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Phiness Guzman Sep 2014
i took one deep breath,
and exhaled you out.
for you are my favorite,
but you are toxic.


p.g.
you, my dear, are my cigarette. i love you, but you are slowly destroying me.
Osiria Melody Mar 22
Your memories, encapsulated on a memorial plaque
Your expensive smile, engraved into my mind
I thought you were all right
Your passions, preserved through my works, a continuation of your legacy
Your kindness, reverberated in this room, bittersweet aura

Every time I step into this room that was once yours, I feel like I'm one step away from Death
Every time I say your name, I feel like I'm one word away from my last
Every time I look at photos of your smile, I feel like I'm one tear away from becoming a memory
Every time I dream of you, I feel like I'm one day away from becoming distant

A distant echo of meaninglessness, for losing you is what I never wanted
A distant echo of confusion, for fearing that I'd never be good enough to make up for lost time
A distant echo of animosity, for drinking anger: the only thing that makes me feel alive
A distant echo of suicide, for I'll never stop blaming myself

You always told me that you were fine
But never told me that 'fine' lost touch with you
You always told me that you were happy
But never told me that 'happy' killed you

I will always stay strong, not for myself, but for you, who has grown—

distant
distan
dista
dist
dis
di
d

#


.
.

.


.



M­elody
3/22/19
A scene played in my mind. A mother lost her son because he died from his own hands. She blames herself each day and wants to reunite with him through death, but cannot bring herself to do so. She expends every fiber of strength within her to honor him, even if the memory of him grows distant each day.
Lewis Hyden Nov 2018
Over on the crescent wing
The bitter gales bring waves of rain:
Listen. Frozen windows sing.
Enraptured by the searing pain
Like pestilence in hurricane.
Buildings rise up to the halls
Impenetrable planet-bane
As summer lost, and spring withal.

Then the writhing storm-clouds bring
A storm of ice and wind again:
The sun rears up, but sets during.
And past the steel-laden plane
Silver orbs first wax, then wane
Then plaster to the mighty wall
Midnight buses, lane-by-lane,
Of nature not, but city fool.

Ascended like a spiteful King
The whispers rise, then sink in shame
No sound is here, no, not a thing.
Soaking in like liquor-stains
The buildings survey their domain
Not city-life, nor life at all;
They wander in the pouring rain
Where love is lost beneath the sprawl.

Tears and laughter, much the same
All are whispers, doomed to fall.
Dystopia without a name:
Not so distant after all.
A poem about the modern age.
#9 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
Melissa Meagher Jan 2011
Love, I know it is here. It surrounds us all. Yet, it still seems unreachable. Everyday I reach for the branches of the trees but they are too far, too high. The leaves stare at me from above, lingering, but eventually fly by as if they are saying goodbye.

The mud below tries to pull me in and I run. I run past it all. I run through the tall trees and hear empty noises scream at me. But what do they say? What do they want?

I listen more closely. They say nothing. I keep walking until I reach the end. There are no sticks, no brush from the trees beside me. The trees are too tall, and the mud, too drowning. The screams, gone, I am without leaves, without branches, without noise. I am just, there, torn.
Seanathon Mar 2017
Dissolve the ceiling above my head
With an outstretched arm
So that I can speak to the stars again
Not to say goodbye
Or to say goodnight
But to welcome them back into the darkest corners of my life
So that I can lay here and not feel flat
With my head tipped back to catch the slight
That way I could be in line with you
Underneath the distant stars tonight
How... Is such a thing even possible God???
Adam Jan 30
My smile seems to have been misplaced in the past month
It treats me more like an acquaintance now
Stopping to talk every once in a while
But never getting too close
Seanathon Sep 20
You strengthen me
Stretch me tall in fond pursuit
And call my waking trees to move with subtle hints

Familiar as the folding sound
Between quiet rustling parchment leaves
Becoming new our newest sounds as an inkwell drawn

Like a sunlit jewel your dulcet glow
Is stumbling down a penciled path of painted memory
Colored by every season anew with the hues of you

Don’t cry when I am no more seen, my felicity
It was always and with you in mind
That you made me want to try
Painted Words Between Distant Mailboxes is built around a song, a sketch, a classic story. Separated by time and space no more. These lovers turn now, to face a new fate, having not been left alone in an empty word. "Through the long and lonely night." We persevere until the dawning bright. Shines back at us with joy.

#ICSTMYM
She fell:
into my arms,
like raindrops
at my feet,
but no:
not the tiny type
that proceed the storm,
like the plump generous kind
that fall,
and let you know
that you're in the beginning and the middle of the deluge
half way in, and you can't go no farther -
type of rain.

Lighting up the night sky
of my life
with spiderwebs of purple lightning
she rolled like distant thunder,
while her waves of water
made everything brand new
again.
Carel Prinsloo Jan 2017
the very distant stars
are much closer
than you think
Sam Jul 2018
Your love was warm
not until you give me cold threats
of leaving me if I pull you closer.
How am I gonna hold you?
If you're always been so distant.
How am I gonna go for you?
If one step I take could break us.



Noises in Mind, Copyright © 2014
Sam N. de la Rosa
All rights reserved.
Leal Knowone Feb 2017
12
It only takes 12 seconds to forget your place, to count how many men broke them selves off between your legs.
Now you are so distant and cold.

You may have only been 13 then, broken by this man and his friend.
It scarred your naive soul.

Close you eyes and count to 10 the nightmare creep back again,  this game of hide and seek.

In 2016 many people weep for those famous,we can no longer see. 1000 ways feeling can be
PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Petals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we've gone on our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash a weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, the formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera slowly backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. *****.
Silverflame Mar 2018
A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrates my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.

And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.

I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.

On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
it's just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.
Amanda Aug 2018
Let go of the problem weighing your soul down
Lay your head on your pillow; rest
Listen to insightful words
Let my advice help you do what's best.

Slowly moving between dark realms
Tingling with faint apprehension
Entranced, stumbling in a clouded stupor
Ravenous greed beyond my comprehension.

What will it take to open your eyes?
Days are fading fast
Insecure about how many tomorrows you have
Or rather, how many you lack.

We have little time on Earth
I am screaming but you won't wake up
Hearing same opinions repeated
Broken spirit remains stuck.

Center of your universe
Drugs have your mind caged
I cannot tell which parts are real
Which are perfectly staged.

Your forgery is well-crafted now
The world is starting to see
The way you live not good or right
To speak then act differently.

Could I aid your hand somehow?
Each attempt met with resistance
Say the same phrases each time
From each other grow distant.

Honestly it has been over for awhile
I have given our love my all
Though I wish we could be together
It hurts too bad to sit back and watch you fall.
Its painful to watch an angel fall
lulu Nov 2018
You were my cigar,
a very toxic one,
you were waiting to be lit.
I was your lighter,
i was hoping to see a flame.
We burned,
intensely,
brightly.
But now all that's left is smoke.
'our love has burnt.'
so, i thought but no.
CK Baker Dec 2016
six lanes
in a sight line
past the cedar shims
and trim tempered insert
past the washed mural
and water stained tiles

covered eyes
fight for focus
over cork strung ties
and dark distant bridges
foot crawlers on lemon pegs
teaming
under clouded halogen light  

dreamers contend
in a variation of chant
(throwing it off in a
drawl sequence)
a glimpse of the guard
and warm towel assignment
forge comforting relief
in a task filled day
Woody Jun 2018
I still dream of my father
crossing the pastures
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sorrow
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
turning one last time as
if to say: so long my son
there’s going to be days
of sunshine and plenty
more of rain as he went
along his way, and my
sadness waved back like
grain in fields of long past
summers and summers
before that, so long a time
ago I can remember only
on lonely nights of heat
lightning and the low
rumble of distant thunder.
A nice surprise on this Monday evening.  Thank you all very much for your reading and very nice comments. Please know that I appreciate all of you and your kind words. Thank you.

* To Ravinder Kumar Soni: Opinion entitled to and noted. Thanks for taking the time to read.
Hafza Awan Sep 21
Instagram: Online
Facebook: Online
WhatsApp: Offline

hmm, so he is doing well, I am  doing well

Instagram: Active yesterday
Facebook:  23 hours ago
WhatsApp: Still Offline

***, my heart is sinking, I am not breathing well.
when your lifeline moves with them being online and that is only how you can feel them near to you.
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