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"unfeel" poems
How can I unlove you? Shall I unsee the luminescent smile you make? Shall I unfeel the heavy breaths I take? Shall I undraw your image inside my head? Shall I unhold our memories instead? Shall I unwrite the song I made for you? Shall I untell my heart to stop beating too? Shall I uncling to my tiny sliver of forever? Shall I undream of what we can become together? Shall I unremember the light on your face? Shall I unrecall my saving grace? Shall I ungrasp this love I know true, But the question is... Is it possible to unlove you?
0
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
How Can I Unlove You?
I told them, “I don’t feel sorry for Robin Williams. He lived it. Coke-fueled, bearded trickster of ****** Well traveled and well versed, raging into worlds Physical and ephemeral, like a ghostly bull Goring mortals to unfeel the estoques Sunk deep into his vital corpse.” I had a friend who blew his brains out While his parents were watching tv in the living room And another who rented a room at the Marriott Then hung himself off the shower-rod Both early 20s You won’t see them on the big screen Or hear their witty banter on interviews Chic celebs won’t eulogize them On “Extra”, “TMZ”, or “Access Hollywood” No 2 minute montages At award shows, while tuxes and gowns float Clapping in ovation behind the shimmering façade Of golden statues They got a few lines in an obituary, in A7 Those who knew them will speak in hushed euphemisms No one daring to whisper “suicide” As if it’s the ****** Mary of deaths Like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror The mirror containing, like smoke, the future The jagged shards reflecting moonlight faintly I love them all the same
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
A7
Apples can come in all shapes and sizes, Two apples they are not the same, See one and it's in your hand before it realizes, Choosing the right one is part of the game, They can look so sweet from where you sit, But once you bite into that rotten part, It changes your whole perception of it, And can send and arrow through your heart, To me I'm an apple not wholly bad, To you the shiniest and most delectable you'd seen, Sadly more bitter than you what thought you had, But with time to ripen fit for my queen. For apples to be we are both bruised, We have been hurt and reduced, Some visible, and some I denied the clues, Yet together us perfectly flawed apples have fused, Like a pair that only comes in a dual pack, Still we cannot unfeel what we have felt, Nor take back the damage i have dealt. I vow to bring us back on track. Let me be your sun, Your source of growth, Your only one, So hear my oath. I will be your love, your inspiration, Like the apple of your first impression, We will roll down hills and across nations, For this is the long run and not a single session. I see now that we could endure any weather From stormy oceans to scorching heat And one day i hope our seeds grow a tree together That no other apple could possibly beat.
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Apples
I lap a bit of the water out of my cupped hands, then splash the rest on my battered face. Evan looked at me like I was obscene, left the room, slammed the door, burning, Tyler was still nauseous, buried in the couch, talked light about being surprised at his survival. I made him some toast, we tried to piece together the night, but we only remembered that he concocted some White Russian rip-off and called it a Grey Romanian, I talked to Rachel about *** and respect, Evan wasn't very appreciative of the cake I baked, nor was he kind to Shawna or Kara when they gave him kickass gifts, Bobby kept Tyler from drowning in his ***** Lauren brought me a blanket when I was freezing, I passed out in the bathroom, and the general consensus was we need to slow down. Tyler told me he felt like he needed to go to church. I felt ***** too, but it was more from the things I have seen, I have touched, and God never could make me unsee, unfeel. Tyler and I sat and talked like ancient men, men who had far outlived their time, and were just waiting for death's hour to claim its **** Pure things come and find us, we won't find you, not down the road we've been taking. Pure things, the world should hang its head in shame at all its ***** things. Give us a revival. The Grey Romanians, the depths, and the *** aren't giving the answers we expect. I told Tyler I loved him, walked out the door, the sun was too bright, I walked past an Asian lady, her smile was insane, I climbed in my car, put on some Thelonious and mended myself with each erased mile.
0
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 8:43 PM UTC
pure things
I lap a bit of the water out of my cupped hands, then splash the rest on my battered face. Evan looked at me like I was obscene, left the room, slammed the door, burning, Tyler was still nauseous, buried in the couch, talked light about being surprised at his survival. I made him some toast, we tried to piece together the night, but we only remembered that he concocted some White Russian rip-off and called it a Grey Romanian, I talked to Rachel about *** and respect, Evan wasn't very appreciative of the cake I baked, nor was he kind to Shawna or Kara when they gave him kickass gifts, Bobby kept Tyler from drowning in his ***** Lauren brought me a blanket when I was freezing, I passed out in the bathroom, and the general consensus was we need to slow down. Tyler told me he felt like he needed to go to church. I felt ***** too, but it was more from the things I have seen, I have touched, and God never could make me unsee, unfeel. Tyler and I sat and talked like ancient men, men who had far outlived their time, and were just waiting for death's hour to claim its **** Pure things come and find us, we won't find you, not down the road we've been taking. Pure things, the world should hang its head in shame at all its ***** things. Give us a revival. The Grey Romanians, the depths, and the *** aren't giving the answers we expect. I told Tyler I loved him, walked out the door, the sun was too bright, I walked past an Asian lady, her smile was insane, I climbed in my car, put on some Thelonious and mended myself with each erased mile.
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45
# The carnival is loud. The voices rise in competition, each one pulling for the crowd’s attention, each one demanding to be seen, to be known, to be applauded. But none of it lasts. The bright lights will flicker, the tents will come down, the applause will fade. And the ones who built their names on the roar of the crowd will be left alone with their silence. You feel this, don’t you? The moment after the rush, when the thrill of being seen is not enough to keep you full. The moments between performances, when you are left with yourself. You have felt it. And because you have felt it, you cannot unfeel it. That is the nature of truth. It does not beg. It does not force. It simply remains, waiting for you to turn toward it. But not all will turn. Some will sell the last of themselves to the carnival, to the barker’s voice, to the fleeting thrill of attention. Some will press their hands over their ears until they no longer hear the call at all. Some will attempt to crucify what unsettles them, to keep the show running. And yet, truth stands. It does not chase. It does not barter. It does not make itself smaller to be more easily held. It remains, whether you turn today, or tomorrow, or never at all. For life does not demand. It does not entertain. It does not offer a show. It simply waits. *And in time, the waiting will be yours to bear* #
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Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 3:31 PM UTC
The Quiet Turning
Tethered and bound by maraging steel- feel nothing- bar a need to unfeel. Few words- gagged. Rubber'd tastes, sound the same. Chewy, jaw-achingly safe.
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Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC
air holes & safe words
she boiled my blood inside a *** of steel, with bread she cooked it thoroughly till foam, had covered all, unseeable, unfeel- -ing, vengeance wrathful, hardened to a loam, where blood is life, she caused the life to be, unlivable, no more a life to me (C)2012, Christos Rigakos
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
she boiled my blood
We live We die Life is but a journey We share we care we flirt with a love affair: with life. We cry we are happy we are shy We’re the friend and the spy We pry on other people’s business We are everywhere. We are alive. We care. And then we leave, and retrieve all our shine We intertwine With the roots and the shrubs Within the endless labyrinth of the mundane and the divine We become part of it It consumes us Earth takes us in, and we begin To unthink unfeel Is this real? Am I buried, am I cremated, was I clothed, was I bare? I don’t care.
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
Because The Dead Don’t Care
i think i just wanted my innocence back. i can't get my first kiss back. i've been touched and approached and pursued in ways i didn't want. i just wanted my first times to Anything to be special. i wanted my first, real lover to stroke my cheek with their hand and i wanted to kiss them for the first time under the stars, i want butterflies and no doubt. no doubt, no fear, just butterflies. i can't unfeel his hand on my leg. i wanted the first person to touch me in Any way to be someone who i love, who i trust. not a ball and chain, not a push and pull. growing up in a shaking, rumbling home, i've seen people come and go. i've heard the cries through closed doors and the yelling on the lawn. this was love. i prayed when i was young that maybe i could get something different.
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 12:48 AM UTC
i think i just wanted my innocence back
my hungry heart came looking but my foolish head had me thinkin' so round and round i did flow trying to hide my heart from my head playin hide and seek with my soul trying to find a way to have both these loves trying to give all the love my heart dreams trying to be the best man i can be cause you deserve nothing less round and round shadows play light is a grace that she would grant me forgiving my hearts infidelity because i did not cheat...did not stray so i stand here with tears a-flowin trying to let go of such a lovely trying to make my heart unfeel true beauty's smile never wanted to give anything so beautiful away my heart wants to be greedy my heart hungers but my heads thinkin'
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
unfeel true beauty's smile
Getting rid of reminders, my own thoughts and yours, memories and you. I keep a tight grip on my eyes and try to rip them off for I see you on painted walls, different shapes of clouds, music and daydreams. I burry my face in a pillow: "no, that's not your smell. I'm going crazy. I'm losing it" my tongue burns when I accidentally call someone by your name my ripcage holds nothing hostage anymore. I bet this is worse than.. I'm not going to, no. No, no my sun will hide the clouds and my coffee will hide the scent I refuse to bury my face or harm myself my ripcage can hold songs, blood and smoke. I will learn to unfeel this even though you'd be so good to me, you'd unintentionally be very, very dangerous.
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Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
Getting Rid of It
With each and every kiss, he imprints himself on my lips, my cheeks, my heart. With each and every look, he gives me his love, his trust, his promise, his heart. I feel those feelings that I cannot unfeel. I enjoy those moments that I cannot unravel. I wish for him to be mine for forever and a day. I pray to someone I'm not sure exists, that our love is real. I'll lie in wait. I'll trace my skin where he kissed and relive those moments. I'll write a poem or two or three.. knowing that he is always here--in my heart, my mind--with me.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
Skin
I want to write poetry but all I can do is relive old memories and hope for unhopeful moments. How can I unteach the words you've taught me or unfeel the touch of your hands or unsee the flecks of light in your eyes or undo everything that once was between us? If I can learn how to make this happen maybe I could find a new muse.
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Inspiration
I try so hard to unfeel things.. Pushing against the walls of my past. I invite the help of other hands to topple the monumental foundation that is "Kyle." It never works.. "I'm responsible for my own happiness." I'm so irresponsible sometimes..
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Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 12:00 AM UTC
Irresponsible
Unnecessary feelings amass Forgetting becomes quite a task Emotions volatile in a cask You empty your flask Savor the temporary bliss Such heartfelt happiness Time passes Why do we feel the way we do? We soul search for a clue We often ask if we can undo All the mistakes we've been through We cannot help but dwell deeper in the past Hoping to find an answer at last
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
How do you unfeel?
never has my heart ached so much as to see the nightmare unfold i have shed the tears only fit for a funeral and when you are done i will be here i will paint colours today as bright as the sky more than rainbows as big as the ******* moon and dip my brush in my tears to clean to rid my deep of you glitter will fill my room and flowers bloom i will play music and shake the earth today i will tear down every wall to wipe you out break every glass and eat the shards so i don't have the ******* taste of you in my mouth rip out my ******* veins to purge your ******* venom i don't know how to unfeel this hate hate hurts and bleeds on my hands and everything i touch will be tainted but i won't have that no ******* way you've danced me in my life long enough **** you my meat suit never looked good on you anyway you didn't even have the opposable thumbs to do the buttons up how do you process hate? it ******* hurts like a foreign body wearing mine again an outpouring of grief upon the ground my heart aches aches i want to take it out
0
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
if history repeats, that must mean you're an ******* the second time around too.
they say poetry is about making your words count, making something out of nothing, to make the words make sense only to those who knew-- --those who knew how to read, feel, unfeel and come apart-- but poetry was never easy for me not when i had no words to explain the pain-- no words to describe the stories behind the faded scars, tanned and bulging still no words to describe how the once constant flow of black blood onto stationery, has now entered a moment of stillness, veins closing in on themselves, the life force of words slowly coming to an end i never had any words that could explain the emptiness in my ribs, the pit of feelings growing more and more void as time passed by years passed, pain came and went, and i still had no words to describe there were no words that could describe the tiny little whispers past midnight, beside my mother in our once big, big, bed, or in the bathroom, on the pristine, white tiles in our former house, the tiny whispers that were prayers, pleas, and curses thrown out into the darkness soft, tiny, whispers, giving out what i possibly can without the stress of poetry i miss you, i'd whisper against my phone, back against a tiled wall feet skidding against the bathroom tiles as my knees supported my head i hate you it was my fault, i chanted silently, tears against my face and the pillow all my fault, i stuff my pillow in my mouth, forcing down the sobs, if i were better, this wouldn't have happened with each swift stroke of my brush, with a bright red being the only paint color i had the voices in my head whispering softly, loudly, ringing in my ears keep going, keep going, it's not enough, you can do it the ceiling would be my best friend in times like these being witness, and ear, to all the whispers i let out in the dark it was the closest i could get to having a canvas, a blank page of a notebook to write--speak, whisper, plead--poetry on, poetry of my own standards poetry that made sense, only to me, poetry that was written in a language that only i could read this will all be over soon
0
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC
soft whispers
they say poetry is about making your words count, making something out of nothing, to make the words make sense only to those who knew-- --those who knew how to read, feel, unfeel and come apart-- but poetry was never easy for me not when i had no words to explain the pain-- no words to describe the stories behind the faded scars, tanned and bulging still no words to describe how the once constant flow of black blood onto stationery, has now entered a moment of stillness, veins closing in on themselves, the life force of words slowly coming to an end i never had any words that could explain the emptiness in my ribs, the pit of feelings growing more and more void as time passed by years passed, pain came and went, and i still had no words to describe there were no words that could describe the tiny little whispers past midnight, beside my mother in our once big, big, bed, or in the bathroom, on the pristine, white tiles in our former house, the tiny whispers that were prayers, pleas, and curses thrown out into the darkness soft, tiny, whispers, giving out what i possibly can without the stress of poetry i miss you, i'd whisper against my phone, back against a tiled wall feet skidding against the bathroom tiles as my knees supported my head i hate you it was my fault, i chanted silently, tears against my face and the pillow all my fault, i stuff my pillow in my mouth, forcing down the sobs, if i were better, this wouldn't have happened with each swift stroke of my brush, with a bright red being the only paint color i had the voices in my head whispering softly, loudly, ringing in my ears keep going, keep going, it's not enough, you can do it the ceiling would be my best friend in times like these being witness, and ear, to all the whispers i let out in the dark it was the closest i could get to having a canvas, a blank page of a notebook to write--speak, whisper, plead--poetry on, poetry of my own standards poetry that made sense, only to me, poetry that was written in a language that only i could read this will all be over soon
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35
Heart bound By tree vines Unlearn me Forget the rocks Between my joints Unfeel me The Green leaves That sprout from My eyelids Have turned red Like fire My bark burns In silence Unlove me
0
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Forest Fires
Tell me How long until My hands unfeel Yours in mine How long until My eyes unsee Your blue eyes How long until My ears unhear the sound of your voice How long until My heart unloves A relentless love?
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
Unloving
You don't have to do that Spare me the Monday evening cordialities Have you even considered the fact That I am always looking away As you walk up the stairs? You don't have to do that Catch my attention with your smile Ask how I am doing As if my answer might sway your next move: A "see you later" in mid-stride How symbolic You don't have to do that Because I don't need any favors "I always acknowledge you" As though it is some sort of obligation And I should be thankful for your kindness You don't have to do that Because I do not care for Routine hellos and overused smiles Stained with the implication Of a shallow rapport You don't have to do that Better yet You have my permission to walk right past me Every Monday evening Because I am not interested In acquaintanceship You don't have to do that Because in the same way it is hard to unsee It is hard to unfeel And I don't know how much longer I can tell you I am "well" Without wishing or waiting to explode You don't have to do that Because your eyes Carry the prose I shared Written by of a part of me With which I am still unfamiliar You don't have to do that Because I am unable to pretend The reciprocity of our passions Is merely common And irrelevant You don't have to do that Because it is impossible to deny that We have chemistry We have chemistry But please You don't have to do that Because Believe me Had I known the sparks Would result in wildfire I would have extinguished them immediately I am working to put out the flames But it is awfully hard While you are fanning the embers
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Just Don't
You don't have to do that Spare me the Monday evening cordialities Have you even considered the fact That I am always looking away As you walk up the stairs? You don't have to do that Catch my attention with your smile Ask how I am doing As if my answer might sway your next move: A "see you later" in mid-stride How symbolic You don't have to do that Because I don't need any favors "I always acknowledge you" As though it is some sort of obligation And I should be thankful for your kindness You don't have to do that Because I do not care for Routine hellos and overused smiles Stained with the implication Of a shallow rapport You don't have to do that Better yet You have my permission to walk right past me Every Monday evening Because I am not interested In acquaintanceship You don't have to do that Because in the same way it is hard to unsee It is hard to unfeel And I don't know how much longer I can tell you I am "well" Without wishing or waiting to explode You don't have to do that Because your eyes Carry the prose I shared Written by of a part of me With which I am still unfamiliar You don't have to do that Because I am unable to pretend The reciprocity of our passions Is merely common And irrelevant You don't have to do that Because it is impossible to deny that We have chemistry We have chemistry But please You don't have to do that Because Believe me Had I known the sparks Would result in wildfire I would have extinguished them immediately I am working to put out the flames But it is awfully hard While you are fanning the embers
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57
My Mind Loves This. My Heart Despise It. Just Spent $80 On An Unnecessary Substance! I Can't Believe I'm Falling Again. I Relapsed, It Wasn't Worth It! My Emotions Go Numb, But Come Back Quick. Then I Fein It.. Fien To Unfeel These Feelings.
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
Again
1 To suspend A summer day in glass. Complaisant green, This blade of grass. 2 To give away Grief, unfeel a caress, Nourish a hunger For emptiness. 3 To insinuate to love’s unanswered skin syllables of desire pricking in. 4 To build a terrace of form, inside the weather of confusion, a private storm. 5 To wander through rooms of the mind searching for enchanted objects. What do I have to find? 6 To mark against the slippage of another year that we are here.
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Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 5:32 AM UTC
Some Uses of Song
There are certain things in life you wish you could change Some things you did you wish you could undo Some things you said you wish you could unsay Some things you felt you wish you could unfeel You wish you had a Ctrl+Z button in your life To change the things back to what it was
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May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
Ctrl+Z