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Meet May 2018
Dreams. Aspirations.
Reality through the blurred visions
In search of
fading destination
Fallouts. Selfdoubts.
High on bad decisions
Want to scream out loud
Wanna touch the clouds
but stuck in a shell
Paranoid as hell
Craving miracles to happen
In more than many ways
Sleepless nights, dreadful days
Constant flow of thoughts
running through veins of brain
Past to regret about
Present to curse upon
Future to dwell on
And all that we need is an escape
Not to quit
but to be quite
To feel the peace
To use our elite wits
Through which art can speak
& words can live
To concentrate
without caring about the consequence
Hit the right note
& make the most of it
with what you got
This life ain't free of cost.
Jett Bleue May 2013
Some moments you’ll find can never be recreated a second time.
Such as when we first met; a moment I assumed I’d easily forget.
But it still lingers in my mind yet, even though nine months have passed down the line,
I still remember that night.

When I entered the room to opened armed embraces.
Where the bottles of beer clanked together as we matched up our names with our faces.
Our conversations hatched open common interests as we spoke of the things we liked best.
Spilling the alcohol scented thoughts off our tongues that run as wild as our mind traces.

Our futures memories of the coming months would become locked behind the
handles of our rooms,
Held imprisoned inside the walls of what became our nighttime tombs.
The voices of my old friends echo when they rebound of the walls filling their own voids in the now deserted halls.
That lie barren as they wait to be filled by the next year’s crew so that the endless circle of old and new resumes.

We’ve watched as our friendships have transcended onto another plateau.
Through break ups, fallouts, spilled wine, growth sprouts, chinstraps and dropouts.
But the end is here and it’s time to go home;
Time to close the curtains on that perfect view,
And open them up again to something new.
Justin Harris Aug 2015
She fell for me
When I tried escaping feelings for another.

She made me feel, and the feelings turned to melted medal which fell on her.

It stayed melted until all fell from the other, and SHE was my saving grace.

It formed a cacoon around her; thus the day I finally, truthfully told her I loved her.

She loved me from the start.
Now she's mine.

Our two was one incredible, inescapable fireworks display.

Our love was boundless.
....buts that's always the beginning.

We continued like a dream created married pair.
But married couples fight. Married couples also overcome hardships.

For silly, selfish reasons we broke into two.

But married couples are magnets.

Anger tore us apart once more.
But the sorrow from being in love is too powerful.

So we were drawn back to each other.

Every relationship has a list of fallouts that tests your strength.
But trust is too a straddle.
Trust we almost completely had.

I could always feel our downfall in me. But with a love like this, I chose to believe otherwise.

She started to ignore me. She loved me, but always ran away. She'd cry for me but never want me around.

She pushed me away.
But I didn't flee. Oh no. I love her too much.  

Then she made me face the facts.
It's just how she is. I just have to deal with it,...

...she says.

I was her first true love. I want to be with her as her last. Her one and only.
But it's only natural...
...that she treat me like a friend.

"I treat everyone that way", she says.
I'm no better than a friendly stranger.

Maybe even less- considering she never stood by me satisfied.

She's alone and I'd take the hurt for her. She's sad now. I should do something.

No, that's just my love speaking. Crying out. Coming forth.

It's hard to ignore it. She's always around. But I have to try my hardest.

The worst part is..
she still has my jacket.
This was based off the relationship I just went through. I just needed a way to let it out. What I'm feeling that is. I feel so sucksh now. It'll blow over. Please, blow over.
Akwana Wa Odera Mar 2019
Hold my hand right
The sentiments I've felt
Could easily flip a moving ship
To subside
The many decisions i was meant to decide
So many fallouts that resulted from incites
To be in light
I was referred to the word
A sheet full of write
And verses to recite
But with each complete chapter
I didn't get my longing desires
So if roses are red
Does that mean those
With the pigment red
Are the better species?
For violets it's true
Reason i scold the clouds
Just to witness the sky
Lining in blue
Lilies are white
Never heard them spread that word
But still daisies are my favorite
With characters of simplicity
With elegance
A perfect representation of me

Akwana Wa Odera
@therealakwana
© 2019
agirlnamedconnor Jan 2014
I've lost people who I need
through a variety of means.
Each one has been bitter;
nothing sweet, none to please.
I've lost people
to college towns
and new places,
better lives.
I've lost people
for reasons
that I still can't
say why.
I've lost people
to caskets
and fallouts
never mended.
I've lost people
who fell off
and lost people
who ascended.
I've lost people
all my life-
and in my life,
I'll lose plenty.
Elle Jun 2016
I am** five, and I still hold a certain sparkle in my eyes as I look up at my mother with pure awe and devout love for a woman who I assume to be my hero, my teacher, my one true love. Never would anyone replace a child’s love for their mother, right? She is the one who brought you into this world, and teaches you how to walk, how to speak, how to eat and how to be. She is the one who is there when you cry, when you scrape your knee, when you have a fever or just want a hug from mummy. No one can replace that. No one will love you like your mother…

I am eleven, and my mother is the bane of my life. She won’t let me go and see my friends because I didn’t clean my room. She is such a *****, right? We argue, we make up, then we argue some more… It’s a never ending spiral of “I HATE YOU, YOU’RE RUINING MY LIFE” and “I’m so sorry mum, I didn’t mean the things I said”. I still appreciate what she does- making my dinner and cleaning my room, giving me some cash to go into town with my friends, always being there when I need a cuddle. Sorry for being a horrible daughter mum, I love you…

I am fifteen, and I realize now that the last few years I have been nothing but horrible to my mother, who does all she can for me to have a good life even when she’s struggling. Finances are a *****, and life is **** but we still carry on trying to make the best out of it. I love her and she is the one constant in my life. Fallouts with friends and boy troubles? Forget all that, I’ve got my mum. I see my friends argue constantly with their mothers and all I can think is, “I’ve been there and trust me, one day you’ll regret it”. My mum tells me stories of how my dad is just an annoyance and not worth the space he takes up, and I’m ashamed to say it, but I believe her. Because she is my mother, she would never lie to me, right? Right…

I am eighteen, and my mother is no longer a part of my life. Words occasionally exchanged, I see her every few months when I come home from university. But it’s not the same. You see, my mother is not good. She is rude, and untruthful, and unfaithful and this is not what you want to see from your mother. She moved out, took her stuff and ****** right off. My mother, my hero, my one true love has done the unthinkable and left me behind. She can try to redeem herself by defending her actions and saying that she “deserves happiness too” but in reality, she’s wrong, and there’s nothing she can do…

I am now forgetting the good times, when my mother was… well, a mother.
I am now seeing her for what she really is, and I truly wish I wasn’t.
I am now realizing she is volatile. She’s the common denominator.
I am now becoming immune to the pain she causes, and to the promises she’s failed to keep before.
I am my mother’s child but she is not my mother, not anymore…
Destiny Berry Mar 2019
according to wiki, inner peace refers to a deliberate state of psychological or spiritual calm despite the potential presence of stressors. what they fail to mention is how can one gain peace of mind? no matter how “unbothered” you verbally say you are, your actions of eye rolling in their presence, subbing them on your twitter, and typing their username into the search bar says otherwise. you can block them on social media, delete every picture you’ve taken with them, even burn what used to be their belongings. below all of that rage and anger, there is hurt. no one deliberately chooses to lose someone in their life, especially one they’ve once called a (best)friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, lover, etc. but when fallouts happen, we get angry. we feel misunderstood. we say things we may or may not mean. to hide our vulnerability, we put up a front. because as long as it looks like we’re okay on our social medias, who cares about what’s going on internally right? and this is where we go wrong. inner peace isn’t about looking good, it’s about feeling good. it is a place of ease, of calmness. there is a stillness in your mind even when you peep things that would normally have you screenshot and send to the group chat. on this journey, you will need to practice forgiveness (not for them, but for you), take responsibility for your actions and learn not to put the blame on others, disconnect yourself from anyone who makes you doubt their intentions, and replace the ones you let go of with individuals who radiate nothing but positivity. accept things for what they are, accept people for who they are; when people show you their true colors, believe them the first time. giving someone the benefit of the doubt nowadays is a dangerous thing because you never know what you get in return. have patience, any kind of transformation will take time, this one especially. never lose focus, keep in mind where you’ve been and promise yourself to never look back. to those who was in need of this message, i wish you well on your journey.

- d.berry
Brian Jan 2020
I wish to remember the bad
the fallouts and the fights
the arguments we had
Could I be delusional
out of touch, insane?
For nothing negative comes
when I search my brain
Rather all you bring
is happiness here
stirring up old feelings
many of which I fear
What truly scares me
that I lie to myself about
is that I'll never move on
and take to the grave my doubt.
Just wrote this about someone who always confuses me when they comes across in my dreams.
kip Jun 2020
when we have our fallouts
I've always had my doubts
wanting you to retrace your steps
so I could see what would happen next

I haven't cried
even though I tried
when you dismissed my feelings
you left me there, staring at ceilings

I don't feel sorry for my heart
it was you, who drifted us apart
making assumptions at my expense
while you made everything tense

wanting you to finally come back
returning with all the things you lack
now I see you for who you truly are
you permanently left time with a scar

please, don't come back
you won't get a plaque
you won't get brownie points
because we've got no joints
You say you are ready to talk,                                                            ­                  
                                                                ­                                                    
after I tell you I'm gonna walk                                                             ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­      
Tired of the procrastination,                                                 ­                                             
 you bring to every situation                                                        ­                        
                                                                ­                                         
I hear your silence out loud                                                             ­                                           
                     ­                                                                 ­                              
I'm the only one in the crowd                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­      
who's always picking up the pieces,                                                          ­                
                                                                ­                                        
whenever your attention ceases                                                          
­                                                                 ­                                                 
This is the same thing, different day,                                                             ­         
                                                                ­                                                  
you don't know what to do or say                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                      
and when you speak you tell me
  lies,                                                         ­               
                                                                ­                                                     
 so many reasons that you can't  
  try                                                    ­            
                                                                ­                                                        
I have heard all of this before ,                                                                ­                      
about how you will be there
more                                                             ­   
                                                                ­                                                        
Your love has filled my heart with
doubt,                                                           ­ 
                                                               ­                                                   
you have nothing I can't live
without                                                          ­              
                                                  ­                                                                 ­     
I really can't take on another
bout                                                             ­               
                                                                ­                                                      
  of surviving your nuclear
fallouts
sandra wyllie Feb 2020
when people want to
stab you in the back because
they’re jealous of what you’ve
have. They’re all miserable unhappy

savages that derive pleasure from
other people’s fallouts.  They spread
just like pathogens infesting the innocent. The
success of others emphasizes the failure in

themselves. They are twisted, mangy
vile creatures that **** the blood
out of you like leeches. It’s oozing out
their mouth. They hate themselves. And I

in turn hate them. Be careful who you call
a friend.
ash 1d
beauty is in the eye of the beholder
but what if the one to envision it is blind?
i could approach you with a clean slate
i always do—writing things on a white screen—
except the older the ink, the harder for it to be removed.
visions of you in my head—just not anyone could write over.
and if they try—if i hear things again and again—every time,
it's written over and over and over
until i do not have any clean slate for you, any longer.


actions so cheap, the best of ink fails to meet my expectations.
perhaps there are too many,
but what do i do
when you tend to perform in disguise
every time you see someone come around?

i slip in the lows of being unhinged almost,
the gates of emotional purgatory open to welcome me aboard.
it's tiring—i'm drained.
speaking it in metaphor, trying to paint over.
it brings me to wonder:
just how long do i play pretend?

been wrung dry of trust,
perspective from the third person
who stands in the rubble of ghosted flirtations,
half-friendships built on the foundation of lies.
expected nothing,
but the hope still flows—
straight to my river of misery,
now reeking shades of disappointment.
got lesser and lesser,
and now it's barely there.

this is my final letter,
a sigh of resignation—
hopefully the scientific dissection of this feeling that i entertain:
of the almosts,
weird hope-hangovers,
and all the games
that weren't even mine to begin with.

to name it is difficult—
perhaps it's the hope fatigue,
the burn of being ghosted,
or a nostalgia born from detached attachment.
i mourn for things that weren't real.
hungover from fake bonds,
relying on remnants of connections
that echoed in fallouts.

i asked ai—what do i name this feeling?
in my own words, it replied:
choose your favourite color and give it to this burnout.

grey—
in the middle of extremes,
where hope lay on one end,
ache at the other.
the rope stretched thin.
my being glitches—
a breath, every failed text,
trying to match up the vibe.
i feel like i've fallen in between the lines.
i see it, hiding in plain sight,
watching people perform me wrong.
lowest of expectations, ridden lower and low.

fake affection tastes like sour frosting
on a cake that's been left uncovered in the fridge
for way too long.
the outside’s rough, dry—
nevertheless, i take a bite.

there's eerie silence
as i sit at the edge of the windowsill.
numbness lingers.
i pull at the strings.
raw evenings,
i tend to wonder—
write notes, only to surrender.

kindness—they tally manipulation.
flirting, i take as a weapon.
come headfirst—i'm no longer wary.
having given up,
you just add to my list
of why i shouldn't let people carry
me,
or the weight of what i've become.

i don't despise it.
rather, it's a maturity
i ought to carry to a life—
unless i find someone to share this feeling with.

do you feel,
having already expected close to none,
but being handed even lesser—
gift-wrapped in guilt almost—
just please accept it?
expect it the least,
find it dealt in a heist.

even apathy tends to feel violated
when you drag it back to the beginning.
there ought to be a specific hell
for those who tend to exist
and make promises
like they aren't bartering their own.
calling me honest—
with a mouth that lies.
an ache with no name,
a feeling with no gain.

i been known,
been breathing in the sighs—feelings forlorn.
lover girl by laufey plays on my phone,
disappointment of having lost myself
to beliefs that held me strong.

believe,
trust,
exist,
let go.

four friends turned strangers
sitting on the edges of an x.
the centre, i settle upon,
asking what do i name this feeling
that's been born?

how hard is it
to not wear a mask
and change it every time you bask
in a different one’s setting?
a rare emotional creature,
i tend to sit in the foreign setting.

i do not recognize myself.
holding onto things that weren't even present—
this reads like a séance.
funerals held for feelings that needed strengthening,
got tampered with instead,
burnt down to the very bit.

excuse me as i scream in silence.
look at you, with eyes speaking imagery.
build a connection,
hold the other edge of the phone connected to this wire—
one that wouldn't carry any signals.
but i hope you'll still hear
the music that plays this side—
all the unspoken
that i let bleed through my hide.

masks are unrequired.

i've got an inkling—
you do not understand.
and i do not put it in words.
this, like a myth—uncanny and impossible to uncover.

unless i've got a name to put to this emotion,
i shall drain myself of all words, irrespective—
if it's meant with relating,
or with mirth.

you can only add to my reasons
of why it isn't ever worth.

i like grey

— The End —