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Evelyn Genao May 2018
"It's okay."

I can still feel it.
The way your lips touched mine.
Without meaning.
Without feelings.
I missed them.
Your kisses.
Your attention.

My heart.

I saw it.
The way your eyes drifted to others.
Never straying to mine.
Never filled with the same spark.
Always dull.
Lifeless.
Loveless.

It hurts.

You would say it.
Those three words.
Not to me.
Never to me.
To the others.
They always got your love.
I got your hate.
Your anger.
Always.

You don’t have to love me.”

You gave me orders.
Never to be near you.
Never to hold hands.
Not in public.
We did not know each other.
They would get the wrong idea.
“We are cousins,” You would say.
You were embarrassed.
To be seen.
With me.

I can’t.

I was your puppet.
You pulled the strings.
And I obeyed your commands.
You never loved.
Not me.
Never me.
I was your toy.
Something you could throw away.

Take it.

It’s all a game.
Of feelings.
Of pain.
Of love.
Of hate.
You are the king.
I’m your pawn.
Just a piece on your board.

I’m done.

I loved you.
More than anything.
I let you use me.
Hurt me.
If I got to be with you.
Nothing else mattered.
You didn’t feel the same.

No one ever does.”
I saw a prompt and this poem came to mind. I hope you love it and be sure to comment what you think. Check out my other works!!
Carter Ginter Nov 2018
Why is my mind
Convincing me I'm bored
As I sit across my love
We're both working on our art
In this beautiful coffee shop
We're an interesting team
Only an arm's length between
Blue and purple hair
I know I am not bored
My brain is simply on a strike
There's a lot of painful thoughts
Anchoring my heart into darkness
"Boredom" is not correct
I simply cannot find an escape
Strong enough right now
To pull me back out
Back into living this life
I'd rather repress all of the pain
(Though it blunts all of my positive feelings too)
I'd rather simply hide behind
A phrase so simple as
I'm bored
Poetic T Sep 2018
Every breath is a diamond.

     For without the gleam
of every one..
the beauty of life would be dull.
Nicole Alyssia Aug 2016
wake me from the dead
my lover
for my heart yearns
to beat
and my hand yearns
to write
I am nothing without a muse.... A hollow shell, going through the motions, floating lifelessly
Mara Feb 25
Your lack of imagination
creativity
crushes me
HearseTraffic Apr 20
Whispering repeated refrains
out of tired lungs
like stabbing myself
with a sheathed dagger.
Death by a million scrapes,
solace in the deadly dull.
Written in April 2019
rin maristela May 2018
the store that never actually sells
but only gives if you'd ask
had finally closed.

not that money had been an issue
lady owner just finally felt resignation on her knees
missing driving at late night
without worrying about who might have broken
through the backdoor

as it always happens.

but that night before she could pick up her keys
someone by the front door stepped in.
bizarre, he didn't ask to get something
he came to give
flowers of a rare kind she fancies.

never did he asked for anything
except for coffee
but she only make black
and so she said apologies
afraid it's rude not to have milk
but the man only smiled and simply accepted it.

and since that night she didn't feel the need to leave anymore.

the store is still closed
but he is in
and everything she has to offer on display
of nothing really but insignificance are there
for him to see or to even pick up is up to him.
thanks for accepting and loving me for who i am. i love you so much, my Sherwin.
Elizabeth Zenk Nov 2018
out of all the beautiful, vibrant, vivid colors
i am a bland, dull, uninspired hue
between the words in a book,
withered, dehydration grass,
or the color of a summer hare.
however, i’ve been told that i was once creative,
rain twisted oil spilled on cement,
poppies in a mid-afternoon sun,
or the tone of a summer goldfinch.
i wonder if it was the sun’s rays that desaturated my existence
i am the product of years worth of desaturation.
Josh Overson Aug 2018
Maybe you’ll feel it ooze from a blade
It might make you less afraid.
Maybe you’ll feel it release from your hands
Broken bones never stopped a man.
Maybe you’ll feel it dent in your skull
I don’t mind another hole.
Maybe you’ll feel it when you beg for more
Nope, you’ll watch her close the door.

A pill swallowed whole, a mind gone dull.
I’m alone and afraid, I can only pray.
To love myself.. once more...
Nevertheless love yourself
As a little girl she always knew
That she lacked something special
Her own mother reminded her constantly
And the lass is now a grown woman

Adult experiences confirmed what was true
That she was just ordinary and dull
A woman with no it factor
Invisible to all before and around her

She's heard and hears stories of other women
Who use their wiles on hungry men
'If only I had that gift I'd feed a hundred of them'
Instead she's bypassed like she's not even there

Old age is catching up to her now
She may as well be thin air
The only ones who see her are other women
But never the men she dreams of

Ordinary is boring and typical
Nothing exciting about this creature
She might as well be dead and buried
Along with any hopes of truly being seen
Nobody Feb 2018
They act like foolish mice lost in a maze,
with heart eyes, who only admire and send praise;
so blown away, and stuck in a dumb daze.
It’s amusing they excuse your wicked ways,
and you can gladly starve them all for days;
while smiling madly, not even fazed.
They’re dim and dull, you need entertained.
You can’t help it, you think, but don’t dare say,
to sustain your pointless little games;
that you can’t ever seem to abstain.
It’s the higher ground you need to gain.
So lure them in enduring your demented cage.
Provoke their wrath and force them to cave,
spread your foul poison to their every vein.
There’s no denying they’re enslaved,
locked tight in your chains.
You were mine
You were my words and my thoughts
The whisper in my ear
Singing to me a song only I was blessed enough to hear
But the melody faded,
Dissipated into nothing but a hum
Now I dully strain to make the song remain
Yet it has grown so quiet
That when I try, all I hear is rain
Audrey Sep 2018
I look for the sun,
And see darkness everywhere,
Where is the sunlight?
Just a short one.
CK Baker Jan 2018
was he loving
was he kind
did he always speak his mind

was he thoughtful
was he warm
did he listen, and conform

was he faithful
was he loyal
did he tinker, did he toil

was he patient
was he tough
did he dream, big enough

was he funny
was he wise
did he brim with dull surprise

was he humble
was he vowed
did he always make you proud

was it sudden
was it slow
was there nothing left untold

was he ready
was it time
was forgiveness left behind
Christian Ek Jun 2014
Disappointment is thrown strongly at my direction.
Blame gathers in large quantities like a pest infestation.
"It's your fault" and words like "You always make mistakes" evoke anger.
Anger which I want to take out on myself and take out on others.
I can excel in my work of choice, I know I'm more than average.
The bad gets pointed out more and little praise is given for the good.
Stunned by unmoving words. I'm like a prisoner sentenced to jail, released and expected to do worse.
Destruction emerges from my enraged emotions, i wish your words could offer a solution.
I want to be an alchemist and turn things into gold.
It's ironic how I am a creator of words but cant create better words in my critics.
Conversations lead to arguments because i want to be heard.
I'm sick of revolving doors, sick of being slammed by your atrocious comments.
"You have no common sense" you say to me, maybe I just prefer to be in a daydream, my mind drifting away because life is too dull.
Realize that what you say has an effect and that effect can drive somebody or stop them in motion.
Elemenohp Dec 2010
My mind is open.
See what is, my brain.
It's the purest form,
of all which I contain.
Crack open my skull,
With objects blunt, or dull.
Expose my mind, than take it all.
Jazmine Jul 2015
Maybe I can breathe without  you
Maybe the pain won't go away but it can dull

I see now that I can live
Not how I once was
But I will try to get ****** near close

I can't stop my life
Because we stopped our love
sushii Jan 28
On a day such as this,
I return from my tiring work.
On a day such as this,
I return to this dull world.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

The thinning beats are composed of children's pitter-patter,
And sullen ***** dish clatter.
The tuneless melody speaks of pointless meanings,
And empty greetings.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

I hear it one more time--
Or so I think,
For the part of me that understands
Has already died.
William Maxwell Dec 2018
When life is dull and dreary
And leaves one's eyes
Full and teary
Through the bleak winter
Awaiting the maiden spring
For beauty is the one true cure
To leave life lovely and pure...
b Aug 2018
you can only see orion
in winter
she says.
i make pretend.
if minds are swords
than i am dull twice over
and she is
battle ready.

i cook a meal
so tender in
the moment.
when it ends i will
crash back
to the bottom
i know.

i get a little
too personal by the fire.
id love to say
i dont care
and mean it,
but that would
be a load of ****.
i am a ***** for
validation i will pay
you for it.

orion died for
sagittarius.
what a beautiful
way to go.
Alice Apr 1
Dark days come along,
When the air blows feathered knives.
They stab the flesh of wanderers,
Who pass through uniform lives.

Walking in calamity, the same route
Each melancholy night.
The cold air dances like feathers
Yet their lives do not take flight.

For on these nefarious nights,
Corruption bleeds down.
Stains the sheets of gloomy virtue,
Gives the night his crown.

The smell of solemn occasion,
The pinch of frozen sky,
The midnight shades of insomnia,
The wind that whispers "Why?"
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me (as idle laughter contorts my face)
that what could've filled me
I've neglected to death.

I sit alone quietly watching

An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.

NO no

I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.

The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as you dance to catch each in your mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.

Let's cut this short.

Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Good luck good luck good luck, remember you're a knife that just needs sharpening sometimes.
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