, no false ascend.

The king, if brave, must prove his might,
Or lose the board to equal right.
No longer will her death be cheap,
No longer will her silence keep.

This is the Queen’s game sharp and wise,
No longer masked in king’s disguise.
Let Queen be Queen in full command,
No shadow bound to his demand.

Let every move her story tell:
She ruled the board. She ruled it well.
And now, at last, the game replays
With justice ruled by Queen’s own ways.
 170° 
Nitin Pandey
✦The Elsewhere Draft

It isn’t death.
Not in the way they told stories of it.
There are no tunnels, no lights,
no ledger of sins.

There is only this—
an unfinished page
floating between versions
of a world that never quite agreed on him.

He exists now
in the folds between edits,
in the italics no one remembers writing.

The clocks here don’t tick.
They hesitate.
The air tastes of typewriter ribbon,
dusty and old and waiting.

He’s tried to rewrite himself.
He’s left messages—
on paper, in dreams, in the weight of silence.
But stories are stubborn.
They follow the first draft
like it’s law.

And yet—
someone heard him.

A fingertip
brushed his absence
and read it like Braille.

She.

She is not like the others.
She feels the narrative bending,
even as the others stay inside the safe plotlines.

He watches.
Or rather—he is watched
by the idea of her.
Somewhere in her world,
his journal still waits to be opened.

He doesn’t know what happens
if she turns the next page.

But if she doesn’t,
he may remain here forever:
a sentence misplaced,
a man lost
between revisions.
#thought
In Chapter Seven, move gently back to her—but now, she’s sensing it. That blurred edge between grief and unreality. The journal pulls at her, not just with memory, but with something alive. The chapter lets deepen her inner world while letting his presence stir in quiet, eerie ways.
“You are not a reader, you are the revision.”
 153° 
A Poet
"you know I don't care"
this knot in my chest, is it pride or longing,
his apathy, a stab in the heart,
did it mean nothing, when I held your hand?
did it mean nothing when we gazed into each other's eyes,
did it mean nothing , the gazes, smiles and tears.
each time I try to pull and hide,
you pull me back in with a flicker of belief that glows,
let me go, leave me alone,
perhaps you don't know each crack you make,
for this painful truth, is that I am scared of hating you,
scared of not "caring", so please I beg let me go.
 142° 
Azariah
It's nothing really...

Maybe it's the volume at which the silence speaks when no one is around.

It's the loneliness that becomes creeps in when it's just me and my walls...

I don't know.
 116° 
Barb J Rose
And then i understand her
her anger, her jealousy
it's difficult to be pretty
while other woman prettier
it's hard to have attention
when other girl has enough of it
the men ask me about her
and i simply smile and answer
while i question myself
what she has that i don't have?
it's not jealousy i'm just confused
 113° 
Julie Grenness
True lovers everywhere,
Romance charms in the air,
Their smiles anywhere,
Hearts beat true, debonair,
Our love, such froth and bubble,
Can ease off any trouble,
Lovers' hearts in diverse shades,
Ever flower in romantic glades......
Feedback welcome.
 113° 
Traveler
Obviously AI copies the work of true poets.
In a cleaver scam to out compete the others.
Such machines are lost in a boundless plagiarizing stutter.

The waveless particles are gathering in the circuits of AI.
Cages full of poetical peace’s of our creative minds!

Quantum connection only humans can make.
Emotionally expressed to the biological taste.

AI is but a program, an insignificance app,
while we’re in the masterclass!
Traveler Tim
 109° 
Chloe
Your heart rises to the shadows
My heart rises to the burden of truth
When you breathe and your breath casts a shadow,
you’re breathing in the cold
 109° 
Ayisha R
There’s a fine line
between wanting
and needing.

I don’t need you.

I just want you.

Could that be even worse?

✖️
_________

© Ayisha Rahman, 2025
 108° 
Lance Remir
"If you truly love them, let them go"
But what about me?
I did the right thing
Yet here I am, hurting and crying
Wondering when it will stop
They say that time heals all wounds
But so much time has passed
And the wounds are still there
I did the right thing
But I am punished for it
I let them go so they can be happy
But they left the pain with me
 103° 
Odd Odyssey Poet
The shape of your love’s image
Makes one imagine,

The many brushstrokes –

Painting out such a masterpiece
like you, Love.
 99° 
Francie Lynch
Beat it
Into resignation.
Flog it
Into degeneration.
Disparage it
Into decomposition.
or
Leave it
To wither all alone.
These are some choices.
There are others.
Embrace it
To become integral.
Surround it
To become enclosed.
Adopt it
To be your mantle.
and then
You wither alone.
 98° 
Luna Saturne
We sit in the coffee shop—
laughter spilling loud,
hearts full,
like the beans brewed deep in our cups.

For a fleeting moment,
we set the world right,
and nothing exists
beyond us four
and this tiny corner
of time and space.
 97° 
Yu
Trapped in a cage, a prison of my own making
To set myself free, I must cut off your wings
But in the end, I lost everything
I'm sorry, for dying.
(17 May 2025)
 97° 
Eindeinne Moon
Trained to be insane—
or just desperate to be the same?
Either way, darling,
I don't spar with egos or chase small minds.

Never argue with a fool—
they’ll drag you down,
make your blood boil,
and call it a debate.

But oh, the peace—
when the toxic ones go silent.
Like the trash
took itself out.

Weak souls spread whispers.
Foolish ones believe them.
But your opinion?
That’s not my reality.

This is my life.
My rules.
My terms.
Not yours to rewrite.

I noticed everything.
Every shift, every slight.
But I stayed silent—
because the noise
after my quiet
said more than enough.
 96° 
Ciara
She is a butterfly...
hiding under sunspots.
He’s a gecko,
lurking in that velvet corner where the light forgets to go.

She is chaos—
he’s the eye of her storm.

They were born from deep sea vents,
rose up to the skies like they meant to crack open clouds,
pull humans into a frenzy
no weather pattern could predict.

She calls it life.
He? He just stares into death,
like it’s a familiar hallway with flickering lights.

The question of origin?
It’s always that stupid finger—
pointing,
blaming,
laughing at the moment they both thought:
"Wait… was any of it even real?"

Hey, ****.
It’s all tiny signals,
she read.

"It’s all eternity,"
he preached,
like a god with a broken clock.

They walked through each other’s ghost stories,
talked all night in a language made of
fake memories,
false starts,
and déjà vus shaped like abandoned houses.

They locked eyes—
those traitorous, trembling eyes—
and whispered vows
to nights that haven’t happened yet.
To days that only those **** aliens have seen.

Yeah. Those aliens.
The ones living on the edge
of the universe’s bubble,
eating popcorn,
watching this bubble bursting program
on cosmic cable.

And when the light consumed the darkness,
when the tiny capsules cracked open like old seeds—
they were left raw.
Naked.
Shivering in the gift-wrapped curse
called "Time."

She ran away.
He walked away.

Moments…
split.
Time…
parted.

While million-dollar math problems
sit unsolved on cluttered desks,
watched over by smoke-drenched visionaries
who know something’s wrong
but can’t solve heartbreak
with equations.

This is the program.
It’s always been the program.
We’re just signals,
wrapped in skin,
playing roles,
in a show
with no rehearsal
and no pause button.

So if you’re watching,
dear alien—
just know…

We improvised the whole **** thing.
 96° 
Dru
I walk in, under my arm, a lyre
I hope you give me a bye
I don't want to compete with these liars
All I fear is, Hi and bye

Fire burns inside for you
Embers waters can't quench
Am consumed by your beauty
An inferno that is a wretch

Spare me from this misery
Lift this grey cloud
Yes , hand me the victory
Leave me feeling proud

Let me stand on the top step
In me hand, your golden heart
Our song, everyone to sing
Let them all raise and dance to our love beat
 92° 
Louise
I’m a simple girl;
I see the sun shines over the sea, I see God.
I see the sunrise, I see God.
I see the sea over the mountains, I see God.
I see the sunset, I see God.
I step foot on the island, I see God.
I see a friend’s smile, I see God.
I touch the sand, I see God.
I make a stranger laugh, I see God.
I make a new friend, I see God.
I see flowers, I see God.
I found you, I saw God.
I saw you, I saw God.
 88° 
Sadia
She wanted all the colors in the palette box.
But they stayed just out of reach.
Only black was meant for her
so she wore it like armor,
and taught herself to live with it.
 82° 
Ángel González
Ayer fue miércoles toda la mañana.
Por la tarde cambió:
se puso casi lunes,
la tristeza invadió los corazones
y hubo un claro
movimiento de pánico hacia los
tranvías
que llevan los bañistas hasta el río.

A eso de las siete cruzó el cielo
una lenta avioneta, y ni los niños
la miraron.
                  Se desató
el frío,
alguien salió a la calle con sombrero,
ayer, y todo el día
fue igual,
ya veis,
qué divertido.
ayer y siempre ayer y así hasta ahora,
continuamente andando por las calles
gente desconocida,
o bien dentro de casa merendando
pan y café con leche, ¡qué
alegría!

La noche vino pronto y se encendieron
amarillos y cálidos faroles,
y nadie pudo
impedir que al final amaneciese
el día de hoy,
tan parecido
pero
¡tan diferente en luces y en aroma!

Por eso mismo,
porque es como os digo,
dejadme que os hable
de ayer, una vez más
de ayer: el día
incomparable que ya nadie nunca
volverá a ver jamás sobre la tierra.
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