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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.

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.

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 ****.
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!!
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
Lᴇ Feb 25
Your lack of imagination
crushes me
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
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.
Audrey Sep 2018
I look for the sun,
And see darkness everywhere,
Where is the sunlight?
Just a short one.
Temporal Fugue Dec 2018
The words will someday bury me, eternally, eventually
a specter that none can venture, or see
and yet, will always be

My ghost now in periphery, essentially, unequivocally
just some paranoid activity
spirits wild, and free

A presence, apparition, without material definition
no clarity from any position
a deteriorated condition

The doctor, from his elevated premonition
pumping me full, and mentally dull
with no chance in ****
of any recognition
I don't understand dulling the mind to everything in the name of alleviating pain, it doesn't make sense IMO :(
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.
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
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?"
CK Baker Mar 2017
were you there
with a passionate heart
when all her world
was falling apart

did you listen
when all that was
was misery

did you hold her
see her eyes
when desperation
fell from the sky

did you linger
help her cope
when all was lost
without a hope

were you present
conscience clear
to help her face
her darkest fear

did you ardor
deep inside
laugh and cry
build her pride

did you lift her
from her knees
dull the pain
and help her ease

did you question
more than care
were you feelings
raw and bare

did you show her
all your love
deep in spirit
from above
Shang Dec 2013
my eyes finally rested,
the perfect shade of pain's gray
Hers swiftly burned copper-red

we're bound to disappoint
along the way

always looking up to
someone out-of-reach

stammering over words,
just to make a point

the point is dull, anyway.
(C) Shang
Lizzy Jul 2015
I swing my sword
At the monster inside me.
But the blade has been blunted,
It's dull and cannot ****.
What is a warrior without her sword?
Joan of Arc without her horse?

Stripped of my valor,
In the middle of war.
I do not have the means to fight anymore.
Left bare to the sun.
Where arrows can pierce
And daggers can jab.

Trying to create an image,
Which seemed so vivid before.
All my paint is dull
And all my canvas broken.
What is an artist without his brush?
Van Gogh without his hands?

The pain he must feel
When losing his only muse.
He lives through art,
So dies if he cannot paint.
I live through words,
I die if I cannot write.

Now god you've taken my legs.
How do I live,
When I cannot stand.
I fear I've lost my only light.
I fear I'm out of muse.
With nothing more to say.

Like a warrior without her sword.
Van Gogh without his hands.
My words are my legs,
And I cannot stand.
Lizzy Nov 2015
It's a darkness that surrounds you.
It covers your eyes,
And swims in your ears.
To keep you from seeing light,
Or hearing laughter.

Instead you see everything
In a dull and dark way.
Colors are no longer vibrant,
And lines seem to be blurred.
There is no more beauty in a sunset,
Or majesty in the ocean.
It's just water now.

And every sound is muffled now.
You can't differentiate your favorite song
From any other anymore.
The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet.
Every song is the same bleak humm.
And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf.

The darkness even dulls touch.
A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore.
And contact seems nauseating.
A kiss is just a reminder
That nothing good lasts.
And most other interaction makes my skin crawl.

But now the darkness is in your brain.
In here, sometimes it's not dull at all.
Sometimes the darkness
Takes the shape of a monster.
A monster that whispers terrible things
And just gets louder when you try not to listen.
Sometimes the darkness
Feels like war inside your mind.

But yes, again, the darkness is dull.
Sometimes there is no monster,
No war,
And no yelling at all.
Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind,
It becomes a silence.
I can't make out a clear thought,
Because all there is
Is silence.
The darkness takes the shape
Of death.
The silence, the nothingness of death.
And it becomes part of you,
Making your mind nothing but silence
And nothingness.

But the worst part about the darkness
Is my inability to communicate its existence.
I can't make anyone understand
The many shapes it can take.
How it can be torturous and loud
But comfortable just the same.

It's easy to talk about the monster,
Because it's something foreign and
Something present.
But everything else,
The dullness of senses
And the silence it becomes,
Can't be expressed.
Because in these forms,
The darkness is absence of life.
It's absence of color,
And thought.

And it's so hard to paint a picture
Of something that isn't even there.
I can paint a picture of a monster
With ****** teeth and devilish eyes.
But I cannot paint the nothingness
The darkness so often is.

And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous.
I can fight a monster.
But I cannot fight nothing.
Nothingness will swallow you.
It will take over your senses
And thoughts,
And eventually will to live.

Life is colorful.
Life should be loud.
Life should be funny.
And sometimes painful.
But when the silence,
The nothingness arrives,
There is no color.
There is no sound.
No laughter.
Or even pain.
There is no life at all.
Smiles and Cheers as the Pony-Child confirmed
She really does favour you to the Brim
Her Speech speaks Volumes as Harmony adjourned
In keeping your Lamp from casting too Dim
For in this World's Class one is not so sure,
Which Category this Gospel is kept
Whether which Page is Sweet or which is Pure,
Or which those Dreaded Ants would mark Inept
Praises! Hone that Dull Knife to turn so Sharp
Then this Simpleton's Sail will land un-cut
A Good Brew; A Better Play of the Harp
Will tune your Te Deums anything but.
A little Humour, Friend, goes a Long Way
And this same Pony-Child begs you to stay.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
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