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Jon York Jan 2019
Do You know....the last time I was
excited to wake up was when you
were in my life.

The  last  time  I  felt  like  life  had  
wonder,or  exc­itement or  happiness  
to  it.....
--- was  when  you were  in  my life.

It's  like --- no  matter  the  weather
---   every  day  feels  like  winter.

And I keep waiting for summer to
comeback,  but  it  never  does.

Most  things feel out  of place these
days,  especially  me.

My  thoughts  were  destroying me.  
I tried  not  to think, but  the silence  
was a  killer too. I was murdered by
my own mind.

      But  I've  changed  irrevocably,
permanently.  My  soul  is   richer
and  my and my heart  is  fuller  in
brokenness than  it was without. I've
learned  true despair, and  it's made  
me  learn  to  appreciate   true  joy.

                                                     ­                            Jon York   2019
Nessa Aug 2016
My life has changed... I feel cold... Alone.. And upset... I cry silently.. I dont know how to move on and im trying i really am but i just dont know how. I feel something in my heart that i cant explain. Its like a physical pain but medicine doesn't work. My birthday is coming up and its hard to picture any celebration without you.
My head hurts from missing you and sometimes crying. I know time will make it easier but noone talks about the "right now"... Part of me was amputated the day you left

My heart weighs a ton yet its empty. Losing you has been tough although thats an understatement... Its been less than 48 hrs and i have at least 3 things to tell you already.. Who do i tell? I re-read our texts over and over and i smile because i have no regrets. You kno what you mean to me and i sure know wat i meant to you. I even have u tatted on me forever. We did so many firsts together and this.... This right here we were supposed to do together too... But you left me...

You never think that the last time is the LAST time. These emotions come in waves. One minute im okay the other minute all these emotions come rushing and its overwhelming. The minute i think im alright it just starts all over again. I dont know how to handle it but i do know that time will make it easier to cope with.

Some people know what you really meant to me. Others may say she was just your 2nd cousin. But... I've lost my best friend. Yes she was my cousin but thats at the bottom of the list bc blood couldnt make us any closer. She was my ride or die. Usually i was the one always arguing on her behalf tho bc she didnt have a quick enough comeback ever. My partner in crime, My confidante who knew everything and i mean everything even the TMI stuff. My comadre, i still dont kno what to tell the kids... And they just mentioned you today. My heart shattered in that moment. She was just my person...

I can only wish everyone in this world can experience the bond like the one i had with her. The ties that bond us are impossible to explain. Our bond defied distance, time, or location because we were just meant to be.

Because you are my person and will always be my person... I love you

Me duele el alma..
It's a mystery to note
that despite how advanced in age we are
still we earnestly strive to survive, preserve
at all costs this physical entity

My sister, Vivien and I
watched vicariously
as our 91 year old Father
tubes plugged in every orifice and cavity
sat gripping the edge of his hospital bed
gasping for air

We didn't know it then, but he was suffering
a mild heart attack
mentally, tenderly we massaged
his Spirit with prayers

I thought to myself
how difficult it is to convince yourself
that you are not this body
while warm blood and passions rush
through veins and brick by brick
from birth we carefully construct,
insulate, protect, pamper and cater to
the whims and demands of this
terra firma

I stared numbly as hospital staff
wheeled Dad away for further tests
Emergency room visits were
fast becoming a regular ritual
Intravenous bags hang
heavy black nimbus clouds
stingily dispensing one last drop of mortality

my heart a stone sinking in my chest
plummeted with a thud into a bottomless
inky pool
so many poignant, familial memories
rowing merrily across the paper thin
surface of Life's fragile dream

I could sense my mother's intangible presence
close by  
soft brown sepia eyes gazing tenderly
through the partially drawn diaphanous veils
chariots swinging low

father's condition is stable now
though they released him for the holidays
the appellation, "Comeback Charlie"
our nickname for his extraordinary
resilience and vigor
didn't have quite the same ring
something missing, that spark, stolen
reflected in hollow, vacant
jack-o-lantern eyes

I prayed as we prepared a tropical
fruit basket to cheer him up
that he would clearly see
an Angel not a thief
standing eternally by his side
Infamous one Sep 2013
You claim to love me why are you leaving
I may not be the one why is there someone else
You hurt me with lies my heart hurts and cries out
Who can I trust when all we had was a lust
You moved on I stay away when I start over you try to comeback and stay
Hou put me in a pickle I just want to be safe
Mess with my mind want what was instead of realizing what's going on now
You go with someone who has money been through so much all I can do is appreciate life
Moving on to better not expecting you to comeback if I said I love you you'll never feel the way I do turns out you were never true
Double King Dec 2020
You chose me first.
We spent and treasure memories together.

I saw how your eyes sparkled the time we met.
I took care of you.
I offered home to your homeless heart,

We spent hundreds of night together with each other's embrace.
We walked together, watching every footsteps we left on the sand that we walked on.

I care, you don't.
I just realised, I assume.

Your eyes never sparkle that way to her when you saw me.
But her, you do.

I let go of your hand that ties our fate;
I'll let go, but I wish you would feel guilt
And comeback to me.
I hope that's the reality.

I made myself believe that you'll turn around,
Chase me and hug me like you did before,
But you never did.
Bobcat Mar 2018
Don't call it a comeback
My depressions been here for years
I still smoke myself to sleep
And calm my anxiety with 3 or more beers

It's just goes to show
That I should stay in my lane
I stare at the bottom of an empty bottle
Just to focus on something other than pain

I knew it'd come back
I knew it was too good to be true
Depression isn't a state of mind
It's something that controls you

You would think I'd be used to it
And that it'd get a little easier
But I really didn't see this coming
It must be getting sneakier

I don't care about punctuation
I don't give a **** about my grammar
The only reason I'm doing this
Is to try to feel a little better

It used to work, ya know
To keep my demons at bay
Now it's starting to feel like work
Because I have all these people watching what I say

I guess you can say it's my fault
Since I'm the one that posted them online
Maybe I'm just not meant to have something as simple as a peace of mind.
Bassam A Dec 2014
Please re-read as I will be making changes to this poem over and over

I want to tell you something
I am a man who loves changes

Changes of everything

You will see me suggest
A change in every retrospect

This morning I was re-reading
my own HP site and I was impressed

by my choices and how I ended up
With 3 different reposts of "My Fears"

from 3 different poets
that I reposted without me knowing

It's amazing how I am amazed
of my choices and have read them
like as if I am choosing them again

Now hear out my new suggestion
To HP and if you do like
Please make your voice be heard

It goes as follows:

If you like to relive the poetry
and you like to re-read your choices

and you like to reread the poems
you chose before once more

and get surprised while reading them
as if you did not choose them before

Then, we either need a second love button!  Or

we need to automate the love button
and every time we reread it knows

and the love gets even stronger
and somehow it grows

Another suggestion that hit me in the head while I was re-writing my poem

"The new suggestion is to give a comeback wink
to the previous folks who just read my poem
and ping them of my new important fix
To invite them to re-taste the cake that I just re-cooked

Or the cooking does not get posted
Until I feel its real good

and I press the release button
Before I let it go like I should

And may be we need to check our poem button with people that we trust

Before we embarrass ourselves badly
with a poem that may bust"

The problem with this is honesty
That we don't do it for just the fame

So for this I need your opinion to fix
my suggestion in playing the game

and make HP an even a better place
and enjoy it again and again!

Additional suggestions to HP:

please fix the current suggestions which is still lit even when I fixed my suggested misspellings. .. Call it repair
* a suggestion button to HP in the menu
* a share with others button that can grow .. You can click and see who I shared it with ... it can also be private
* a playback button ... Reads out loud
* a favorite button .. Quickly adds it to your favorites
* a read later button
* by double clicking a word you can ping the poet for a misspelling or a suggestion of a new word or love that word
* a unite with another poet button
* Go Interactive button .. Others can re-write your poetry!
* a challenge button .. Encourage challenge with another poet
* a marry me button .. which starts with an enragement ring ..
*friends .. siblings and brothers and family button ... they have to accept you as a family member!
Please don't forget to look below for other suggestions from other poets!
Firdausy S Jun 2015
I think we need to stop
thinking that one day
they are going to comeback
and give us the apology
we deserve
because life is not a movie
and sometimes there is
no closure with endings
so we need to hop over
that bridge and let it go
**let it go and move on for
life is not always a fairytale
Dougie Simps Jul 2016
Think it's time to finish this story
Time to tell what has haunted me inside
Of 27 years of suffering
Staring back at another man inside
You've scared me for so long
I no longer want to run and hide
My reflection is what truly
Makes me terrified
I've asked myself questions
Since I was little, I've always asked why?
How can a man not love something
That's half of him and deny
The fact that pain will and forever
Last in this little boy's lies
Saying he's okay
When inside he's dark and so distant
Amongst so many people who love him
But his whole life he's felt so different
Wanting to just grow...
But the idea of you causes his resistance
He's never just came out and said it
What was wrong with me that you did so much wrong!?
Why couldn't I be proud of who I was!?
Why did you let me see what you did to mom?
Do you know what you've done?
Can you understand what you put me through?
Mind hasn't been the same
Since dealing and learning about you
Hatred turned my heart
So dark and so full of pain
My life has been confusing
At times I feel like my mind is insane
I won't ever stop asking
The question of "why am I half of you?"
I understand I took the qualities
That makes me nothing like you
But my cheeks soak my tears still
And I get these moments where I feel I can't hold on
I thank those men in my life
Who helped replace you and keep me so strong
But there is a scar that I...know will never heal
I know that life teaches you how
To make better from the cards that he deals
So for the first time in my life
I forgive you!
Please let me move on!
You've taken so much from us
But mommy and I are too strong
We've gained peace of mind now
And clarity has finally found our hearts
This piece is just for me to tell you
I'm not son and we're so far apart
I've brought joy to the people
Who love me and see me for myself
I've grown into a man
Who guides those who may need that help
I've become the person you weren't
And the man I'm proud to be...
A part of me will always wonder...
What was it that was wrong with me?
You'll never understand the...
Moments That I've grown from your misery
The first key is acceptance
Then I've learned to love my reflection
A little boy crying out loud
A man who brings him protection
So dear father I...
I wanna tell you this as the truth
Anyone can be a father but just being a dad is something you couldn't even do
Your name has haunted me
It's brought blood straight to my eyes
Your ways have brought to my heart
27 years of living a lie
I'm freezing my soul now
And getting past what I never thought I could do
Mommy told me this and I believe it now
I'm not a single part of you.
So dear bland Simpkins you better hear me
Listen to every word that I say
This piece has allowed me to officially be free now
My honesty has finally pushed you away
Thank you for teaching me
Lessons that will help propel my life
Who I'm becoming is a blessing
And I'm doing all I can right
So the man in the mirror I shatter your reflection
I smile and tell you this eye to eye
Thank you for everything
Thank you for showing me how to never be that kind of guy
Dear father, dear dad, dear donor
This is my freedom - this is my final piece - this is forever...goodbye.

(Please never comeback - I'm free now)
This was hard - I cried a lot and honestly..,felt every word. This was for me and anyone out there who may of needed it. I've been trapped for 27 years and now I'm finally free. I've never felt so liberated and so happy. Goodbye forever - hello to tomorrow
there was a little elf a funny little chap
he wore a bright green suit and a funny cap
he lived in the woods in a little shack
he just loved to roam along the forest track.

oneday on his travels he heard a little sigh
there he saw a badger who began to cry
elf he asked the badger why he was so sad
i have lost my stripes he said the only ones i had.

dont worry said the elf i know what to do
i will cast a spell get them back for you
elf he cast his spell. he had his stripes once more
now he was so happy just like he was before.

they strolled off together along the forest track
badger he was happy his stripes they had comeback
now they both are friends to this very day
now they have a friendship that will never go away
Michael-Angelo Dec 2019
I only like you in the moonlit night, for time with you in the daylight is nice, but the moon brings out a sparkle in your eyes only the dim soft light from the moon can bring the stars shine up above, but the moon cries when you sleep, it waits for dusk to turn off her light, to play a moonlit serenade, dance with me, walk with me under the moonlit night, take my hand and let me be lost in your smile and sparkle in your eyes, I'll wait for eternity lost in love till you comeback and dance with me in that romantic night we fell in love, as I only like you in the moonlit night.
I am wandering in the grove.
From out of the darkness
Christopher John appears perched
on an old ash stump
giving a speech about Robert Mitchum
and his performance in Farewell, My Lovely.
I want to say "right on",
but my voice only whimpers.
He doesn't notice me in the shadows.
I close my eyes and his voice fades to a whisper,
then nothing.
My thoughts drift along to pictures of liberty concerned porcupines.
-
I am wandering in the grove.
Against the shady walnut
Elby Marcellous husks the meat from a shell
and tosses it to his canvas shoed feet.
"You ought'learn a trade kid, it'll save yer ***."
His mouth never moves.
A *****, navy blue sweat suit; fruit of the loom.
Hundreds of construction paper stars
glued to a bedroom wall,
and a legacy of tall tales and unrequited favors
for the train hopping rambling man.
Comeback Jack, come back Jill.
-
I am wandering in the grove.
My house slippers were not the best choice of shoes.
There is plenty of mud from the gather dew,
and the rocks are jagged and unforgiving.
The Sylvan's planted the trees here,
Roger and I dug the holes by hand,
Roberta watered them each with care.
The Eastern-kin cut a lot of them down
to help feed their Dionysian pyres.  
At least they left the mulberries,
so the birds still get their colors in the spring.
The songs need the full prism to translate properly.
-
I am wandering in the grove.
There she is.
My feet were tugging me due west the entire time,
I could feel it.
And there she is,
underneath the sycamore like a sore thumb.
I want to cry, I want to run,
but the song comes crooning out.
It is our instinct to dig our nails in
and tear each other apart from the bone,
but we sing the refrain, paralyzed,
feet tied to the ground with pyrite bands.
-
red, orange, yellow
I'm seventeen, long-haired, and screaming my lungs out.
green, blue, violet
I'm throwing verbal punches from sixty-two miles away.
red, orange, yellow
There's no where to be, and no one to impress.
green, blue, violet
Two cities weave troubling stories well.
Everything shifts to ethereal indigo,
things shake around a bit, but nothing seems to be any different.
I awake, rid of my flaxen shackles, but bruised.
The scent of thirteen perfumes linger in the breeze.
-
I am wandering in the grove.
A quilt tied to my neck for a cape,
serves as a warm shield against the cold night.
I found a rusty lantern, half-filled with oil and
with working wick, I venture on.
There is a crunch of brown-red leaves with every step
that I take in song-less stride.
The moon is new, the deer are charged in estrus.
Every creature I happen upon is speaking
in some strange tongue to which I cannot comprehend.
I try to motion that my hunger has become dire,
but no eyes are lifted, no responses given.
-
"Hurry now, no time to dawdle,
we have to make it to market before
they sell all of the livestock, and the farmers
decide to call it a day; no naive pockets."
-
"That rotten boy was a **** from the placenta,
and his mother was a crystalline chimera
made from chemicals in one of those zygote-vats.
Nothing was natural from that household; that bloodline."
-
"The day will come when we need a place to go,
but we can't ever go down the winding path
or Mama-Bog will come crawling out of the mud
and take away your sister like she did Papa."
-
"My eyes saw what I would never believe again;
the town was gone. Not destroyed, not missing,
not packed up and on it's way, but gone.
The **** place had never been there to begin with."
-
"There was once a planet between Mars and Jupiter
that was the home of a peculiar race of fungus.
The planet was bombarded by a multi-nation nuclear strike
when the fungus was found to secrete [OMITTED]."
-
"No, my sister left about three months ago, mister.
Said she was headin' into the city to try and get a job waitressin'.
If she were to just up and leave the quadrant she'd say something,
or at least update her ping location on her bio-input; sheesh, guy!"
-
I am wandering in the grove
and the trees are weighed down with ripened fruit.
Muninn and Huginn take flight.
Tap on the stained glass windows of the cathedral
as if the hounds were nipping at your heels.
There was a time when wings alone were enough
now the game has change, the cards disguised.
No direct line to the big man.
tlp
Aroody Apr 2016
What else do you want?  
I'm already so ruined,
Yet too cheeky of me,  
To as you to comeback,  

Since distance stepped  in between,
And my eyes have forever been,
Constantly rain and flood,
My heart lost reason to pump blood,

I want you now I need you now,
Direct me towards yourself tell me how,
A heart I possess from all the world,  
I'll exchange it for a hand to hold,  


Please..... consider coming back!


© AROODY2016
When you really miss someone so much!!!
You will have to excuse me
This will definitely not be my best work.  
I was sort of blindsided.
This poetry café is not normal,
And as you could imagine
I had a hard time writing something hype
This was unexpected.
But sometimes the best things come out of unexpected moments.
A faint cheer in a cloud of fear.
Sometimes there are times where you can’t expect a thing.
So I guess this poem is supposed to be about believing we can do it.
I think we all know we can.
But sometimes even the strongest people fall.
Confidence is great, but ignorance is not.
We are not indestructible.
In fact, failure is inevitable.
The bigger picture is often obscure.
But if one is lucky enough to prevail
It seems as if they sail,
While the rest watch wondering,
What happened to us in which we couldn’t go that far?
We all have a jealous part of us.
We all have those feelings in which we are not proud.
Humanity is sometimes just as evil as it is beautiful.
If we look at history,
It seems to be crowded with pain and unfathomable mistakes.
But pain is not what it takes.
Don’t get me wrong
Life is no fantasy.
There is no magic.
No genies to make our dreams come true.
Instead we have to work hard for the things we get
And sometimes more often than not, we lose what we work so hard to build.
And I know, I know
I can hear it
What the hell am I talking about?
I’m not hitting the theme at all.
And I’m not, or am I?
Because yes we are going to fail
It is impossible not to.
But in fact when we fail,
We have just as big a chance to make a comeback.
Yes that failure leaves us cussin and fussin
But in reality that big picture that once looked obscure
Becomes just a bit clearer now that we have failed.
We cannot go on living life thinking we know everything because there is no room to learn.
If you want to believe that you can do something
You have to prove it to yourself before you tell others.
It starts with you.
You are the beginning of your story,
And you will be there to see the end.
You are present through all of your story.
That is important.
So you know how if you get into an argument
And you say, “You don’t know me”
Well who does know you?
No one truly knows you but yourself.
So you are the only one who can take you where you want to go.
So if you want to go far
You have to get yourself there.
And to get yourself there
You have to be willing to put in the work to get there.
So it’s up to you whether or not you can make it.
It’s your choice to believe that you can do it.
Because in the end
You will be the one to fly, or catch yourself when you fall.
I can stand here and tell you cliché
Don’t do drugs and never smoke,
Or I can simply tell you that the choice is yours.
An inspiring pep talk is only a pep talk
This poem is just a poem.
It’s up to you if you listen to me and what I’m saying
It’s also up to you to criticize my every word.
You can do anything.
But anything can be good or bad.
It’s your choice.
No one is stopping you,
And if they do,
Who cares?
Because they don’t know you, right?
It’s up to you.
Choose to succeed or fall
Either way,
*You can do it.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
A trinity of three styles one man no religion one morning over a lifetime

Temporary (we tat too)

Temporary love
has no precision definition
so if I say
love you forever,
as I do,
know know
just know
this particular
phrase
is temporary,
unique and forgivable

as temporary
as our permanent tattoo,
the one embellishing you,  
the one marking me,
the two hearts tat
that means
we are a
tat two

If you begin a poem,
a love, a tat
with temporary,
usually, but not always,
you have already failed

See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-you-begin-a-poem-with-i/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Invalidation

my living bones, twisted.
my words, slurred,
disfigured with a panache,
that makes the mirror
turn away, ashamed

invalid. in valid.

I have been invalidated,
I spit at your too late heroics,
unwanted.
I spit at myself,
for missing the moment,
when choice was mine

I would have self-destructed, freely,
reborn in an act of self-validation,
be my own living will,
if only I had not been enslaved to my
*******
Fear

invalidation, the Cain mark of every failed man

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bootyoir

three day weekend has commenced.
it's con-occlusion
now in rapid descent
mini-vacation, ****-sensation.

the only question remaining,
present but debated,
as yet undecided,
whose turn is it
to answer
the doorbell,
when the delivery guy
brings our break~fast

for it is forbidden,
a transgress,
to egress
from the bootyoir,
except for the
call of nature,
and naturally,
I am calling
you,
comeback comeback
hungry time
it's time we
co-authored some
bootyoir poetry
Temporary: for A.M., written yesterday morning, from a life of learning that sometimes temporary is best when you know its permanent, and sometimes permanent is thankfully, only temporary.

Invalidation:  from years ago, when my now ex, who made me miserable for thirty years, after having left me, tried to get back together.

Bootyoir:  this morning, the last of a three day weekend.
Ruth Miranda Oct 2010
Taking hold of me, while I'm moving through the ear
That is the way you love is...that is the way I feel.
uncertain are the plans that you have for me
but still I'm here, excited about unpredictable things
still here, trying to reach places where I've never been
walking.... back and forth....looking for what has been promised,
Hoping to see what has been expected.

Sometimes I have decided to leave, not to eat
Sometimes I've gone away, run, escaped
but I always comeback where strong feelings are found
I always comeback where I feel like a child.

I've promised,
I've told you that I will certainly do what you deserve
I've said  that I will follow you wherever you go
But today, on my knees,  I will ask you to see
what is not easy to observe
I'm asking you to cover my heart, mind and body with your strength
and  pour your love into my heart
God, today, I'm asking you.
by Tutinea ©
David Bojay Jan 2014
People have different definitions of joy, and I can honestly to say that you are my joy.
I’ve never been so proud of my joy.
With everything that goes wrong in the world, there’s always the sun shining in the dark.
When I think of the sun enlightening people’s souls, I think of you making everything easier for me.
I feel cold at this moment, and it’s not the weather.
I could be outside naked, it could 0 degrees, and I still wouldn’t feel this cold.
I want to be your first and last kiss.
I want to be your everything.
Everything that makes me happy, I share to my world.
I share to you in other words.
My world is filled with soft green grass and the idea of it makes me tremble.
The tears of tonight will remain until the day you comeback.
I wonder what you’re doing right now, its 7:49 pm, and I’ll probably do things in between while typing this.
I hope you’ll still wake up and think to yourself that I’m yours, because I am.
And I’ll be yours until the sun doesn’t give out light anymore.
I’ll still wake up with hope, because you’re in my soul, my heart, and mind.
You’re my hope.
I’m sorry if you get teary.
If so, my intentions are only to make you happy.
Like always, everything for you that I do is to make you happy.
Even if I’m not there with you, I hope I’m in your soul, heart, and mind.
I know nothing will ever change between us, a few weeks from now we’ll be laughing, hugging, and kissing.
I’ll be taking you flowers to your doorstep, and I’ll be taking you out on dates.
We’ll get on train rides, and we’ll fall even more in love under the stars in Dallas.
When I heard you cry, I shattered, everything for one split second seemed impossible.
My voice started to crack and I felt like a new born baby.
I was so confused on who I was, I started to cry.
I never want to make you cry again.
The only time I want to see you cry is when I slip on that ring on our wedding day.
I’ve put so much thought into our future, the feeling when I do has never felt so right.
Never have I believe in something so true like you, I don’t need religion.
You’re all I need to believe in.
If you ever fall, I’ll be there to pick you up.
Even when I’m at my lowest, I’ll be there to pick you up.
Always remember, you’re not disappointing anybody.
I’m proud of everything you have accomplished.
I’m proud of you, and everything you have done.
There’s nothing to be disappointed about.
Trust me; I look up to you in so many ways.
You have inspired me to be the person that I am today.
I can’t improve on myself anymore.
Because you made me all that I am, and all that I ever want to be.
I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine.
Even though forever doesn’t exist, it sure does seem like it with you.
Our love seems like forever.
I know you and I will walk the streets of the city holding hands.
When we’re tired of walking we’ll sit somewhere, and I’ll kiss your forehead for reassurance that I love you at that moment, and every moment that we come across.
I love you.
It’s 8:11 pm and I’m still wondering what you’re doing.
I’m wondering what you’re thinking of.
I get jealous of your guitars, because they get to be on your arms every day.
I wish I could be your guitar forever.
I haven’t eaten since 11am, and I’m not hungry.
My throat feels weird for some reason, I’m disgusted by myself.
I feel like screaming, I think my neighbors heard my scream this afternoon.
I think my walls are hurt.
I think my mouth is tired of tasting the salty taste of my tears.
I think my knuckles numb.
I feel like a clock right now, moving but going nowhere.
The hands will always wind up in the same spot.
With you I go everywhere.
You’re the portal to somewhere that doesn’t exist that is peaceful.
I know I’ll be on your mind when you wake up and you know you’ll be on mine.
You and I both know.
I hope you’re happy.
As long as I know you’re mine and I know I’m yours I’m happy.
I hope you think the same.
I will always remember the face you made when I showed you the music on my iPod.
Your eyes were filled with amazement.
If I knew what love was back then I would’ve said I fell in love with the look in your eyes.
I will always remember.
Never forget that I will always remember.
Sometimes I think how we would look like when we’re older.
Other times I think of you, and the future.
For Christmas I’ll take you on a carriage ride in Dallas.
We can kiss in the seats we’re in.
Nothing has changed; I don’t think they ever will.
Nothing has felt so real.
Nothing will ever feel this real.
When I get my car over the summer we can sneak out together and go to IHop at 3am just as you wished a while back.  
After that we’ll go to Wal-Mart and act crazy in there.
I knew it’d get to this point of satisfaction.
Even though right now we’re not at our best, we both know we will be soon.
The day I held your hand at the fair, I meant it.
That was one of the greatest days in my life because I got to spend it with all of my friends and you.
It’s 8:32 pm and I’m wondering if I’ll still be awake at 3am like I always was.
Knowing I was your boyfriend made me sleep in peace.
I won’t sleep in peace until I am again in all honesty.
The person I am at 3 am is a very bad person.
But I’ll have you to think about, so everything will be fine.
I hear the TV from my room; usually I have music on to block it out.
It’s silent in my room right now, I wonder if it is in yours too.
Whenever you feel down listen to Baby I’m yours by Artic Monkeys.
Just for reassurance that everything will be okay.
Denisse, it’s been 1,098 words and this isn’t even the introduction to what I feel.
I know there will be better days ahead, because you’ll be in my future.
It’s 8:42 pm and it’s been an hour since I’ve been sitting on this chair typing this down, thinking.
I want to listen to music, but I’m playing back things you’ve said to me in my head that has made me feel the way I feel right now.
I remember when you used a pick-up line on me in 8th grade; it was something about you wanting a picture of me and some other stuff.
I’ll never forget that.
You would wear black pants, black vans, and a white dress shirt to the concerts while every other girl would wear skirts.
During the summer we should go to concerts and start mosh pits.
During this time I’ve been typing this I’ve wanted to cry, I don’t know.
I’ll probably sleep with my Bluetooth headphones tonight and connect it to my phone that will be in the living room.
I’ll have it on shuffle; I know I’ll cry to a few songs while I think of you.
I haven’t cried in a while.
You’re worth crying for.
It’s 8:57 pm and I’m going to go shower, plus I have to put my phone up.
I hate time.
I just got out the shower, I was just standing there.
It’s 9:30 pm and I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.
I love you so much, goodnight darling, my love.
Sweet dreams.
I hope this small journey through my mind.
I’ll do this every day just so you know I haven’t forgotten about you and that I’m here.
I’ll wait for you Denisse.
I love you, peace.
Benzene Apr 2021
SHE
love is the thing she need
but the world  has it's own greed

her eyes say it all
every time a drop of tear falls
every pain she recalls


everyone say she writes poetries  very deep
but no one know  her tear is the ink ,
her pain is her inspiration to write
that's why she cry to make herself sleep

one day she'll bounce back
and give the answer of your all attack
till then wait for her comeback.
may be I used this title many times .
Hope you all doing well
stay safe
because corona  in your  area
Alissa Rogers Dec 2017
One step forward,
two steps back.
Every day brings
another setback,
another backtrack,
another reminder
of the things I lack.
My mind never quiets,
I can't take the feedback.
An eternal panic attack,
I should double the Prozac,
it's making a comeback.
One step forward,
two steps back.
Jayantee Khare Dec 2018
The moments....

Slip like the sand
Never come back

Hurt like the eye dust
Pass like a caravan

Err in the seconds
Punish for years

Fluid like the streams
Yet stuck in breath

Fragrant like the flowers
Scatter like the petals

People say no comeback
Yet peep in the thoughts and dreams

रेत की तरह फिसलते लम्हे
लौट के कहाँ आ सके लम्हे

धूल की तरह आँख में चुभे
कारवां रहे गुज़रते  लम्हे

दी सज़ा मुझे साल की कई
बार बार क्यों ज़ुल्म करते लमहे

धार में बहे वक़्त की रवां
साँस में मग़र अटकते लमहे

महकते रहे फूल से खिले
पंखुड़ी बने बिखरते लमहे

लौटते नहीं लोग ये कहें
ख़ाब ख़्याल में झाँकते लम्हे

स्वरचित
जुगनु
Ghazal.....wrote and translated
Infamous one Jun 2013
ive been going back to a better time
collecting comics because it was a hobby when i was a child
i got a hacky sack it reminds me off my college days
******* wrestling fan rocking my tees
ready to go back to jui jitsu get my black belt
play a guitar making music release my soul through the sound
write to get it all out since i dont always have some to talk with
i dont quick making the comeback
learned to stay come not overreact
live strong be strong
be tough when things go wrong
An Uncommon Poet Sep 2014
a man overpowered as usual
but I don't want to confuse you
or make you delusional
you say I'm redundant
but ***** I love it
you can't resist me
although you claim you don't need me
believe me
you wouldn't live three days without me
don't doubt it
it's exhausting
poisonous like the fumes from your exhaust
it's diabolical until someone restrains me
stops and halts me
try to walk out the door
I dare you
it scares you
because you know you could never comeback
it'd be a failure like Kobe's comeback
March your *** out that door
sing a song if you need motivation
actually don't your voice causes degradation
and for me, just irritation
see ya later, Sianara
slam the door behind you,
it'd have more of a melody
what're you gonna do without me
you're insane hunny
don't play me like it's my issues
they could make issues on your issues
oblivious to your egotistical *******
can't bare it or hold it
even though it's big enough to be tangible
but too big for my shoulders to manage it
where's Dwayne Johnson and his Johnson
he'll need the extra hand to handle it
I guess what I'm trying to say is
I'd love it if you disappeared
became inexistent like your excuse for a commitment
I was out for a run
I stayed late for class
school of **** I'll take a guess
Is jack black there too?
did you beat the drum or blow the horn
you come home and ignore me
but when I try to leave or flip my ****
you adore me
you love to see the sweat of my brow
and the ache in my neck
my hand shake and lips quiver
you're that little sliver in my skin
the nail in my coffin
knife in my back
but hold on, relax
I'm bulletproof
armored and foolproof
you'd need a AK to halt my day
It's under my bed
grab it and try to point it at my head
I dare you,
you know you would have woken up Sunday
to it pointing at you in bed
Misfire after misfire
so much gunpowder and fumes started a fire
the house burned to the ground
til I turned around and saw standing silently
but making the loudest sound
silence and incompetence
isn't that what this relationship is like
constant fights, night after night
looking back at it I'm glad my life's not like that
but today is it debatable?
domestic violence, divorce and confinement
restraining orders, theft, drugs and alcohol
the intoxication of one man or woman
is enough to intoxicate you for more than a few hours
you lose all power
to control and live successfully
instead more drama then Johny drama
after an audition
in comparison most relationships nowadays
are like auditions and trials
approached in-denial
after this your life will be nothing more than a file
in the cabinet of let downs and losers
**** ups and collapses
stand up and figure your **** out
don't be a statistic
B Oct 2019
I think it’s time to say goodnight,
My words are no longer In flight,
There are many things I want to say,
But these rhymes are leading me astray,
So goodbye my friends just for now,
I’ll comeback one day when I’ve figured how!
Isabelle Jul 2017
It’s been a long time
Looks like it’s been a very very long time
It’s haunting me
Wanting to break free

I always leave
Then comes back
Sometimes it’s the other way around
(What’s the difference?)

I always stop
Then starts again
Sometimes it’s the other way around
(What’s the difference?)

It’s the tide, the high and low
Washes what’s on the shore
Then returns what I thought I already lost
-memories, emotions, words

I comeback then leaves, I start then stops
I am coming back, again and again
To free the emotions, the words
To meet the shore, where I always belong

It’s the waves of poetry
That brings me back, always
To my first love
**Writing
I always come back, but always not for good..

How I miss reading and writing. Sorry for the poor poem, it's my first write after what seems a very long time!
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
The snowman to the scarecrow, “Hahahaha you’re just a stick figure…. and your hair’s straw.”
The scarecrow to the snowman, “Watch who you talk about whenever you open your mouth, for all the coldness in your words will still melt to the ground along with you as soon as the sun comes out.”
Owned!
“You’re such a chump…” the snowman said… “…two words for your ancestry, tree stump.” the snowman said
“You’re fat… you have a carrot for a nose, and what’s up with that stupid green and red coloured hat?” said the scarecrow
Well played
“I work all year round… you’re here for a season, did you really think you could hold your ground against someone that is here for a reason?” the scarecrow added
The snowman cringed, but then had a comeback
“At least I don’t wear the same filthy clothes every day of the year… what? Are you trying to bring ‘brown’ back?”
Point for Snowman
“It’s better than being fat and going naked.” Scarecrow brought it back

Scarecrow is consistently winning right? I know… I know man!
If he made you a fan, stick around for an autograph… I will throw in mine too
For more on the war of words between these two
Watch this space for round two.
Yeah... don't ask why I wrote this or where it came from, I'm stumped too. **** voices in my head.
Raven Blue Jul 2020
I'm a witch;
Yes, I'm a witch.
I always fly with my broomstick;
To runaway from pain and sadness.
People say I curse princesses and make poisonous potions;
No, they're wrong,
Those are my medicines.
I make them for me to be okay and comeback to my senses.
Yes, I'm a witch;
And I'm not okay.
JJ Hutton Mar 2011
The air conditioner hiccups,
as the second half of
Cole Berlin crosses himself--
a face deeply creased by consequence,
looks to the west,
a surrendering sun fractured--
broken by hundreds of stories--
tons of concrete--
mountains of glass,
and the gentlest gloom.

Mr. Berlin's body devours itself--
as the critics and even the diehard fans
run out of time to play "remember when".
The reality enters,
at first no more than an annoying stomach pang,
then growing,
feasting,
shouting,
until each cell knows--
no time for the comeback.

Whatever beams of sun were once banded,
now dismiss themselves,
as night subs in--
Mr. Berlin, closes the curtains of his mind,
falls to the floor,
"Sorry folks, no encore this time".

A week he lay festering,
no more a replica--
only a ruin.
A fly in a web,
rotating on a world without end,
the record, it spits, skips, smolders in ditch,
contaminating the soil,
the virus gently purrs perfection,
no hiccup, no hallucination--
only swag up for collection.
© 2011 by J.J. Hutton
Gracie Anne Oct 2021
Yesterday I looked at myself in the mirror
And although I tried to take the advice given to me by my therapist
I was unable to find a single thing I might even just tolerate about myself.
Instead, my mind and heart raced each other, trying to see who would win the prize of defeating me
as I scan my naked body for each and every inconsistency and insufficiency.

You see my first memory of self hatred comes from a place most people could not predict.
Imagine me at six years old standing in the shower, so proud of myself
For finally graduating from the bathtub I had associated with childhood.
I had just finished reading “Falling Up” by Shel Silverstein.
And out of the more than 400 poems by this poet one stuck to my brain
Like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth after eating a PB&J.

Now if you’ll forgive me for getting off track for just this moment
I’d like to read you this poem entitled “Scale.”

“If I could only see the scale,
I’m sure that it would state
That I’ve lost ounces...maybe pounds
Or even tons of weight.
‘You’d better eat some pancakes-
You’re skinny as a rail.’
I’m sure that’s what the scale would say…
If only I could see the scale.”

If you’ve ever read a poem by Shel Silverstein you’d know that each of them
Are accompanied by an illustration.
This particular poem is positioned next to a drawing of a person standing on a scale
Unable to see the number because their stomach juts out just far enough
To block their view of the information that scale is providing.
I remember looking down at my naked body
Only to realize that i also could not see my feet.
My childish, growing, prepubescent tummy obstructed my view of my toes.
And I remember thinking for the first time, “Wow, I am fat.”
And that same feeling has followed me throughout these subsequent years.
Throughout elementary, middle, high school and beyond.
My dysmorphic perspective has been a shadow of which I could not shake.
And try as I might, deep down I knew that this was my fate.

I started restricting what I ate starting in 6th grade.
-I counted calories lost and gained and measured my size by the tightness of a tank top.
I watched videos of people like Eugenia Cooney,
and inspired myself through the photos I saw of
Emaciated girls kept alive by feeding tubes.
I was 12.
-I was diagnosed with Ee Dee En Oh Ess in the summer of seventh grade.
EDNOS is a catch-all eating disorder characterized by the characteristics you lacked
To be able to gain the coveted name brand DSM-5 diagnosis of anorexia.
-This I considered to be my failure.
To not qualify because of a lack of being underweight was all I needed for motivation.
So I doubled down on my efforts to lose weight and by the age of fourteen
I had finally achieved that which I so...craved.
I was the best. The skinniest. The one people whispered about in the halls and I had all the attention I could ever dream of getting.
And I was happy.
Wasn’t I?

Skip ahead to now and you will know my comeback story.
Seven years of weekly therapy, numerous psych ward stays, and one near-death experience
I can finally say that I am at a stable and healthy weight.
I continue to despise my body, but now I have the tools and mechanisms to be able to fight off the demon I had nicknamed “Ana”.
-And while I still cannot say that I truly love myself the way I am,
Slowly and steadily I continue to improve.
And I hope that one day I can look into that mirror, take in all my flaws and still be able to tell little 6 year old Grace…
“Sweet girl, you will be okay”.
There once was a boy, slightly altered, possessed by greed, and terrified of failure. His mother and father seemed to only care about one thing. After he was born, his parents became possessed by wealth. His eyes were the colors of the sky when darkness would fall, the color only the devil would welcome. The vermillion circle stretched to the outskirts of the violet black horizon. The violet black seemed to hesitantly corrupt the vermillion as they intertwine through the abyss of the newborn darkness within his soul. Where his mother and father saw a demon. And from then on they were taken by his nonexistence, and slowly their love began to fade. This boy had a name, a name his parents soon forgotten, Dracoleon.
Dracoleon's mind always averted to wealth. The only time his parents communicated was when taxes were to come. They spoke solely about coins, gold, and work. Draco was soon consumed by it. He was then always busy, always working, counting money, he had nothing get in his way, He never seemed to see the scared, suspicious, and disgusted faces that walked by him, the dream of wealth consumed his entire universe.
It was one day, the king was said to be roaming about town. His parents would talk about the king often, father would say that he wished to be as rich as the king, or be the king himself.  But he would shake his head and continue. The boy wandered about the town indifferently as he searched for his father’s idol. It was once he turned a corner, he saw him. He ran toward the crowd and progressively landed in front. The king road in a chariot, the glistening white horses carried ropes dragging the golden chariot behind, As the silver knights followed. Across the street he saw his parents seek in awe of the glorious presence the king beheld. Then saw them grasp hands as if they were grasping a chance of hope as the king road by. In Dracoleon's eyes the king seemed narcissistic, he looked to be bathing in the jealously, the awe, and crushed hopes around him.
Then, suddenly, the king stopped in front of him. Then strode out of the chariot and stood, twenty feet away, then pointed directly at him; “Come my child!” he said. Impulsively,  he walked then stopped in confusion. “Come; kneel before me!” he yelled. Quickly he snapped and continued towards the king. He knelt three feet away. The king knelt down and looked into his violet eyes and whispered in his ear: “You’re different from the rest.” Suddenly he gasped, quickly stood and started humming a melody as if he was hypnotized; Dracoleon saw a slight gleam in his eye. A few moments later, he stopped and stood awkward and confused, then said “you’re going to be excellent.” At that he spun around, entered the chariot and continued on his way.
The boy stood dazed by the king’s presence. The villagers were glaring at him for minutes till he finally came out of  his hypnopompic trance. It was then he saw a man, just about thirty, wearing a cloak, carrying an odd looking box. No one seemed to notice him. As the people continued on their lives, he decided to wander to the mysterious man that caught his interest. It didn’t take long for the old man to notice the boy stalking him. He confronted the boy. “Hello” He said. “I must ask, why are you following me?” The boy froze in his steps, “w-what’s in the box?” he whispered. The man chuckled, “would you like to find out?” The boy managed to nod…. The man took the boy, not by force, not by manipulation, but by the man simply walking away, as the boy follows.

The wizard and the boy traveled in his single horse wagon in Europe for many years. The wizard showed him a whole new world, and left Draco's behind. The wizard filled his mind with adventure, and fed him excitement the boy had a purpose, but the wizard had rules, ones that cannot be broken. The wizard taught him his ways. And slowly, the boy became a wizard.

Six years later, the wizard was fading, he told him a story, a story about the great wizards long ago, The world was approaching something non existent, the wizards couldn’t escape, he was the only one who wasn’t taken by the darkness, and he watched as the rest of the great wizards, imploded and were trapped by the void. Silence, infinity, timelessness, nothing, it was hell. The great wizard gave him a puppet, it looked like the wizard. “Its the story of our past, a past not to be forgotten” He had whispered and he slowly faded away, joining the great wizards in the void.

It was then Dracoleon became the last wizard in the world. All of the wizards power, all the rules, and all the memories, his, And his alone. Dracoleon only had one thing to do, the only thing that will carry the wizards memories, becoming a puppet master.

The wizards shows became well known, He would come into town and there would be a few people going in and out of the wagon, watching the puppet shows. It was then a strange man came into the wagon, tall, pale, a dark presence around him. He asked to stay after the show.  He walked Beside and ran his thin pale fingers along the small stage the puppets played on. “You're different from the rest.” He said in a death toned voice. Draco froze, and suddenly his past flashed before his eyes, his parents, the money, the king. The king said he was different too. “ You're going to be excellent.” He whispered. “what if I told you, I could make you excellent, forever? Nothing absolutely nothing would get in the way.” Draco was mesmerized by the corruption of his past seeking out through his mind, and setting around him. The money, the greed, he forgot how great it was, to be in power, now that he's a wizard, the only wizard, he can do anything, change the rules, take over the world. Then suddenly, he was frightened, He wouldn’t have time, Time to do all theses things, Suddenly the man's words caught up in his mind, “What if I told you, I could make you excellent forever?” Draco then looked up at the odd man, he was smiling. “what do you say?” Draco manged a nod.

Draco was near death. The man turned out to be a vampire, he altered him. But it was all a blur, “ A three day slumber, and a new universe comes at your feet with a path set to follow” The vampire had said. Then he disappeared, and the pain began.  Draco felt his soul leap out of his chest, the intense burning sensation followed throughout his body, And then, nothing. He felt his soul go on a  journey to comeback with a plan, A plan that would make the universe his, forever. Draco opened his eyes....

The puppet maker became very popular, But to Vincent, he was a question, a mystery, Draco The wizard caught his interest when he saw the villagers walk out, excited, happy, and longing for more.  But that’s not what intrigued him, The villagers stepped out of the wagon, with a look of confusion, but only for a slight second, then there eyes, they fogged over and then reverted to normalcy. As they walked, most hummed a melody, A repeating melody that seemed to be engraved in their throats.
Vincent was a magician. One of the greatest, He owned a magic shop in the middle of the town he was curious on what the puppet maker was to do when he brought villagers into the wagon. When the last of the villagers walked out, Vincent quickly got in line.

Dracoleon brought five villagers into the wagon each time, In Vincent's group there was a little girl, her father, a woman, and an old man.  into the wagon they went and  they sat down and he began the show.  Vincent and the others watched the puppet maker bring his puppets into play. They were familiar puppets, ones you would see of people walking in the streets. His voice matched that of the puppet, the personality’s seemed to fit perfectly. It was nothing like they'd ever seen before. Then suddenly the candles went out, and it was dark in the wagon. “ Time to play” Draco whispered. Suddenly, They felt something behind them, Then, the candles flickered on, the puppets were restraining them,  Smiles on their wooden faces. Slowly, Dracoleon pulled out a watch, a small watch, he whispered something into it, and it glowed blue. He walked over to where the little girl was restrained, he took her wrist and with a small blade, he slit it, she tried to scream, you could see the horror in her blue eyes, his lips pressed against her wrist and he began to drink, you could see her rosy cheeks go pale, He left her gasping for life. “the youngest always taste the best.” He laughed. “ The taste of blood so pure.” He whispered. “But shes not a ******.” He looked at the father. “you see, its sick men like you that deserve to die.” The father looked at him in terror. Dracoleon whispered in his ear but he was still to be heard. “but I've something better than that.” A tear ran down the father's face. “Humans are so faulty. So filled with sin, sickness, you should be thanking me. But you may never understand” He looked at Vincent. “And you, you think you can defeat me.” He chuckled. The puppets grip grew tighter. Blood started dripping down each one of their faces, the puppets were slowly attaching themselves to the humans their strings tightening around their neck and the mouths grasping their skulls. The puppet maker continued laughing “ Let the games begin!”  He opened the watch, the humans fell limp and the puppets disappeared into their bodies. The puppet maker began to hum the melody.
The platform smells like skunked beer and rain,
a combination that feels almost romantic
if you tilt your head the right way.

I’m here because I missed the earlier one,
but maybe that’s the point.
Maybe everything worth waiting for
comes late, sticky, and half-empty.

I lean against the pillar,
fingers tracing someone’s graffiti confession—
MARIA, COME BACK.

I wonder if Maria stood here once,
tracing her own name in the dark,
wondering if it was enough to stay.

I hope she didn’t.
I hope Maria found something better
than this station,
this boy with a Sharpie
and a bad sense of timing.

I decide Maria is smarter than me,
that she’s already figured out
how to leave for good.

The train squeals like someone giving up
mid-argument, its voice cracking
just before the silence. I step inside
like a swallowed comeback.

The train jerks forward, pulling me with it,
an accomplice to leaving,
taut between the tension of wanting to stay
and disappearing into every local stop we make.

I press my forehead to the window
and watch the city unravel backwards—
neon signs blinking like eyelids,
lights flickering like answers
to questions I’ve stopped asking.

For a moment, I’m so full of joy
it feels reckless—
like daring a wave to pull me under,
knowing it probably will,
like I’ve stolen something precious
and can’t bear to give it back.

For a moment, I’m so full of hope
it feels wild—
like I’ve caught a glimpse of something
I’ve spent my whole life trying not to lose,
like maybe this train is taking me somewhere
I’ve been running from my whole life.

And then the lights flicker,
and I laugh—
because of course they do.
Because nothing this weird and beautiful
could ever come without a catch.

The train jerks,
a man drops a tallboy,
its amber spray spreading like a secret—
a casualty of motion,
spraying my boots,
reaching me before I can move,
because some things always do.

The rain streaks the windows,
the world pressing its palms
against the glass,
trying to remind me it’s still there.

And me? I’m here—
alive, for better or worse,
in this strange, messy moment,
with a Sharpie in my bag
and an urge to go back and write my name
like a flare next to Maria’s,
just in case she’s still out there
and she’d like to know I’m out here too.

This is what we do:
leave traces in places
we’ve long since abandoned,
hoping someone sees them
before they’re painted over.
Lynda Kerby Aug 2017
For: michael whithorn
LK
Lynda Kerby <newgirl676@live.com>




look!
im so in debt!
i cant get myself to clean my house!
im mentally emotionally and physically spent!
i havent been a good friend to you but
i tried the best i could
i know your heart means well
i am so ashamed at what ive become
i dont have another comeback in me
i am going to miss you
what we should have had
i have lost at this game called life
i will always wish you well
i wish it could have been me
i wish a lot of things
i wish there was a heaven for me to be reunited w colton
but he is gone
ive wasted this one precious life that he never got to enjoy
you cant handle me crying
i need a shoulder
i am not even mad at you
hate to see you waste your life w a loser like me
i know you hate me
i dont blame you
sorry the *** was good enough to keep you coming back
i set you back from your goals by many months
im just tired
i dont guess you understand that kind of tired
but its real

— The End —