Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
someone Nov 2015
your voice; it envelopes me.
emotions,
so evident.
so much expression from speech you don't express in.
words never mean as much before you speak them.
ah, you're one articulate *******.
words are only of meaning when you use them.
                                                             speak to me.
tell me about your fears, and i'll tell you how i only feel brave with you by my side.
                                                          ­   speak to me.
tell me all that goes through your mind. i've never loved hearing someone's thoughts so much before.
                                                             speak to me.
i want to know what you love the most. talk to me about your mom. your brother's dog. talk to me about which sibiling you'd prefer to talk to when there's no one else home. then, define home. tell me about all your favorites. i have them memorized unconsiously.  what keeps your blood racing? tell me. tell me, i want to listen. i want to know how you've grown to be so beautiful.
                                                      ­       speak to me.
i want to know what you hate the most.
tell me about those behind your undying rage; those behind your anger. so i can burn them to ashes.
                                                         ­    speak to me.
talk to me about what overwhelms you the most. what emotion drains you? i want to know whether it's despodency or hollowness that cripples you. is it both? i want to know whether you fall in-between self-hatred and self-love or on either end of both. in other words, are you aware that you're ethereal.
                                                      ­       speak to me.
i'd love to hear your voice again. tell me more.
a series about what i'm in love with.
Anugraha Mar 2022
I did bad things to the people I love
And even worse to those that love me.

I stared at the wall unblinking while minutes
bled into hours, into days, into weeks and into months.

I felt like the pebble stuck to the river,
battered and bruised, never allowed to just let go.

I filled glass bottles full of pain
And flung them onto the ocean
hoping someday someone would find them.

I chased the horizon into Neverland
And came up empty handed.

In short,
I am exhausted.
I wish to go back
to the depths of the earth
from which I was called upon
Back to just an idea in the mind of the Creator.
Back to peace.
What the hell am I doing here?

— The End —