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Qwn Apr 2015
Your face is always into sunshine;
It gives hope and clear aura to everyone.
The way your eyes say Hi whenever you smile;
It lessens up a bad vibe not just for awhile.

You are clothed with strength and dignity.
And you laugh without fearing the future and reality.
In the darkest days of your life;
I know you’ll stand tall to find the sunlight.

You won’t bloom to where you’ve planted.
I know you’ll explore more to get started.
It’s your goal for a better life to get;
Pursuing to reach your dreams and to be contented.

You are a flower that will not wither.
It’s because you know how to get yourself watered.
Even in cloudy days turned rainy.
You still know how to make yourself shiny.

Your influence is like spreading seeds;
Planting good vibes to the ones who are in need.
You are a sunshine that lightens up a day.
A sunflower that smiles, feeling like summer.

© Quenniebells, 2015
SRS Dec 2014
I may be young
and often written off because due to my adolescence
but I still feel like everyone else
and I still learn from my lessons
and as the days fly by
and the innocence in my heart lessens
just remember
I was never insane
I just lost track of counting my blessings
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It will start slowly, the way these things often do. It won’t feel slow; in fact, it will seem sudden — you’ll wake up and look over at the space next to you and think that something must have snapped in the night. But it didn’t happen there. We long since abandoned the possibility that anything could happen in your sleep. Everyone needs to spend some time apart. But time apart can tear you apart if you’re not careful, and slowly you will forget how to stitch yourself back together, how to return at the end of the day and fit yourself back into the crook of their neck, into the space between their arm and body like you never even left. The hole you once occupied will close up slowly as you take more and more time to yourself, and it will begin to feel uncomfortable and tight and strange. It will happen in the fights, the ones that spiral quickly from insignificant nothings to personal attacks, the ones that leave you scrambling to salvage the pieces of what you thought was an innocent comment. But we’re only human and we pick at wounds and scabs, and see wet paint and feel the irresistible need to touch it. Because we’re curious. Because we can’t leave well enough alone. Because when we see friction, we want to see the reaction. Things run their course whether or not we’re done with them. Roads end. Sometimes there’s not enough fuse. It’s nobody else’s fault that we came unprepared. When we fall in love, we don’t do it with an endpoint in mind, no expiration date on the horizon. To fall in love is to do the impossible, to promise the one thing you can’t really promise: “Because I care about you, I will not hurt you.” We can’t promise the future though — we can only promise what we want the future to be — and so if and when things fall through, all of the promises hang in the air like so many splintered things. And we turn these tiny, little shards into weapons, turning them on the other person, pelting them with accusations. You said, you lied, you didn’t try hard enough, it’s you, it’s you, it’s you. It’s easier to attack than it is to defend. It’s more cowardly, but it’s always easier to blame. To fall out of love is to admit that something no longer serves you, or them, or the both of you together. There is nothing necessarily wrong with this. But pain or no pain, what once worked doesn’t anymore. What we thought we knew in absolutes turned out to be conditional. Sometimes, we try to stick it out, to see it through, to fix things in the broken places and fall back in love. Sometimes, we do. Sometimes we can come through the other side stronger and look back and laugh and say, hey, remember when we almost didn’t make it? But sometimes, we leap, and we scramble, and we try, and we fail. There’s little consolation in admitting we’ve come up short, and even less in telling someone they deserve someone who loves them. But you cannot take back the memories you shared, and while these sting at first in the way that only fresh wounds can, over time, the pain lessens. Over time, you forget you’re hurting. Over time, you end up feeling a certain shade of numb, as if your love was that hole that you no longer fit. It was there once, you know it was, and so you block off a shrine in your mind to the memories and their face and their voice for as long as you can keep them there. For as long as they’ll stay. And one day, you’ll forget. Slowly. It always happens slowly.  To fall out of love is to compartmentalize them, to move them from your heart to your head, to tell them to stay there in your thoughts while you try to reconcile your emotions. Falling out of love is a curious kind of agony. You might not have wanted to, and yet you still did.
Anger fills my heart and soul
Anger takes a mighty toll
Anger lessens but can never leave
Anger you hope to never receive,
Anger stays forever within
Anger acts with the might of all sin
Anger is deadly to all around
Anger gets mad at the thought of sound
Anger is the thoughts in my head
Anger that’s mine all should dread
Anger for me is different from you
Anger you see tells me what to do
Anger will sit and whisper in my ear
Anger he sits and tells me all that you fear,

He is here
He’s here to stay
Anger is the hole
In which we lay
Anger is
And Anger will
Always be with us

He is in me, and he is in you
He can make you do
What he wants you to
Anger will make you
Make you cry
Anger can make you
Want to die
Anger can make you
Go insane
Anger….. ... A blood filled rain
No more anger
No more…..
Walk to the bright light
Shinning through that door…
Not knowing what’s in store
But even then
Anger lives on
But you… nevermore
Amitava Sur Nov 2014
Knowledge teaches us
How much is our need
Vices inundates
In the swirl of greed.

Increasing knowledge
Lessens the needs
Guides the soul
Towards wisdom and peace

Vices are like
Cancerous germs
Increases the greed
To destroy oneself.

Goal of life
Is to attain love and peace
With greed
We can never reach that place.

Greed is
Like a hunting trap
It allures, attracts
And ruins at last.

Increasing knowledge
Lessens the needs
Guides the a soul
Towards wisdom and peace
Amitava (4.11.2014) 7-00 am

Henry Alexander Jan 2014
Anger fills my heart and soul
Anger takes a mighty toll
Anger lessens but can never leave
Anger you hope to never receive,
Anger stays forever within
Anger acts with the might of all sin
Anger is deadly to all around
Anger gets mad at the thought of sound
Anger is the thoughts in my head
Anger that’s mine all should dread
Anger for me is different from you
Anger you see tells me what to do
Anger will sit and whisper in my ear
Anger he sits and tells me all that you fear,

He is here
He’s here to stay
Anger is the hole
In which we lay
Anger is
And Anger will
Always be with us

He is in me, and he is in you
He can make you do
What he wants you to
Anger will make you
Make you cry
Anger can make you
Want to die
Anger can make you
Go insane
Anger….. ... A blood filled rain
No more anger
No more…..
Walk to the bright light
Shinning through that door…
Not knowing what’s in store
But even then
Anger lives on
But you… nevermore
Why do we fall?...
Madame Eleanor Jun 2014
If you find peace, give me a map.
Cuz I'm looking, can't find my way back. If you reach love, remember me still. I'll let you go if you're more loved there- I promise, I will.

Just don't forget me. I could never forget you. Don't feel badly, I know you thought it's what you had to do. You weren't selfish, just self-preserving. I'd no idea you were unhappy, only now am I learning.

You taught him to love again, and you taught me to trust again. I more than loved you, you were my best friend. Now you're teaching us what it is, to lose again. Thanks for the lesson, I think I've learned by now. Nothing is constant, the ground beneath me's shuffling. And I try to mend my heart but it's crumbling. Without you, I can't reach you.
This I wrote after my stepmom (who is my true mother) told me her and my father were getting a divorce.
Fresh Prince Mar 2014
Anger is the next thing to setting me off,
Even a hug won't make me soft

Anger stays forever within,
Anger acts in all ways of sin

Anger fills my heart and soul,
Anger takes a mighty toll

Anger lessens but can never leave,
Anger you hope to never receive

Anger for me is different from you,
Anger you see tells me what to do

Anger will sit and whisper in my ear,
Anger sits and tells me all that I fear.
Breanna Stockham Jan 2011
Your insecurities change,
all that you hear,
who you are inside,
and how you appear.

It decides what you do,
and what you see,
it lessens what you want,
and who you'll be.

It won't let your dreams,
go as high as the sky,
you stay on the ground,
though you're able to fly.

Won't put your foot forward,
so you go with the flow,
too scared of goodbye,
to think of hello.

You're less than your best,
and a little too late,
your shoulders now carry,
a little more weight.

Slow your mind down,
and stop holding back,
'cause you are what you are,
and not what you lack.
Life’s obstacles can only delay us
from achieving our God-given purpose;
instead of becoming frustrated, we
should look to Christ and just focus

on the underlying issues in prayer.
Obstacles may perfect personal traits,
like having peace by waiting on Him,
so that our hearts are not deflated.

They kick up dust, blinding our vision
whereby, we must go back to Him again;
When our eyes are focused on Christ,
He lights our path and lessens our pain.

Instead of worrying and becoming anxious,
I’ve decided to cast my burdens on Christ,
knowing that He earnestly cares for us;
employing His principles, no real strife

can ever deter us from personal victories.
We’re blessed, from persevering our trials;
for these too, will eventually leave us,
lasting but a short, inconvenient while.
Author notes

Inspired by:
Psa 27:1, 119:2; Isa 41:13; 1 Pet 5:7;
Jam 1:12; Prov 3:5-6  and

"No matter how big or small the obstacles we face in our spiritual journey, as long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will reach our destiny that God has prepared for us beforehand to fulfill in this life, and hence inherit a mighty reward for it in the life to come. Keep your eyes in between the start and end of your faith on Jesus because He is the one who actually starts as the author and also ends as the finisher of your faith, He is able to keep you safe from the drowning of worry and unbelief by His supernatural power to stay afloat to reach your heavenly destination!" —Abraham Israel

Learn more about me and my poetry at:

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Keith Ren Sep 2010
i am the like of you
you're the here of me too
i'm the constance between
you're the love me unseen

i'm the felt top left fence
you're the bareness repents
i'm the take true to leave
you're the endless receive

we're the crawl into two
we're the space that we knew
we're the crashing aboves
we're the pundits of love
i used to know what
i didn't want to write about
Chuck Jan 2013
A square, white, four bedroom, one bath country home
With fourteen kids, parents and much family love
We didn’t have abundance:  fiscally poor
But we had each other:  banked on our family
We shared our victories and or trying pain
We were a modest Scottish Catholic Clan

Isolated, we were not to our immediate clan
Our uncle’s lived within a trot, fifteen in his home
We kids worked and played on the farm without pain
It was an adventurous labor of extended family love
We worked, laughed, cried, and played as a family
In the early years, we young ones were anything but poor

However, in grammar school, we learned the meaning of poor
And materialism and envy, outside our cloistered clan
But together we lived and loved as a close nit family
Sure we had disagreements, not material goods, but a solid home
White paint peeled on the outside, yet inside was painted love
Still, there were poverty jokes, ridicule and masked pain

Every family has strife, baggage, and superfluous pain
Our parents didn’t drink; we had faith, yet fiscally poor
Ole Dad plumbed toilets; Mom slaved in the house, both with love
So we wouldn’t trade riches for our impoverished meager clan
Summer berries to pick, winter sledding, spring kites, and forever home
Kickball games, splashing  in ponds, nature hikes and family

We were not taught to show emotions, hug, not an “I love you family,”
Albeit, an honest, polite, and proud Scottish Clan
The old house was eternally warm; it was our forever home
Until 1999. Dad passed from cancer still money poor
Yet rich in the knowledge of family and that his true pain
Was never saying that word; on his deathbed he whispered “Love”

Though our patriarch was laid to rest, we rose with the word “Love”
Eventually, the house was sold, but always one huge family
Mom spends her days in a retirement home remembering her clan
As time passes and memories fades, it lessens the pain
Of the loss of a noble father, economically poor
Yet with a strong work ethic, church, and love, built a home

Fourteen children now forged fourteen homes on love
Many, still, financially poor, but rich in forever family
Correcting mistakes that caused pain, while perpetuating our clan
Thank you soooo much if you read this Sestina. It is a time-consuming form. I was definitely challenged. This is autobiographical yet set even further in the past. I used old references and a simple language to capture that old country feeling, like the Waltons, for those of you old enough to remember that show.
Thanks again for reading this long Sestina. I hope you enjoyed it. It may be my last.
Christian Dec 2010
I hit a Jack Rabbit going sixty or seventy five,
I turned off the radio,
I was on the road for 18 hours already,
thats when shadows come alive,
I never hit anything before,
never killed anything that big.

When I was 14, I lived in Kansas, Kansas city granted,
but Kansas all the same.
We would go to my friends farm,
he owned enough guns for a small militia,
mostly shotguns.
There were 3 of us, with three scatter killing booms.
We would rake the fields to flush anything out,
we hoped for ducks or quail
(I only pretended too, I wasn't sure then if my ***** really dropped)
and we would shoot,
Sometimes for the noise,
other times for the show.
I never killed anything.
On the way back home I saw a little chickadee perched high in a tree,
I shot,
and he fell.
"Nice one man!"
I ran over, hiding my tears, and buried him.
I got out of there as soon as I could, Kansas that is,
I was stuck at the farm.

Eight years later and I'm still not sure about my *****.
This time I didn't bury him.
I like to think it was male,
for some reason that lessens the pain.
I don't know if I crushed the life out of him quickly,
I imagine it was slow,
toturing myself with every detail as my retribution.

Made a nice thump though.
I could feel his delicate body even through the tire the shocks and the rest of the parts between me and his ****** corpse.

Softer than a speed bump.
Why did Dorothy ever go home.
Your thoughts...

the title?
NoctOwl Jul 2017
I love physics
And I know why
I love physics because
Physics is like you to love

When I look at you
You smile
The light from the sun
Helps you glow to my eyes

When you say something, I listen
I clearly hear your voice
And hear every single detail you say
Because when you speak
The other sounds cancel each other
So that your voice
Is the only sound I can hear

I love physics because
I can feel it on you
When I’m dazed and confused, you slap my face
It makes me calm
It’s the way you say to me
“I am here so don’t worry”
When it happens that we swap position
I’ll kiss you and show my love to you
In that way I can say
“Being sad doesn’t suit you”

When I am cold, you hug me
I hug you when you are cold too
These simple hugs mean
I love you and you love me too

I know you don’t want a selfish person
So I am persevering to change myself for you
My care for myself lessens
Now, I don’t know
Where I should put those cares that I take
Do you have any idea?
What if, I will put it all to you?
So every time my care for myself decreases
My care for you will increase

I love physics because
Physics makes me alive
Just the way you do
Because I can’t live without you

When we are far apart, I worry
But I know you are fine
Because when something bad happened to you
It will happen to me also
When your heart stop to beat
My heart will stop too
Because you know
My life is in series with you
When you are switched ‘on’
Then I will be ‘on’
When someone shut you ‘off’
My life will be turned ‘off’

I like you because
I don’t know why but
Everything is nicer with you
How much do you weigh?
I think you are heavier than me
Maybe that’s the reason why
I fell in love to you
As Albert Einstein said,
“Mass is a force alone”
So your force overcomes me

I guess I don’t know why I really love you
Why do I also love physics?
I think I love you. . .
I guess I love physics. . .
Because physics is you
Meggie D Oct 2012
Wedged between the here & now, what difference does it make? Brain waves plummet..creating an even louder silence between these frail walls. They pulse with reason, veins sickly humming. Vocabulary lessens until communication falters. Let's grunt at one another over cheap pizza & a flickering television. Let's make a life together.
Whenever I'm in pain
I just whisper
"I'm a Marine I'm a Marine I'm a Marine"
Because Marines are the strongest
The first to fight
The few, the proud
I can't wait until I claim the title
And live up to my name
But before that, I believe
I am a Marine
And the pain always lessens
Earth's children cleave to Earth--her frail
  Decaying children dread decay.
Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale,
  And lessens in the morning ray:
Look, how, by mountain rivulet,
  It lingers as it upward creeps,
And clings to fern and copsewood set
  Along the green and dewy steeps:
Clings to the fragrant kalmia, clings
  To precipices fringed with grass,
Dark maples where the wood-thrush sings,
  And bowers of fragrant sassafras.
Yet all in vain--it passes still
  From hold to hold, it cannot stay,
And in the very beams that fill
  The world with glory, wastes away,
Till, parting from the mountain's brow,
  It vanishes from human eye,
And that which sprung of earth is now
  A portion of the glorious sky.
Mike Finney Dec 2011

Go ahead and gorge yourself upon gallons of gaudy garments,
Gaining more weight got by galling garish goods I guess won’t

Let loose to the luscious luxuries of lackluster lemon and
Lots of lulling bedtime letters that will surely let at bay the

Unravel your unctuous mind and unwrap the unstoppable urge
That undeniably lives under unruly layers of

Together bring the talk of taking another tackle to your taciturn tally,
Taller the score and take down the tormenting tickling

Over and over in obscure ovals until objective becomes apparent
Only leaving orbs of former obliqueness’ obliging to

Never again nourish the need to negate the null to nonsense,
Leave behind the knots of then and live the neat of

Yesterday was yellow in yielding to yearning and
Today is your yet to the question of no or


Gradualy every great thing grounded in your gaudy life will grain,
Falling from grander to

Run away you realize will render you ridiculously reeled
Be the regal recall of natures

Even then elude the everlasting elasticity of your sins
Only to elect your own faults and

Evermore entrapped in the entity of your greed which eels
Its way through your

****** to depths of hell’s dungeons you will go down
If you never fix your


Wound so tightly your will won’t save you when the
Day weans of light to

Repent all you require if you really must, no reprise
Will be your

Again and again you’ve all but alleged all of your agitations
And now do you

Too many you take to the top and through to the terrible
Tale of

How do you have your hallowed hot-headed hate now
Had by all you


Silently slithering fangs strike and pierce into your supple skin
The serpent of Hades himself forcing you to succumb to
your sloth

Legs let leave your longing to linger standing
The lull of the luscious leisure of laziness
Calling you

Over and over you omit the need to oblige
Object the obscurities and overcompensate the

Though it takes away tell of your toes, stunning your talk
Teathering you to a tree and leaving you to the

However hollow the halo, the hearth of hasty hearts, may be,
you cannot halt it before is has you in its hold


Linger in line a little longer until your litenous lust
lessens to lethargic

Undone and unset you undermind your unity
and uncite all uncertainty, understand to this

Slung across a slat singing sultry in your stipple,
you slew to sound off your

Taught thoughtless logic tenderly apply topical treatment
to tape together the tatters, tonight a temporary


Eject and exact illusions of elected goals eluding your reason
So eject them for

Never return, never negate the negligence of this nuisance,
Need it

Vanquish your venomous vicarious visions so vivid
I assure you not very

Yearn no more and yearn by years how yellow
Can yell the


Perniciously palpable pigs of pride that so prate way their progress,
Putting all but prosperity in their own

Ridiculously cold rendering the most righteous of realist,
Even relenting to the racketeering of a

I too see an iota of insolence in intemperate impostors
Of what internal instances tell us is

Down the street dally a day and discover how detrimental
Such a disease dilutes the delineation of our past

Even if one ever eludes the elasticizes of this eccentric extortionist
Eventually another will emit it upon to you again
The Wicca Man Sep 2012
Stand on the edge and look down ....

It is so far down that reality blurs
into an abstract haze.

Is it solid ground,
soft verdant green
that will envelop you in its caress as you land?

Is it hard concrete that waits
to shatter-splatter you into a liquid pool?

Is it that empty eternal void
you tumble into night on night,
as you clutch at your throat,
as you gasp for that last, lingering breath?

Perhaps it is Death
that awaits you in his welcoming grasp?

Stand on the edge and look down …

The ground is giving way beneath your feet.
Your heartbeat rises to a crescendo in your chest.
You cannot breathe.
Frantically, you grab at the cloth by your neck.
Your legs are weak.
You feel the earth crumbling away.
Your eyes stare wild and wide.

A scream echoes ghastly, panicked,
reverberating around you
in a maelstrom of despair.

Is this your voice?

Stand on the edge and look down …

only scant seconds remain.
What will you do?

Dare you step back?
Can you will your shrieking mind to comprehend, to obey?
And if you do,
are you safe?

Reach behind you,
go on, you can ....

Feel it?
The wall, rough and damp?
Touch it,
grasp at it,
your scrabbling fingers
shredded and bleeding from the sharp rock
it doesn't matter.

Find a purchase
and drag yourself towards it,
rest your clammy face against the rough-hewn stone,
caress the damp rock with your cheek,
ignore the ****** tears that course down your face,
breathe again;

Your chest heaves,
your mouth agape
drawing in draughts of cold air.
The pounding of your heart lessens.

Now close your eyes,
sleep, sleep ...
Brycical Feb 2012
it seems
every time we talk
our cacophonous
voices don't sing.

The harmony's off--
lost it's charming ring.
The tye-dye mind's eye melody
is mellowing into a gray spring.

And I'm wondering why?

I think I know.
Only asked cause
I was hopin' you might hum some other musical notes,
ones that won't turn this song into a black swan dive
forced to call the huntin' dogs to track
back to a time where you and I laughed freely.

But there's this feeling
that this is how your other he must have felt
while you and me were undoing our belts--
yelling & screaming
as my parents were sleeping
upstairs above--
we played each other like saxophones
to this grand Nirvana relaxed crescendo!

But as this poem progresses
the tempo stiffens--
    your voice lessens--
as the harmony's off-key
and the melody's riff softens.
It's not hitting me hard like a gong-
feels like two people singing
different lyrics into the same microphone.
Someone with synesthesia can see
our colorful speech atrophy
instead of pirouetting in turquoise dreams.

If that sounds harsh,
sorry, that's the reality I perceive--
we don't want each other to leave,
But our avoidance of labeling
what we are also established what we weren't
and now this playful...thing? we had
feels like a breaking carafe as it hits the floor.

I want to continue writing you more poems and songs
but it's hard when the harmony's off-key
and losing it's charm.
   This new lentando^ tempo's like a left arm going numb.
I want to keep composing
but it feels like water
instead of kerosine pouring
on the fire that was inspiring
as this mournful melody dilates throughout my being.
^gradually slowing

Don't judge this based on content. I mainly wrote this because of the rhythm and here is the result.
Claire Waters Mar 2014
“Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout ******* and ovaries rather than ***** and *******;to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable feminity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonomous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to ****** them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night...”*
-Sylvia Plath

all the streets i’ve walked become a neat little maze
under crete is a labyrinth
under los angeles is a cage
in my head forms a neat little map
cover your legs with your napkin
the monster in my head
says to cover my back

she’s looking for a sweet little life
she’s slumping over in her seat looking white
she may seem a little lifeless because she is
are you okay, are you okay?
are you?

you put on a little periwinkle dress
you reign in your red hair with barrettes
now you shed the little periwinkle dress
in a gas station bathroom
to be less like a girl and more like
the smoke in your lungs
the pain in your heartstrings

you rip your red hair from the barrettes
it doesn’t feel good anymore
they don’t feel right
you go to goodwill and stare at the men’s button ups
in gaudy patterns and colors
shaken and sleight like your mind
some people’s eyes just chill your bones
you think it is safer to wear camouflage
in a city where pretty little girls
are devoured by minotaurs
when they wander out alone

don’t think about strange boys on the boardwalk
who are stuck in your sun glared eyes
the less you told
keep telling yourself it was wise
the lies you told
keep replaying through your mind
the wall rears it’s head
when he says the word *****
you ignore the warnings
you ignite the warnings
you forgot the warnings
hand him the lighter and watch them burn

they say they can feel your lightness
you tell them you are looking for a life full of light
and it lessens, as the sun drops
learn your lesson
they only want one thing
and you don’t want to think about it
but eventually they say what they really think
what they rashly think
what they readily think
the sniffing nose around the corner
you barely blink
the bull shows you the horns
you know you stink vulnerability

and you always get up to leave
just in time, the warnings
you disappear back into your well memorized labyrinth
your body and mind are warring
the minotaur is bearing down
the moments are fleeting but you carry the feeling
the moments are feeble but the fear keeps on teething

maybe tonight
you can do something different
try not to haunt
every place that you live in
the feminine
skyblueandblack Dec 2014
Why is it so hard to find and keep love?
And why is the pain of the heart so much worse than the pain of the body?
And why does it seem that a death is more bearable than accepting that someone left you -
because in death they had no choice.

You walk away from each other with so many memories not yet created;
so much remaining unsaid,
so many dreams unshared,
because suddenly it doesn’t seem safe to share.
One moment that person is the closest soul to you;
and the next moment,
before even a full breath is taken,
that person is almost a stranger.

And the unsaid words consume you.

wanting to ask: if you love me,
why did you leave me?
wanting to tell you how much I miss you,
but knowing that I shouldn’t.
wanting to ask you to re-consider,
but knowing that I wouldn’t.

Thoughts dominate your every waking moment;
you sleep less yet you cannot stand being awake
because the pain is too much.
You try to occupy your mind with other things, other people – movies, reading, work, travel -
but nothing else exists.
A phantom of you carries you on with life, a shell gliding through the motions;
smiling in response to a smile,
laughing on cue…
When all you want is be away from it all,
lulled in the cocoon of your own thoughts,
wrapped in the blanket of the dark recesses of a place where you can finally break down,
surprised to find that sometimes the healing is worse than the break.

But fighting it takes too much effort,
Strangely, you find peace in giving in to the pain.
Because beneath the facade,
your soul is dissecting every word previously said.
His words run like a coiled fuse
across your mind and around your heart:
I can’t believe you’re mine“.

Behind the mirror of your eyes you are replaying every encounter;
trying so desperately to understand why;
wondering if you said something wrong,
did something wrong..
if maybe you had done things differently…
trying to make sense of what can never make sense.
needing answers you know you will never get.
You go through so many emotions,
so many conflicting feelings..
torn between anger and pain,
confusion and denial,
love and hate,
blame and understanding -

wanting to forget and wanting to hold on to the memories..
wanting to delete those pictures and wanting to save them forever.
and the cycle repeats.
.. and repeats..

Every moment, every memory, becomes so much clearer,
so much sharper -
like a razor blade in your mind;
more deeply engraved into the psyche of your soul.

And the reminders are everywhere..
because he was a part of your life, every part
and you thought it was forever.

You try so hard to forget..
But it ended too soon, and seems so senseless
like throwing away a bouquet of flowers before it even begins to wilt.

You tell yourself that people are who they are.
We cannot change them or ask them to want or be something they don’t want.
That no matter what they do to us, we have to accept that they are on their own personal journey.
And it is their right to seek their path as they see fit.

Perhaps that is how we grow, how we learn.
Perhaps their purpose in our life was simply to light that spark– and the rest is up to us.
Perhaps the purpose of Love is to always seek it, sometimes find it..
but never keep it.
perhaps Love is not ours for the keeping..

Your friends try to be there for you,
Offering an understanding ear to unburden your soul,
but your soul wants to hold on to its burden.
Offering a shoulder to cry on,
but no shoulder has enough strength for the load you carry.
Offering arms to embrace you,
but no arms will suffice when the only arms you want to fall into are those of the one who left you.
Offering sympathetic words that only serve to bring forth more of the tears you’re trying so hard to keep at bay..
You cannot risk letting anyone into the fragile sanctum of your Being as the wound is still precariously tender,
and the slightest quiver may open up floodgates you feel may never close again.

But Time passes by,
slowly but inevitably.
And, mercifully, the pain lessens a little each time you sleep and awaken.
The days alone become tolerable,
The nights that were once filled with loneliness become tranquil in solitude.
The once constant agony becomes the occasional twinge
when you smell a certain scent,
when you pass by the restaurant where you once shared a booth and enjoyed a meal,
when you see a happy couple holding hands as they walk by,
when you pass the place he first asked to hold your hand, and you shared your first kiss,
when you see the commercial for the television show you used to watch together that you can not bear to watch again
when you see a mildly familiar silhouette,
or in the hint of a smile that is almost like the one you remember,
or in the intense gaze of a passing stranger that is reminiscent of the one that haunts your dreams.

…and you can finally smile though the tears because the memories,
while once only painful -
are now painfully beautiful.

The pain passes but the beauty remains..

..and one day you realize you no longer count your growth in years,
but in the number of times your heart had been broken,
then scarred and healed again ~
like the growth rings of a tree,
growing stronger in the process.

“It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.” ~George Bernard Shaw
glass can Jul 2013
I miss the crickets. I miss the frogs.
I miss the smell of my skin, my perfume in my bed next to wood and hot night air that speaks more to things of mystery than the dark of the night can.
I miss the sky.

No, I really miss the sky.
The crop of trees and the clarity that allows for you to look at galaxies and talk about what it is
and how small it feels to be human.

How mortal it feels to be willed to wants at the tug and pull of every emotion.

I miss them.
I miss them.

I miss their arms, tangled legs, and sweaty curls.

Their smell that differentiated from the nape of their neck to their cheek to their thigh.
The sweetness of their salvia. The unbounded love. The innocence. The fresh, sensitive pain.

I am numb. I yearn for something greater such that my heart aches and I tremble with premature grief every time I close my eyes and breathe. I think of your face. Not a day has gone by.

I love your memory. I pray it lessens in it's hurt, but that it never leaves me.

I miss those California stars.
Zak Krug Nov 2013
I feel my head exploding,
splitting really,
into a thousand clouds of
An uncharted breakdown
that is so very familiar.
People should be held accountable for
the actions of others.
The pressure lessens its grip on
my spinal cord.
The musical adaptation of my life
blossoms before my very eyes.
Seen through a dream catcher
that is broken with
nightmares of fallen ancestors.
forgive me for rambling.
Words are hypnotic and
let me forget about
the ringing in my head.
A thousand decibels of silence,
They are forgotten by society.
Forced to live in gangways with cockroaches and
the pages of old leather bound books.
They leave on
a wing and
a prayer.
Bathed in dust and dirt,
they hear the barking of the pitbull
inside my head.
Brought down by the blade.
I once observed a church being boarded up,
blocking out the elements and homeless.
It was calming.
Does that make me a horrible person?
Eerily beautiful.
I wish I could go back to that moment in time,
frozen in place.
My head explodes.
Can you hear the bell tower ringing Quasimodo?
Chimes louder than a bomb,
falling through the rotted out wood.
It's for the best.
The Horseman didn't need a head.
The silence will bring me back.
our actions now
are our actions now.
Ring the bell!
Dark soul Feb 2015
"Distance lessens up the sense on its way from there to here but it only lessens that sense ; it doesn't make it fade away ,
so yes I feel a little bit of it "
            ~I replied .
For her ...that instagirl :* ♥
Time is the ruin of humankind's love for all. Nothing shall be loved long after its gone, as unfeigned too which it was in its lively form. Humans are but ghoulish creatures; to whom nothing is rightfully sacred. Human kind should be as pious to life as most are to their gods they claim had made all in his image. They try to make us believe with their disenchanting tales of greatness that you hear of as a naïf adolescent. As society crumbles to the sound of our own beating drum, another builds up of mindless drones that feel no pity towards anyone. There is no one to accuse but ourselves In this spiral of disillusion. As time ventures forward into the endless span of time, our morality lessens, as do our feelings towards what we should cherish.
Benjamin Adams Jan 2012
We all know
what to do
on land
in sun.
Laugh and share
love and care.
But what about
the deep?
What about
the underneath?
Lessons taught
don't compare
to the devil's lair in blue.


into an ocean,
bottomless and blue.
Oh yes it's deep
no bottom in sight to keep,
certainly no surface.
I kick as told,
through the cold.
Glad I took
swimming lessons.
But even so,
my swimming lessens.
I stared at the big blue cloud,
It was in my hands,
It was so blue that it depressed me
But it was only fluffy candy

I picked a piece from the cloud
I digested it with my eyes and soul,
It was the brightness to a child's life
It was my only happiness

You look at candy,
As sweetness to your life,
but to me it was more,
It was the only freedom I had in the world

I bit into the blue sweetness
As it dissolved in my mouth,
It dissolved my pain,
I was sure everything would be fine again

Then, when the cotton got stuck between my teeth,
So did my hopes and dreams.
I felt like a fool for believing
A fool for trying

A tear slid down my cheek
Making the candy bittersweet
No Cotton Candy can make it go away
Rewrite my story

When they fought and screamed,
I'd try find my happy place,
Eat my sweet Blue Candy,
And just pray it away

I've tried everything
Clovers to Rabbit's Feet,
But this heavenly cloud
was the only price to pay

If my life was all drunk and dead
Would it **** to find my demise-free zone
And just eat some Cloudy Candy instead?

If wishes came true,
With every bite I took
I would have father with me
A Mother to love me

I kept eating the candy though
Even if it didn't taste heavenly anymore
Tears kept streaming down with every bite
I kept the harshness inside

The faster I ate, the more it hurt,
I couldn't swallow the lumps in my throat,
The pain developed inside of me,
Like a tumour, I was a waste, never needed.

You eat all the Candyfloss in the world, it won't work.
It just sweetens the pain, lessens the hurt.
This is dedicated to two people. First, being Nicole Ann Osborn because she is the most amazing poet, to me. I look up to her, and please check her out, she's really good.

Second being Tawanda WT Mulalu, because he loves this poem and he's an amazing friend.  Check him out too, he's also a great poet.
Nessa dieR Jul 2015
I simply can't
Time doesn't heal all wound.
"The wounds remain,
over time the mind,
protecting its sanity
covers them with scar tissue
and the pain lessens
but it never leaves"*
"...unrequited love does not die
it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides,
curled and wounded.
For some unfortunates,
it turns  bitter  and  mean,
and those who come after
pay the price for the hurt done
by the one who came before.”
2 quotes in one:
Rose Kennedy & Elle Newmark
Dhaye Margaux Aug 2014
I come into a place
where everything is floating
It is a dark place for me,
nothing will pass into my liking

The houses are haunted
and thorns are everywhere
It is like a dangerous forest,
all paths lead to nowhere

At first I am scared
and I want to run away
Creatures have different languages,
I don't understand what they say

Everyone seems grinning
Like they want to tear me apart
What else would I think and do
If I feel they would break my heart?

But I have nowhere to go
so I decided to take the risks
I am scared but there's little courage
I am gripping with my fists

With the flicker of hope I wander
to study the mysterious place
Bit by bit I learn something,
enough to cope within each phase

Until I find little creatures
that thriving on a haunted tree
When I stop nearer to them,
they seem so scared, so afraid of me

I feel that sadness, I am bothered,
why they're afraid, I'm just harmless
My little hands could do nothing,
I just want to watch them exist

But  suddenly one of them comes
closer and flies in front of me
I realize it want to be handled
so I open my hand and let it be

It settles down on my open hand
while I walk around, it is my light
And I'm thankful for the little lamp
now I have lessen my fright

A little light that gives me hope
it makes me strong and lessens my load
That tomorrow I can find the way
to get out of this darkest road...
Sometimes answers come in unexpected forms...
Lily Nov 2015
Every little trouble keeps me up at night
Even the littlest difficulty makes me worry,
Every inch of step back lessens my already exhausted faith,
Even the slightest of pain makes me want to quit.
I don't know why
But i'm so ******* weak.
Gary Gibbens Nov 2011
The years have slowly stretched out
In the dry space of the heart
Dust has gathered
Dreams of joyful music
Of barefoot boys and maids stringing garlands of flowers
While children giggle
These images fade into the unreality of foolishness
And now my dancing girl lives far away
I only hold her electronically
I can see but not touch

In the secret place of the heart
There are only graves
Mausoleums of love
Fading pictures
Faces turned away
Silence and remorse

Now I step slowly
In dry rocks, broken by sun and wind
The light is flat, glaring
Tongue swollen
It is not the heat that lessens my hope
It is not the sullen hissing of broken stone
It is the horizon never changing
Unrelenting dry hills
Even the color of crumbling ochred rock
Is unchanging

What had been a vague fear
Is now visceral
There is only death here
An ending

Surely somewhere there is moisture
A brackish pool
A muddy well

I dream of water splashing
Sprays of kindly blue
A shy deer bending down
A hint of green in the vastness of empty brown
Maybe a small bird
Some sense of softness, tenderness

Even the light is fading now
Like Eliot, I wonder
Is there someone beside me, unseen
an unknown companion?
Only illusions I suppose

So blindly the journey continues
No direction, no real goal
But the stumbling walk itself is all.
I am rambling ...
I am gambling..
A drug dealer run the streets with the hammer man
No mechanic man
But precision handling Jason Statham
The question is God do you love him or you hate him..
Hey  ******* you know when you **** her ..
You **** him.. you understand you need him..
Like a tree first needs to be planted a seedling .
This world will show you what evil is..
A heart without God is where evil lives..
So check this .
Lyrically I perplex them
Those without class unlearned to the Holy Spirit lessons
So my word heard as a curse instead of a blessing
As the moral fabric lessens
Or fades..
My ink stains the page..
I write eternally watch this stand the rain..
Struck by lighting
My heart is still fighting
The thoughts of the lost getting saved is exciting
I ramble..
Lyrically lethal Rambo...
Strike with a knife when I run out of ammo
I meant the sword
The Word
That truth scripture..I don't blend in no camo
I have been walking for days camel.
I have been talking for days Orphan
She dumb rich why not stop working
Cause she out for that green  okra
How much is enough.  
Trying to carry that bag of cash through the portal of death going be tough..
Present day Pharaoh..
Heaven no Hell yes..
Cannot make it to heaven carrying this ****** flesh.  
I am rambling. .
I am gambling standing on a limp..
For God ...You ever drown or swim
Dive in..
JK Cabresos Jan 2012
leavens life,
lessens lavish lust,
longs Lord's LIGHT.
© 2012
Tony Scallo Oct 2014
This goes out to all that choose,
To suffer in silence
As if it can’t be subdued

The people that think,
Not even a shrink
Could understand their feelings
Even if written in ink

This goes out, to all the brave souls,
That navigate their ship
Alone to their goals

The kind that believe
That their inner beliefs
Only upset others
Making silence, your grief

It’s time to wake up!
Speak your words,
Listen up

The time has come now,
To stop this hiccup

People will judge what we do, and we may not like it
But if you never speak out,
You’ll get trapped in your psychs grip

Lonely and cold
Walking a winding dark road
Without human emotion
From others to be bestowed

Upon you, cause it’s true
Everything that we do
Has it’s place in this world
Through venom and virtue

We may no be perfect
But there’s nothing that is
Even the universe was created
Through the concept of this

Imperfection introspections
Helps us learn our life lessons
So speak up and speak out
Before your inner-self lessens
Mikaila Oct 2013
I have nothing I want. But somehow I have everything I want.
I didn't get the girl. I didn't get the part.
It eats me up inside that she ignores me. It levels me that I wasn't good enough.
She's beautiful and it hurts, and sometimes I can't help but remember her tenderness, her hand on my cheek, her smile warming the world, her soft lips,
And her ****** promises that I believed.
Belief is terribly dangerous, and terribly traumatic, even if it only happens for the barest of seconds.
I'd cry about it, but I'm terrible at crying- nothing comes out even when I try.
But...there's this other girl.
I haven't known her long, either,
But the other night we were curled up in bed and suddenly
I started crying,
And I didn't know why but I couldn't stop.
I cried for everything I have lost, and everything I know I am losing.
I can't remember the last time I couldn't stop myself from showing an emotion, and I was truly terrified.
I think it was her hands on me. Her arms around me. Her understanding eyes.
I felt safe to and...
I just broke, and the tears poured out, because I've failed
And it hurts
And it's hurt for years,
And I keep failing,
And I think the reason I fail is that I try so hard, but I try in fear that I will fail for lack of trying.
And she just accepted it all and told me it was alright.
I didn't see the fear in her eyes, I didn't see the need to run from my need.
I saw only the same empathetic, frank calm I know shows in my eyes when I see somebody cry, because I love their truth and I want to know it.
I think that is why it took a very long time for me to regain control of myself.
Even though I've lost,
Even though I am not good enough for the people who decide who sings and who doesn't,
Or the girl who kissed me and then chose to walk away with my heart,
Or frankly, most of the world,
Who would shame me for the shameless way I am forced into love and my inability to shut up about it,
Even though I will keep on failing because I am too scared of regret to try any less than my hardest-
A trying that scares people and loses me things-
Even though, ALL of that... I am good enough for this girl.
That's the thing, see. I have nothing I want.
But when I'm with her I don't care that I have nothing I want.
I don't need it when she's there.
I don't need it all for a while, and I can BREATHE,
And I've never had that.
It's a different love than I've ever experienced. I've never loved someone in a way that hasn't ****** me dry and left me empty.
Sad, but true.
Sometimes I am loved in return for my love, but always it takes from me,
It requires a sacrifice in blood.
This, with her, whatever it is,
It asks nothing.
What it takes is offered, what it gives is wanted,
It is an easy thing.
For 18 years I've needed comfort, and I remember getting it once, ever, before I met this girl.
And now whenever I am brittle and close to despair, I can last until I can see her,
And somehow the pressure lessens when I do.
So, despite all the failures I see coming,
All the falls and the bruises and the crushing disappointments that, let's face it, I set myself up for
By being a patron of a brutal kind of love,
I have discovered that there is a balm, a comfort,
Someone who will give what I need and want what I offer.
And that is, honestly, probably the only reason that I don't feel broken, even after all the things in these past weeks that would have broken me before.
So yeah, it's true.
I have nothing I want.
But I have everything I need,
Everything I always dreamed I'd have but never came close to finding.
Funny, how I always seem to be in the in between. I'm forever in the halfway, if I am happy.
But this is different, still. This is new.
Because when I am with her and I think of all that I've lost and all that I know I am losing by the second,
I can't feel the hurt that comes with it.
It's distant. It's a fact, but it doesn't... MATTER.
And I have never met anybody who can heal me like that,
Ever. And I think she knows that.
And I am honestly excited and inspired to find ways to thank her and give to her.
And for once, I am allowed to be, because I know she will not reject what I give.

— The End —