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Craig Verlin Aug 2014
So very many people speak
that so very little is ever said.
Words pour in from all around,
surrounding, inundating
those who dare listen.

The little overheard
through the din
is oft rathered to have
gone unheard after all.
It is so very unfortunate.
Here, my addition to it.
It was as fast as the northern leaves falling
Along with the winter breeze
The window was at a high altitude
And I can smell the crispiness of the coffee bean.

It was another strange coffee break
At first, I thought the clouds hindered me
From seeing you
But they're so soft and smooth to the touch --
Touched by the very eyes of fierce look.

I saw green pastures everywhere
As if it has never experienced any famine
As if the clouds are always present
To boast out their shades
And there I knew, that we were almost there.

There were no drops that lingered on the waters
Like debris or ashes of the ones who first got their defaults
It was a loss to their existence
That they rathered ****** themselves
And there was the loss of words
As they shuttered their doors and windows.

I foresee the upcoming thought
That this iron barrier shall set me free
From any fear that arises from within
Whenever I think that I'm about to fall
But to sail was never a choice to be made
In these lateral movements that were never in shell
He that rescuing the cry,
The hunger has died
And death itself was known to its end.

I felt my feet having wrinkles from waiting
And my ears heard murmurs of tiredness of being
My mouth was shut, never devoured by any words
Nor any mischiefs
For once I thought,
I was there
But I'm ready to leave with no second thought.
Jamie F Nugent Apr 2016
He slipped those chords in, because
She was a Goth and he thought
She'd be impressed.
He had always been a sucker for
The type she was.

He could not help but submit
Into her being,
Into her eyes, her dark green eyes,
Into her voice, her soft as silk voice,
Into her brown hair, dyed darkest black,
Into her red rosy lips,stained shades of purple lipstick,
Into her ghostly pale skin, forever untouched by a sun,

Her name was Susan, but she rathered Siouxie,
That was what he called his obsession,
His teenage lust.
That burning feeling, that stumbled over him,
Like the edges of the sea crawling over the sand,
Until there was nothing left in him,
But that feeling, and
His knowing that he had to do something about it.

-Jamie F. Nugent
TangerineBlu3 Aug 30
but, rather I my pain eternalised-

a line to- of the worst kind surmise.

for I had rathered not lose my scar-torn, lovelorn heart~
though the choice was not mine.

~as well as my tangerine-tint of memories- sordid apparel of the bitterest find-
fit for a teasing, lusting, satirically-sad mind
Britni Ann Feb 2019
I didn’t know that you needed help too.
Maybe if I knew then then things would be different.
But the thing is, I still needed you.
I needed you to be strong.
To tell me it was it all going to be okay.
That I would fall, break, get up, and climb again.
I wanted you to tell me that I didn’t have to suffer in silence.
But I suffered. And I stayed silent.
I might be strong but I would have rathered had a friend.

— The End —