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Miguel Sep 2018
Replaying a riff four times perfectly
One missed fret and the entire day ends disastrously
Replaying moments of kindness and warmth
To overcome the feverish idea that I hold no heart

Every fourth step, threes end in ******
Maimed images constantly creep
This subconscious ludovico technique
These thoughts come and go in no particular order

A seat at the table and a serviette on my lap
What if I leapt out my chair and suddenly attacked?
What if I aimed the knife towards my hand?
I constantly question if that’s who I am

I will have a picnic with her today, all joy and cheer
When these intrusive thoughts will inexplicably get near
And terrorize my attitude as well as my image
Disassociating with a perplexed and horrified visage

I’m so incredibly tired of existing
A cruel and ironic fate
I’ve missed out on so many opportunities
All because of this miserable headspace
Tom Leveille Jul 2014
i always thought
you were thru traffic
that you were just jet lag
background noise
the kiss in the rain
i've never had
but what if you aren't?
what if this
was the thousandth time
i have loved you?
what if this is just a fresh coat of paint?
what if god
keeps a handkerchief
soaked in the day we met
next to his bed?
maybe theres a reason
i reach for no one in bed
the way i would
if someone used to be there
you know, they say
the road behind us
is littered with things
we couldn't hold onto
i wonder how many times
you've slipped through my hands
like hour glass sand
do you know
how much erosion you've caused?
i heard cupid
stopped keeping count
of how many times
we came together
just to come apart again
maybe it was just a rumor
it makes me think
about how many times
i've almost had you
like if all this talk
about history repeating itself
endlessly replaying is true
i wonder how many times
things have happened already
like the time
i tried talking you
into loving me back
back fired
or the time i could have sworn
jesus & lazarus were playing chess
with my heartbeat
but it was only you smiling
how many times
have i tried to tell you
how many times
have you read this poem
how many times
have i tried not to meet you
in my dreams anymore
it's like sleep tries to warn
me of what's happening
before it does but
i keep having this dream
where i tell you bedtime stories
and each one
is a different way you die
and in every one
i can never save you
it's like you're this song
i have on repeat
and every time it starts over
i forget the words
it's like you picked up the book entitled "us"
and the back cover
said you'd leave
so you never bothered reading it
tell me you aren't
going back in that bookstore
just to do it again
or will you tell me tomorrow?
or is this the time
you don't say anything at all?
if this has all happened before
if we call it quits
before we begin
again
from the beginning
i just want to ask you
to be my fire
because i am tired
of these old lives
and i'd like to see them
burn
Anastasia C Mar 2017
When you love someone who doesn't love you back your world ends.

When you love someone who doesn't love you back you keep pumping love. You are so oblivious and eager that you give them so much love. No matter what they won’t give it back.

When you love someone who doesn't love you back. You feel nothing but absolute pain and sorrow. You feel like there nothing left except the love that won't be taken. Your love is so strong and there’s so much that it floods you.

When you love someone who doesn't love you back. You feel hopeless because of all the love you gave this person and how much you'd do for love in return. You'd give them all the time in the world, all the love in the world. You still do this relentlessly even though they wont give you five minutes when you need that five minutes.

Being in love with someone who doesn't love you back is a burning red pain. It's a pain like nothing else because no matter what you do, no matter what medicine or treatment you give to that pain it's still there. It's there when you see his face, hear his voice, remember his touch. It's always there.

When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, you don't have to worry too much about them intentionally hurting you. That's because everything small memory you've over analyzed hits you across the face over and over. You're constantly hating yourself because this one person was so important to you and now he's gone. “I should've done..” “Why was I so..” “No wonder he doesn't..” Those thoughts are toxic and seizes up your body.

When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, you get so ******* close to hating them. You hate that they've ripped you open, eaten you up and have left you to decay. You hate that they have let you hate yourself more than you could ever hate them. You hate them because of the things they gave you which weren't all good. And the things they stole. Like crying on their shoulders which they gave, but your pride they took.

When you're in love with someone for the first time and they don't love you back, you never want to fall in love again. You never want attachments with anyone because of this substantial pain that is constantly there. You never want to kiss with love, talk with love, witness love. You never want love unless, it's that one person you love. That's the only thing that matters. Love had a horrible reputation, it's either make it or ******* break it. Not take it.

When you're hurt by someone who can't feel pain, you wish you never fell in love. Never in lust, never started talking, never meeting. You wish you could erase their smell so you wouldn't ever have to think about why you remember it so well. You wish you can't vividly remember how their arms felt and how they were once so welcoming.

When you love someone who doesn't love you back, you are pathetic. You cry in bed while replaying your first kiss, first date, the time you fell asleep together. You can remember every feeling from the first time you felt love to the first time your heart skipped a beat because, well, it was ending. You remember the goosebumps running down your back when you last touched his hand as you left his car. That was the last time you'd be in his car. And that was the last time you touched his leathery skin that was wet from your tears. And that was the last time he would know how much you loved him.

You replay every memory over and over until they're worn out. And after they're worn out you can't ever get new ones. You love this person and you will for a long, long time. But they won't ever love you. They won’t get those stomach tickles when you hear their name. They wont miss having their chapped lips against your neck tickling you elegantly. Because to them that doesn't matter, they didn’t feel love.

When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, it's almost impossible to stop loving them. No matter what you do. No matter what they did. No matter how it hurts. No matter what, you will love them.

When you love someone who doesn’t love you back, you are incapable of stopping because you are paralyzed.
I am not feeling these things anymore, i wrote this after a breakup. This breakup was very hard for me, I never really felt worse in my life. The pain was horrible and I will never forget it. I hope to never feel this way towards someone again because as of right now, I don't want to love like this ever again. Theres so much emotion that goes into one person and it was so one ended for me. Ive grown from this and learned from this. l
s y k Oct 2018
I've heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder;
but somehow it seems to me,
melancholy is the mislaid piece,
for the pangs in my chest
have only grown stronger.

Spread 3000 miles apart,
on separate time zones and continents,
your absence from my eyes
captivates my consciousness.

Replaying our memories
in an infinite loop,
my mind plays its tricks
to remind me of you.

As if I could forget
that spellbinding time we spent,
on the days and nights
right after we met.
Missing Jordan.
Gabriel Ibarra Mar 2015
You give me wrinkles worth having.
Even as I write this they are deepening.
I'm replaying endless memories of you.
Thinking of our inside jokes.
Remembering moments only you could make.
Without trying or knowing you can always make me smile
hadley Apr 2016
everything about you
confuses my very circuitry
i cannot separate you from the ghost of my own self-hatred
one touch
a tease
a glance
nothing more to you, but every second after you walk away is spent
replaying replaying replaying replaying

sunday mornings come easily, but weekends slip away
like raindrops on a tin roof
monday comes
you and your eyes and your smile
may come, may not
depending on your boredom or need for validation

my circuits continue to replay replay replay
lighting up at the notion of you stopping by
i am wired and assembled for your very presence
the voltage crackles from my skin and i can no longer live in denial
i power off and resume my week, back into my nocturnal crevice
of life without you
life without a hint of your smile
life with a broken circuit, begging to stay

alive
~not my best, i just had to get him off my mind~
Lexi Guffey Nov 2017
I met him at a conference.
I sent him my gratitude and congratulations,
And as our dialogue continued we realized how similar we are.
He was going to the next event,
so we met up in September -
his eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky,
or embers of the inferno his mind produces,
his laugh as contagious as the plague,
and his voice as smooth as milk and honey.
A kind-hearted boy
with a witty tongue.
His hand, my hand, colliding.
Is it on purpose?
We learned about leadership,
gazed at monuments together.
He tells me this moment is perfect,
already my head's spinning,
and I’m wondering if we will make it out alive.
We spent the entire day laughing and commentating
on everything that happened,
submerged in analytical discourse
on what it means to be alive,
our experiences,
how little time.
We only came up for air
when our eyes linked,
and we stared.
He looked past my eyes
into my soul.
He says to me
“That's a nice thought you’re having”,
Exercising his intuitive prowess.
I laughed and wondered if he really knew
of the chaos raging in my mind.
Before we knew it,
the bus pulled up.
Of course, I wanted to stay.
I’ve been waiting for a boy like this,
and there he was in all his beauty.
Charming, suave.
I grabbed his hand,
holding on like this might be the end.
He says
“Don't cry. This isn't over. We'll still talk,”
The nerve.
We both know
this can't last
But I know we wanted it to.
And so I nodded,
letting myself fall.
I closed my eyes,
Trying to take in this moment;
to remember how
his hand felt in mine,
the depth of his eyes -
like a thousand worlds or a vast starry night,
the ring of his laugh -
how intoxicating.
I wish I remembered
what we talked about.
Instead I remember trying,
failing,
not to be sad
because deep down I knew
that happy endings only happen in the movies,
and our story was ending
before it began.
We hugged goodbye tightly -
for a second
I felt safe,
content.
It hurt to let him go.
I watched his smile fade as I stepped off the bus.
As he vanished I stood
motionless,
like I’d been struck by lightning,
peering closely as if I’d see his face one more time.
He was gone for good,
and all at once this dream was over.
My phone buzzed
"I really miss you"
But in a month, will you?
I sat on the plane that night replaying his voice in my head.
I couldn't help but think
'he could be the one'
And maybe he could have
but timing was not in our favor,
and life doesn't wait.
The problem is, my brain
understands
but my heart still wants
to trace the lines on his hands,
to memorize the curves of his face,
to feel his lips on mine,
to hear the inflections in his voice,
to learn all of his quirks and imperfections,
to know what he's thinking,
to smile with him forever.
And instead,
I will have to learn how to be alone,
to forget the butterflies and the plans,
to swallow how much I care,
to resist pressing send,
to recover.
It's not supposed to end this way.
It's supposed to fail
when you fall out of love,
not when you love too much
to be so far
apart.
I suppose this isn't a very relatable poem, but it is true! This is something that's just been on my chest for a long time, so this is a poem that I needed to write. It's weird how just typing the words makes me feel lighter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it even if it's not an "oh that happened to me" kind of poem.
Venus in Scorpio Nov 2017
I met her on Instagram

She told me she was a fan of my work

And as our dialogue continued we realized how similar we are

She didn’t live far

So we met up in the city

Her eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky

Or should I say embers of the inferno her mind produces

A spiritual girl with a sharp tongue

She refuses to drink from plastic bottles

Her hair a melody of colors

And her skin as soft as Cashmere

We toured art museums

Gazed at monuments together

She tells me she’s obsessed with love

Already my heads spinning

And I’m wondering If I will make it out alive with her

we spent the entire day submerged in analytical discourse

On what it means to be alive

Our experiences

How little time

We only came up for air

when our eyes linked

And we stared

She says to me

“That's a nice thought you’re having”

Exercising her intuitive prowess

I laughed and wondered if she really knew

of the storm that exists in my mind

my face like a window with the shades pulled away

It was getting late

and we were both exhausted from the stimulation we gave each other

Of course, I wanted her to stay

I’ve been waiting for a woman like this

And there she was in all her beauty

I grabbed her hand

She says

“Can you take my glasses off before you kiss me?”

The nerve

She knew what I wanted

But I know she wanted it too

And so I denied it to her

I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction

I said,

“With all the instant gratification our modern society presents, its
refreshing to delay certain things, wouldn’t you agree?”

She laughed and agreed

We hugged goodbye tightly

It hurt to let her go

I watched her off as she danced goofily on the escalator

As she vanished I stood

motionless

Like I’d been struck by lightning

Peering closely as if I’d see her face one more time

She was gone for good

And all at once this dream was over

I sat on the train that night replaying her voice in my head

She could be the one I said

Oh this lie I told myself was so sweet

In the beginning

And now bitter in the end
Emiley Parker Apr 2014
When people say
"music is life"
it makes sense
we allow our memories to live
within the music we listen to
so when we have a song on repeat
we're actually replaying the memories
over
and
over
again
so we will never forget
all the wonderful times
or the horrible, sad ones

{e.p}
GraciexJones Nov 2018
Diving into my insecurities,
Replaying the same mistakes
Unfolding memories from the deepest crease,
Mesmerizing the unforgettable words
Reminiscing over faint situations
Tears trembling down my face,
A wave of nerves tip toe down my spine,

Tearing my mind into pieces
Thoughts are scattering around,
Blemishing the good thoughts
Peeling away the flesh of my sanity,
Revealing layers of my anxiety

Losing sight of what’s right
A misunderstanding of my identity,
A willingness to be distant
From the people I love dearly
Madalyn Apr 2015
I still can't get you out of my head. I try to ignore the feelings but once I lay down to go to sleep
I start replaying that night and I yearn for more like it
Vanessa Dec 2014
The images I see
Are nothing more than daydreams,
that keep replaying.
Sweet melodies reciting words that will never be said.
LS Martin Aug 2017
I think you kissed me in a dream
Though darkness falls I stay awake
I search my mind replaying scenes

Amazed at what my thoughts create,
unsure if your the man I've seen
I think you kissed me in a dream

Sleeping becomes a passing theme
I do not care to see day break
I search my mind replaying scenes

Your eyes lit up like moonstruck beams
The stars, then took you by mistake
I think you kissed me in a dream

I fall into a new routine
With slumber now a distant ache
I search my mind replaying scenes

Kisses collapse into smoke screen
Even bright stars disintegrate
I think you kissed me in a dream
I search my mind replaying scenes
Keano
Ankit J Chheda Nov 2012
I can’t seem to shut the noises in my head,
Replaying all the words said,
I’ve been trying hard to avoid it all
From the moment the fight began to the end,
But this friction is wearing me out,
It’s making me sad and crippled,
I feel like I am dying inside,
There is no safe place to be,
All these egos clashing,
All these talks of unfulfilled expectations,
Everyone wanting the other to be as per their definition,
The putting on of fake mask in front of you,
To hide what I want to say in fear of another riot,
Inside I fight myself to be what you expect,
Outside I act like what of me I feel other’s expect,
I’m a loser in the race of what people decide is best,
Of what people think is fun and what they think everyone should have.
I fear I’m not like metal, which bends to the smith’s will,
But I’m like glass, hard enough to sustain the weather,
But ready to break when the blow strikes.
Vanessa Oct 2014
I knew the day would come.
My heart swelled and shattered
Like glass off of my ribcage,
It was nothing but dust now.
In an instant my heart became soluble.
Without warning,
my heart was inevitably yours once more.
I wanted you to never come back
I hoped you would make your home in Boston.
My delicate heart was not ready for you so soon
And I was not ready to give my heart away.
Especially to you.
But she ran from me,
Slipped through the cracks in my rib cage
and ran straight for you.

So here I am still sitting in silence
Still replaying impracticable situations
That will never become reality.
My heart is long gone now,
She always ran faster than my head.
With a mind of her own,
I am now heartless
Esther Dec 2018
They say photographs are precious
Because they remind you that once upon a time
Even just for a heartbeat
Everything was perfect
Looking through my phone
I don't have any pictures
From some of the best days of my life
Because i was too busy dancing in the sunset
Pressing lips against the people i loved the most
To remember to pull out my phone
And snap a picture

Those moments are engraved in my brain
Locked inside my heart's deepest chamber
Melted into every ounce of my soul
Replaying in my wildest dreams every night

I guess the best place to be alive
Is in each other's memories
It's the warmest feeling
An eternal smile on our face
Fingers intertwined
Heartbeats synchronised
Under the stars
On the beach
In the sunset
At the mall
In your bedroom with too little space
With the air on
Cuddling to "The Notebook"

I guess
We are immortal in each other's memories.
I live in your memories.

@3:18am
11/10/18
A B Perales Jan 2014
I was raised
on the ways of
the Wolf.
I applied these ways
to the best of
my ability.
Only to be set
loose to live amongst
the sheep.
Where
my ways were
considered savage
and unreasonable.

I turned to
the Poppy
and the *****.
I was insearch
of a temporary
sanctuary from
the  past misdeeds
replaying
themselves
inside my head.

Only at a later
age did I come
to understand
these wounds
that still
bleed leave
trails full of
wasted years,
lost lovers and
forgotten
hopes
and dreams.

I counted the
Black and Whites
as they passed
me by.
I tried to
melt into the
crowd.
The vigilance
and anger in
my heart refused
to walk amongst
the live stock.
For I was raised
as one with
brother Wolf.
I needed to
run on the outside
of their
invisible bindings.

I died everyday
for 3 years .
I pulled
from the *****
then turned to
the poem and
discovered
a new way
to torture
my  mind while
healing the heart.

I dropped
the mask I
had wore
for so many
of these
theatrical
years.

I set about
revealing hearts
blood and fractured
bone.
I ripped the
inside of
me out and
presented it
as treasure.
Only to find
the masses
are indeed
too much
like sheep.
Never
understanding the
manners of
the wolf....
Selena Irulan Sep 2013
I've never met a person who could make me angry as quickly as you.
But when I need someone to make me laugh unexpectedly- you  do that too.
Mom always told us, when we were certain we couldn't be related,
That we'd never stop needing each other. A sibling couldn't be traded.
We often joked that hospitals switch babies all the time.
But deep down I knew, that even with your very worst parts, you were mine.
It's been quite awhile since I heard you laugh.
I find myself replaying conversations wishing they would last.
Missing all the things so uniquely you
Wishing I'd known sooner that what Mom said was true.
You're more like me than either of us could have known.
Now I see that losing you is like losing my only way home,
Because I have a connection to you unlike any other.
It was unavoidable. You're my Big brother.
MS Lynch Jun 2013
Sweetheart silent killer manifests all inside my mind,
The moon’s a magnifying glass as it rises in the sky.
At 2 a.m. it giggles, a thick knife in its teeth,
And drops it down into my head as I lie underneath.
The glass I keep so carefully to remain ***** in the day,
Shatters and releases a burning, breathing self-assay.
A kaleidoscope catoptric, all frets out in the free,
A band of thought-filled thieves invade to steal my sleep from me.
Tossing and turning beneath the stars, I’ll wait til I burn out,
At night my brain is flooding and in daylight there’s a drought.
Lullaby myself with tears, wake up way too late,
Stuck as an insomniac, suicide’s sweet bait.
I wish I was an autumn leaf, I’d float into the sky,
And every fall I’d have the opportunity to die.
I don’t want to die, I just want to dream,
Instead of replaying my sick realities that make me want to scream.
But this will still all stay the same as my brain and blood run white,
I’ll feed myself with Satan’s sugar, the depressed primrose of the night.
R May 2013
It's four o'clock in the morning and I should be far away from this bed
in the land of dreams where anything can happen

Yet I still lay here, replaying your words in my head over and over again
and memorizing each dreadful sentence you spoke

You are a writer, and I guess that I am too
but my thoughts can't pour down onto paper half as well as yours do

Not only can you write though
heck, you can even talk

I've listened to you speak of your hopes and dreams, your past and sorrows
and to be quite honest, it didn't matter what you spoke of

Because every single word flowed out of your mouth so beautifully that I was mesmerized
even if they were words that I didn't want to hear

I... just don't think we're right for each other at this point in time.
Don't you understand? Don't you feel the same way?

Of course I understand.

I knew all along that I would never be good enough for you
a person of such beauty, such wisdom, such potential

I think you're beautiful and have so much potential for greatness but I don't think you see it.

Beautiful?
I am not beautiful

I am scared
scared of life and everything in it

I am empty
my heart feels as if it has shrunk down to nothing and I'm numb

I am unworthy
there is not another human being on this earth who could ever be satisfied with someone like me

I'm sorry.

Now, with the tears pouring down my face
I realize that I hate myself

I hate myself for never being good enough
or smart enough, or beautiful enough

But most of all
I hate myself for knowing that I deserve this

*Goodbye...
What a ****** night.
Makayla Jane Nov 2018
I haven't done it in a while,
But seeing the faded outline of my friends,
The scars that make me feel calm,
Made me want them back

I used to run my fingers along the cuts
As if I was reading braille to soothe my head;
Because I felt like those fresh wounds,
Were my only friends along with my blades

Those blades and the scars that accompanied them were something I could count on,
No matter how bad my day was I could cry all night
And sit in the bathroom mirror and talk to myself as I stared into my own eyes
Letting my blade dance across my skin,
Leaving a beautiful red trail;
The stinging sensation that came after that turned into the blissful pleasure,
That wonderful feeling I once loved was something I couldn't remember
Until today;

I wasn't even sad at the moment
It was just something my mind drove me to do out of sheer nostalgia
Because seeing the faded outlines of my scars
Counting each one replaying the night I created them
And remembering how close they were to me and that they were once my friends
Brought it all back;

So I threw a little self-harm depression party once again,
I created this little get together
And invited those old friends and demons of mine
Where my blade once again danced
And my scars then cried red;
Where I stared into my dark chocolate brown eyes
And let tears of my own claw their way out;
Where I smiled and laughed, talking to myself saying how much I missed the stinging pleasure
And relapsed again for the first time in a while

I thought about how what I was doing was something so wrong
And I told myself I was sadistic for laughing because I missed the sensation
But my god does it feel so right
I guess that's why so many people
Do all these things that slowly **** them;
Just as I do with self-harm...
I apologize for my actions.
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
Jack Thompson May 2015
A love is special.
A love is unique.
But love is not.
I hope.

Forever tormented by the thought.
You took my love.
Uniqueness that can't be bought.
This feeling I had with you gone.
Forever lost and never retrieved.
My hearts passion truely deceived.

Despair swelling at my ankles.
Searching for love like before.
You punish me with shackles.
They've left me feeling cheap.

An artist without creativity.
Coloring with no feeling.
Incapable of sensitivity.
This image of replaying moments.
Plagiarism of my emotion.
A different person and yet.
My heart of thoughts - only confliction.

I want them to be special and unique.
This wall turned insurmountable.
My problem has come full circle with no solution.
Uniqueness ripped clean surgically.
You took it all perfectly.
Even these words you've taken from me.
I'm left with no choice.
You'll not have my voice!
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
angele Dec 2018
i miss him. everything about him. his hands on me.
his kisses.
at least i can remember the last time we kissed
the last time we hugged
and it all makes me wanna cry.

i want him. i want all of him. his love and affection. looking at his face and into his beautiful beautiful eyes. the lull of the silence which was so perfect.

i want to be his again.
i want him to be mine
but he already belongs to another.

i keep replaying it in my mind, over and over and over.
i didn’t know it was the last time.
did he know it would be the last time?
it was a thought stuffed into the back of his mind- always there-like the crumpled up pieces of gum wrappers you stuff in your pockets.
or maybe he didn’t.
i don’t know
it doesn’t matter now
i just miss it.

i miss you.
Left Foot Poet Mar 2018
cellphone to heart, mobile to immobile, electric dead to living

you know that sleep and I are but passing acquaintances,
when it drops in, to heavy my lids, it is through a cracked window slivered, just enough for a Pan boy to grab me and away me to Almost Neverland

when the alarms sound that it’s sleepy time,
(quite like that quiet verse)
no time to delist the “those pre-shluffy to do things,”
cell drop upon my chest, like an open mic,
then the raging observatory tapestry begins!

the cell lies directly above my ventricular chamber,
and communication is live, the brain cutoff switch, well, cutoff

all manner of imps, devils, rejected poems, angels and
Greek gods and some Indian as well, stand in line for to make
free calls via a beating human message call center, utilizing my friends and family verizon plan to register complaints,
close out unfinished biz, or just contact, friends, family or other
mischievous imps or even you, in other time zone worlds

though my brain may not interfere, like the CIA, it records all
conversations and give me a list of new poem titles, notions, stories glories and wrenching heartbreaking heartbreak,
requiring “fleshing out” when I awake from my three fingers
of scotch, glass eye tears drops made me drunk,

damning this transmigration chorus of voices that offer up a treasure of divine humankind’s hopes and travails,
and the occasional call on the divine’s 1-800 confession line,
hear it all, my chewing out by one particular god of mine who does not suffer my criticisms well of his ungodly actions, nope not sweetly and

when else would he dare contact me, except when no edgewise
words of mine can appear to contradict his mealy mouth excuses

did you musty misty mistake  my poems  as the product of
the miracle water wages of my imaginary inspiration,
no, not, from the replaying of your desperate exclamations,
the cancerous shrieks of loss and prickly investiture of the aesthetics of soft whispers and solitary foot treads,
that is where my insanity is bred, and tumbling s-words, sworn

don’t consider it eavesdropping as there is no signed rental agreement, consider this unfair warning, if you should secret use my cellular line, your everything is now ******,
your genetic material is materialistic mine and my poems yours,
this bittersweet sentiment is a measure of our bloods commingling,
your tears and impish silliness, are shiny hidden within mine

somehow I feel compelled to state this unique statistic:

I love you

4:47pm on 3/11

who writes poems like this?
silly old boys with gray hair, standing on one left leg.  but you knew that, right?
Enyo Aug 2017
"Why don't you
~Smile~
More?"

I wish I knew how many times
those words left people's lips
to slap me in the face.

I want to tell them everything.

About how I stay up reading
until the words blur and fade,
because I hate being
alone with my thoughts
in the dark.

How I over-analyze
EVERYTHING,
every mistake
replaying, replaying, replaying
like a broken record.

How I can't breathe
before another imagined scenario-
unrealistically good or bad-
pulls me under.

It all comes back to
the writhing, swelling ocean
of my brain, but
I shrug and say
"I guess I'm just
tired."
Her Mar 2019
what is PTSD they ask

it’s not knowing which
way is right or left
it’s not knowing how
to maneuver your own mood swings
it’s trying to find your way
through a dark maze during the night
with not an ounce of light to guide you

it’s suicidal tendencies
it’s never thinking you’re enough
it’s thinking you’re *****
it’s thinking you’re useless
it’s thinking you’re used
its thinking you’re undeserving

it’s icing people out at the second
you start to feel emotion
it’s numbing yourself to the world
it’s laying in bed
it’s not being able
to move your body
for days on end
because the pain
strikes to the bone
it’s aches

its going a year out of treatment
and you were strong
until the anniversary month roles around
and suddenly you are a glass house
with stones being pelted to the core

it’s lost years
years of life I may
never fully remember

it’s nightmares
the gut wrenching ones
that night replaying
over and over and over

but most of all

it’s guilt
for not being able
to save my 7 year old self
Wolf Irwin May 2014
Positive through the derogatory,
I use the light as my allegory,
There's a happy ending to this sad story,
**** happens so no need to worry,
You can face it there's no need to escape,
Or spend time replaying the tape,
There's still time as long as you wake,
If you never give up then its never to late,
Fight for love, fight for love,
One mind devine from above,
You should be happy just because,
High on life with a nice buzz,
Love life and it'll love you,
Thats just a fact I know is true,
Theres nothing more that you can do,
But let go of hate and just be truly you.
The sun sets,
But I lay awake,
Thinking about the last few days...
I wonder what it means?
Is it all in my head?

Replaying our conversations,
Thinking about your smile.
So many questions,
Not enough answers.

I wait for tomorrow,
Hoping to see you soon.
Waiting for another chance,
To be besides you.

The simple things you do
Mean the world to me.
Most people would overlook them,
But not me.

Hopefully you'll notice,
See how similar we are.
Notice our connection,
And give it a try.

Stop being oblivious,
Realize the signs...
I know you feel it too,
You don't need to compromise.

We can talk for hours,
From the simple to complex.
We don't have to do anything,
And be together all night.

You're so confusing,
Give me a sign.
Tell me there's something ..
Or if im waisting my time...
Taija May 2017
I just can’t stop thinking about you. I swear you are like a scratched record replaying, replaying, replaying, the same part. You are always there in the cracks & crevices of my mind, my body, & my soul. You have become a part of my life; a part of me. Even when my heart is crushed into thousands of pieces, beneath all the rubble & debris, the sound of your lips curling to form the words ‘i love you’ will still be playing.

t.h.
Crystal Dawn Aug 2014
A little red fire truck
Given to a boy
Who knew that little fire truck
Would bring so much joy?

He plays and pretends
To be putting out flames
All the kids on the street
Want to know his name

He loves his little fire truck
He hates to put it away
But mother says he has to
Tommorow is another day

A little red fire truck
Sits untouched
Over the years
It's collected some dust

The boy now is grown
Going through some old stuff
And at the bottom of a old box
He finds a small truck

He remembers the fun he had
Playing in the floor
And can't recall the last time
He wanted anything more

He sits for a moment
Replaying all the memories
And smiling to himself says
",You know, life's about the little things".
Crystal Sacco
August 13,2014
Klara Apr 2014
When i think back to the day I met you, my heart explodes.
I am both the happiest person in the world, because I hugged you, and the saddest because it's been so long.
In class, I can't focus because the memory of your smile keeps coming back to me.
In my head, it never gets quiet anymore because my mind keeps replaying the sound of your chuckle, and those words I've been longing to hear.
No hug will ever feel
as warm
and safe
and happy anymore,
because no one's arms fit me like yours.
You are constantly on repeat in my mind;
your laugh, your smile, your words, your arms, your smell...

I miss you so much, my heart cannot take it anymore.
And I cannot help but wonder,
how you can be the worst thing that's ever happened to my heart when you're the best that's ever happened to me.
dumbdeadpoet Sep 2015
i shouldn't have to clench my jaws when my feelings get hurt. my teeth are shattering at every fake smile i give when i have to look into your eyes and watch you look away. you touch my spine and you say 'have a good one'

i keep scraping my elbows for you.

band aids don't fix broken hearts. i peel them off but my wrists still bleed. i have a bad habit of scratching and scratching and reopening the cuts that you have made and trying to close them up trying to love myself.
how much of your life have you dedicated to leaving?

to the point where i rather have you than pass all my classes

you can't put a ring on it if my fingers are broken.
just because you like the idea of my hands doesn't mean your heart is attached also.
would you care if i broke my arms

i hope you rip your gloves again
i hope you cry over me

how are you doing without me?
how long do i have to be gone for you to finally miss me

i love and don't lie



you've become another story.

that day,
i wanted to break the glass in front you i wanted to scream in your face and beat your chest i was literally going crazy for you i walk out and i will never understand why you don't just understand that
'you can't break a girls heart and not expect her to go crazy about you'
why is time moving so slowly...

and i was wearing bandaids on my wrists and i peeled them off and put more on and peeled those off too and put gloves on and tore them and threw them away and put more gloves on and i couldn't stand and couldn't sit and couldn't keep working and couldn't...
the same song keeps replaying in my head.

i'm fine until i think about it. i hate you
you make me want to throw everything away

nice men don't cheat
and nice men don't lie

at nights i set my alarm to 3:30 to see if you will text back
it's 5:45
tuesday september 22, 8:30 a.m. i almost called you.
10:16
10:35
10:49
10:58
11:02
11:10
11:12
12:31
and then i lost track
i don't want to talk to you anymore


i haven't forgotten your birthday. i'm sorry for not memorizing your number.
i still have your pictures on my phone. i still get nauseous when i miss you
how could i let go of something so precious
i can still hear your accent.
i find myself saying the same things you used to tell me back when you still loved me the same song keeps replaying in my head
when i think of you my body hurts.



she only likes me cause we're not together
tell her i knew before you knew

sometimes i never want to see you again
i hurt you by leaving.



here's to pay your bills:


i'll forget about you one day. i promised i wouldn't

'text me when you make it home safely'



now i don't dress when i get home from work
now i sleep with my guitar
i wear my hair different

this is the closure we never had
from today on, every angel i will ever come to know will have a memory of you attached to it.

it takes two weeks for my wounds to heal. by the time i am done with this, it would have been two weeks. and this won't hurt anymore. and i will stop bleeding. and the cuts on my wrists will finally close. you were not a bandaid. you could never be a bandaid. i am sorry you couldn't close the same wounds you caused. i am sorry that it is hard to swallow. and i am sorry for apologizing for things you haven't done.
by the time you get this i would have listened to your voicemail 33 times
i do this for revenge
and i will never say goodbye


this poem is not incomplete. i just like to leave you uneasy. have a great life.


p.s. everything that i have written in here has been subject to what i felt at the moment. please do not think that i hate you.

p.s.s. it took me days to write this and i love you

p.s.s.s i wanted to get you a watch today

p.s.s.s.s you don't wear watches

p.s.s.s.s.s happy birthday



i love you

i love you
jessika michele Jan 2014
you're haunting me still
why?
vibrations from your exit still lingering in my bones
they crack and quake
grating against themselves
why aren't they healing?
these wounds that I have been so persistently nursing
why can I not mend myself of this?
the needle is too dull
the thread is fraying
alone in this room
with your ghost still sitting next to me
gently touching my hand, laying its head in my lap to play with its hair
smiling
laughing
a perception
not the reality
I keep my heart in a box under the bed
next to treasured memories of a memory
I want to burn it all
I want to give it back to you
I want to keep it
it makes me sick
when its dark I wish to travel to far away mystical places
dance among the stars on cotton candy roller skates
yet all I get is you
your face
fetal position, clenched jaws, toss and turn
tortured still
in a state meant for rest
dream catchers strategically placed
they're meant to save me from you
ward off and expel YOU
yet my soldiers of the night
my dream wardens
they're no match for the slyness of you
you slip through as if made of air and elegance
replaying all your proudest moments of my misery
ive never felt such indifference toward someone
I want you gone
out of my head
I wish I could peel you from my skin
wring you from my marrow
shed the skin of this serpent's memory
wake to a new day
finally feeling good
finally feeling anything
finally feeling
Burnout Dec 2012
if every word i said could make you laugh i'd talk forever
the stereotypical lines don't work on your brilliance
your cold
my intellectual rain cloud
bringing me my favorite weather
not without the wet socks of course
it all hurts
the constant sunshine
my pale skin only wants your cumulonimbus touch
tracing my skin
your gentle raindrops
bring me to seattle
our future with no barriers
i rub my own back
replaying the memories in my head
my favorites
your regrets
i try to calm myself down
but only your shush will suppress the tears
only your sheetless bed will defeat the cold
only your presence will crowd the loneliness
i surrender
will i ever hit the bottom of this sad abyss?
can you pull me out?
i know you can
there i go again
answering my own questions
i'm not fixing anything
i'll just keep waiting
i'll just keep failing
Love Apr 2017
Anxiety is rocking back and forth at 1am like a small frightened child.
It's slowly pulling every single hair out of your arms.
It's biting your nails, and picking at your skin.
It's those tiny snaps that make no noise.

Anxiety is taking a curve at 110 mph.

Anxiety is my red hair.
Its the first thing that people see about me, and the first thing they assume is fake.

Anxiety is puking. Having no control over your body and becoming physically ill.

Its replying to a text message .2 seconds after it was received and then turning off your phone because you don't want to see the other persons response to your swift reply.

Anxiety is noticing. Its noticing the minute changes in tone, posture, manurisims and ticks, music choices when you are around, and how often they use descriptive words that could subconsciously be describing you.

Anxiety is failed medications, after failure, after failure, after failure, after failure, after failure. You become the failure.

Anxiety is a broken record.
Knowing that everything is fine, still panicking at the drop of a pin.
Its replaying conversations you've had with others over the mental dispute of one tiny word, even years after the conversation occurred.
Its overthinking.
It's constantly wondering if your hands are in the right position, if your resting ***** face is showing, or if you have a hair on the wrong side of your part.
It's locking the door, both locks, checking the locks, leaving, turning around and checking the locks again, leaving, and then turning around to make sure the iron is off.

Anxiety is not ordering food because you don't want to talk to the wait staff, nor eat infront of others because you know you will make a mess of yourself.

Anxiety is constantly being a clumsy fool. It's things you can't control and it's faceplants on concrete.
It's making plans in advance, way in advance. It's asking your friends what their plans for New Year's Eve are, even though it's only March.
It's wanting to ask a girl out on a date, even though you have been on multiple with her, and trying to schedule it two and a half months in advance.

Anxiety is lists.
It's remembering what time you brushed your teeth this morning, but forgetting the childhood story your friend told you 5 minutes ago.
It's repeating yourself because you forget your own words from 5 minutes ago.
It's looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger.
It's waking up while driving down the road, having no clue what's went on in the past 24 hours.

Anxiety is like drinking on a hangover.
It's mental, it's physical, it's psychotic.
It's seizures, it's palpitations, it's hospital trips with whispers of a straight jacket.

Anxiety is more than being afraid of a stage, anxiety is the downfall of me.
take in a deep breath, pull my knees to my chest
i sit down, my world unfolding
close my eyes, just pretend
let’s start over again
in my mind, it keeps replaying

something’s come over me and it’s you
pulling me back again

you believed even when nothing came from trying
you believed even when you found me lost and crying
and now is another one, another mistake i’ve done
it’s okay
you show me it’s beautiful, there’s so much worth living for
you say

you decided to stay, instead of walking away
there i stand, afraid and broken
it’s not to late after all, you’re there catching my fall
you read the words i left unspoken

something’s come over me and it’s you
pulling me back again

you believed even when nothing came from trying
you believed even when you found me lost and crying
and now is another one, another mistake i’ve done
it’s okay
you show me it’s beautiful, there’s so much worth living for
you say

and why did you care?
i was so out of your way
it didn’t stop you from saving me
always searching for words
but they don’t go that deep
and words will just leave me

you believed even when nothing came from trying
you believed even when you found me lost and crying
Catrina Sparrow Mar 2013
i miss your lips
the way they'd smoothly dance
like a genie in a lamp
as you'd sing
and speak

how sweet your memory tastes
though the reality has long since faded

i cling to my effervescent exaggerations of our tangled past
replaying time to time
on the dream-screen of my mind
as i snack lightly on the salty remarks of my youth
and i laugh

it hurts
but it feels so healthy

you fade through the moon-mist
and dismiss your own existence
once again proclaiming that you are nothing
but an extension of it all
a fingerprint of the wilky-way
just a strand of DNA
swimming through the wake of infinite expansion

i miss it

the beer-breath incantions you'd softly slur after dark
the kisses you'd plant along my edges
like the vines that trace the hedges
in the front lawn of that dusty place we'd fake our love

nostalgia always begins so inviting
untill you're finally feeling sea-sick
from the over-ingestion of false sweets
and pure imagination

now we're so far gone
living in a different reality entirely
i don't think i'd even know your face if i saw it
i know you only by the way your shape fits in the frame
another handsome man
trapped forever in the reels of film of my mind

but i'll remember you
you're woven into the wood works
    
     drunkenly dancing through a serendipitous sea of names
     stands the lamen's term for your current shape
your birth-given name
credited with a handfull of scars
left behind by a man who forced me to grow
AJ Sep 2014
Death.

For some it is a fear for others it is the perfect solution to their problems
on the outside they seem happy and put together but on the inside they are
screaming and pleading for someone to help…for someone to save them
for someone to give a **** and take the time to see what is really going on
to see that tears stream down their cheeks every night and seep deep into the pillow
to see the scars on their bodies and not believe the ******* lies that spew out of their mouths as an explanation for the meticulous and clearly not accidental lines on their arms, legs, and thighs
why can’t people see that by living they are dying?
why can’t they see that dying is the only way out from the pain that can’t be escaped?
why the **** can’t they see that they are the ******* reason those souls no longer want to be!?
They call you a stupid ******* and say you won’t amount to nothing
you think “well **** it why am I here! Why do I struggle to hold on when they try to make me let go?”
life seems to crumble at a hint of happiness
sanity quickly disappears with every word that slips between their lips
the little bit of will power that helped you to live quickly oozes out of you and drips onto the floor
the drips turn into drops and the drops finally form a red puddle as the tears flow and questions swarm your head
what did I do to deserve this? Why me? Why am I ugly? Why can’t I be skinny? Why can’t I be happy?
and finally What have I done?
the sharp object easily slices through the skin just as the hatred effortlessly seeps into your mind
every day it is a fight to escape the monster that threatens your existence
not the monster under the bed but the one living inside your head replaying the negativity that you have heard all your life
replaying the memories that you tried to force to the back of your mind in a lock box that you desperately tried to forget  
replaying what you have come to see as the harsh truth that you just aren’t good enough
 

But in reality you are more than good enough and you aren’t fat or ugly or dumb
YOU are beautiful and you are who you are
yes you are not perfect yes you make mistakes and yes you may not be the smartest person ever
but umm last time I checked neither are they
you don’t have to be a size zero to be beautiful
beauty is something you have on the inside not something that can be measured from the size of a pair of jeans
having curves does not make you fat nor does having thick thighs
so when you look into the mirror be proud of what you see because that person is you and no matter what negativity comes your way know that you are beautiful and anything else are lies
they just try to bring you down to make them feel that they are above
so don’t listen and **** what they say because
they don’t know **** about you as a person and the struggle you have been through
to have made it this far says that you are strong and can carry
you can claw your way out of the deep hole that everyone has been digging for you
you will finally see the sunrise after midnight
you will see the beautiful rainbow after the storm and reach the *** of gold
just hold on because someone out there is waiting for you to enter their life so it will have meaning and give the meaning of life back to you
so please just fight another battle because no matter how many you may lose you can and will win the war
I wrote this a few years back for 2 close friends of mine that were battling with depression and thoughts of suicide. Be strong. Fight on.
Bryan Lunsford Dec 2018
It's that song you used to always play–
Playing, softly, under our words in your old driveway,

I knew you were hurt, and I didn't know what to say,
Though, I vowed I was going to love you the right way,

Time goes by, but some things never change,
As it never mattered, where you were was my favorite place,

You were perfect for me, and I wish you would've stayed,
Though you moved back home–over a thousand miles away,

It may hurt, and this pain might never go away,
Though, I listen to that song, softly, on replay–

Replaying alone, as with this night that's gone astray,
I cry, here, parked in your old driveway

— The End —