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J Valle Aug 2016
For those fortunate hearts
Who ignore the feeling
And for those unfortunate ones
Who impose the feeling
You'll know.

It is like forgetting the lyrics
Of your favourite song.
It is like having a cough
That just won't give up.
It is like every punch in the face
You've ever had and will ever have.
It is like forgetting midsentence
The last line of your essence.
It is like not being able to draw
What seemed perfect in your mind.
It is like the feeling you get
When you are strucked by the wind.
It is like spilling something
In your favourite shirt.
It is like a deep ache
You can't locate.
It is like loosing the last piece
Of a 1000 pieces puzzle.
It feels like falling
Without an end nor beginning

If you love someone who won't love you back.
You'll know.
It feels like everything you can think of.
Except for being loved back.
Zell Jul 2017
Could it be that our souls have already stumbled upon each other in another existence? One which sets no boundaries and requires no certain standard of love. For there is a sweet familiarity in the flow of your sentences and the heavenly scent of your perfume which lingered even when you’re not around. Maybe too familiar. That even the slightest touch of a hand in the most unexpected moments sends a feeling of connection as though i’ve known you for so long and yet the heavens forbid us to recall.
© 2017 D.A. Barreras
Vexren4000 Jan 3
Unfortunately we parted ways,
Somewhere down the line,
Life gives, and takes away.
Even the most precious of treasures,
Can fade away like sunsets.
Leaving nothing behind but an impression. An echo. A cry for help gone unheard. A day of suffering ended in the peace of death.

©BAS
acm Sep 2018
you know how they always say things, like:
what goes around comes around
karma, *****!
/good things come to those who wait/ ?

well, unfortunately
i'm here to report
that sometimes,
you just get colon cancer instead.
Joy B Sep 2018
I know I’m never best
Not even second best
But when you use me like that
When I’m your toy that you play with for a while
At least until something better comes along

                          I guess I’m more useful than I thought.
JayceeJellies Nov 2014
She comes over for the night,
She seems to be alright.
I'm not sure if I like her yet,
But that doesn't seem to matter,
She's just that close to my sister.

She started to stay over on school nights,
Something just wasn't right.
Soon enough she never left,
I began to feel like I was being replaced.

I'm not trying to sound selfish,
And no I'm not jealous.
But I am confused,
Why are you telling me this unfortunate news?

She hasn't left for weeks.
I'm sick of being the subject of greed.
I want my family back.
Just tell me that she'll eventually leave.

I'm now starting to feel neglected.
I've been replaced in every way I had imagined.
But you don't seem to see it that way.
I don't think the girl is leaving any time soon.
Molly Nicole Oct 2017
Cracks in my character
Lined with silk
Lovers touch
Like a sharpened blade
Gliding smoothly
Only painful when removed
I'm a story book of unfortunate events and cliches
And the morbidly curious find their way
Into my arms
A comforting fear
A lion taming circus

I'm not sure anymore if this gun
Is still loaded with flowers

But you
Hold me so tight
Squeeze out the anxiety
Catch it
Make me a balloon animal with its breath
The most beautiful rebound.
Andrew Aug 2017
We're in hell
Can't you tell?
No you can't
You only listen to the teller
All other voices are drowned
Because he's a yeller
For the useless things we're bound
That fill up our cellar
And our living room turns into a dying room
When the seller is the jailer
And salvation comes from tailors
Who can cover up the pain inside
With all the comfy clothes we buy

Money is the blood of our society
It's circulation provides oxygen
But we spill money into spilling blood
And we're funneled into killing love
So we can concern ourselves
With people not getting things they don't deserve
Rather than people getting what they need
Our blood starts clotting
In the fortunate arteries
As the rest of our body goes numb
It seeks medicine for healing
And drugs become our autoimmune disease
Redistributing blood to the suffocated areas
An unfortunate recompensing for injustice
When the persecutors
Become the prosecuted
Lives are exploded
Like Afghan villages
Lives can grow back
Like poppy fields

That's the score
And it makes me want to score
Until ****** drips from every pore
And ******* fills me to the core
I could just live at the liquor store
Where benzos are my father
And **** my mother
So I can ignore the death of my brother
My family is in trouble
Our society is in rubble
Carter Ginter Sep 2014
Silence surrounds                                                        ­    The sun still shines
but loneliness cannot exist                                               on this perfect day
Not in a place                                                            ­            except, too often,
where time never quits.                                                       no children play.
It's unfortunate                                                      ­                 The empty park
that bit by decaying bit                                                    beyond these walls
our generations keep                                                             cries in memory
losing grip.                                                            ­             of laughs and falls.
It's a terrifying thought that                                                             ­ But wait,
when asked "what time is it?"                      does hope approach at dawn?
it'll seem foreign and insane                               He pauses to finish a text..
to glance at my wrist.                                                    And then he is gone.
The goal of the assignment was to write two sections about two different things and tie them together creatively in the title.
ottaross Aug 2015
When a rain-storm surprised the city
Passers-by looked down with pity
At a large group of nutters
Inspecting the gutters
An unfortunate planning committee.

They decided today was good timing
Below-streets they soon were climbing
Where the gutters connect
To the sewers they checked
And all got a very good sliming.
Who can resist a little limerick action?
Nadia Jul 20
Anxiety knows the world is burning
   Even if we can't see the flames

Anxiety knows predators are out there
   Even if we don’t know their names

Anxiety knows bad luck happens
  Simply unfortunate events lay claim

Anxiety knows less about statistics
   And much about things that maim


NCL July 2019
ruqi Feb 26
how critics
are merely
onlookers.
"maybe if you had a  business that you were passionate about then you would know what it takes to run a  business but you don't"
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
The circle closes over the dead woman's space.
Family and community heal, the scar tissue
between a young girl's *******. She had
shared conversations with my father about
the holes in their hearts. My heart, the
muscle, not the spirit, flutters when a
young girl bikes by or the heron flies.

By September flies are down, we can come
out of our canoes and risk the woods. Summer's tissue
is torn each night. Space above gives perspective
to the life one had. Jesus speaks your name?
And is Beatrix now traveling astronomy's corridors
at the speed of light, aware of herself, to the blessed heart?
Durante too is moving on, wayfaring with his virgil.

Much of the family gathered. My grandfather, Bart,
it was remembered sold his house to none other than Duke
Ellington and Lena Horne lived up the block. Andrew
played with her daughters, sons. Until every Italian
had moved east into Long Island, thinking themselves
better than blacks. I find each and all --
Hindus, Muslims -- hard-earned bone and prone to ache.

We are most happy the dead one's not us.
The chosen one, the unfortunate one, the
one whose name Jesus spoke, is gone
and is no longer one of us. She is the other,
as distant and separate from the family
as a black man or Hindu's sister. Missed less
than last night's sleep or meat and grateful

for such peace. I will be too if it won't
come too soon or too often. My observation is
54 or 84 you always seem to want more
what was accomplished or never finished isn't
enough. Greedy, overweight and blameworthy
is how I've felt about every wasted day.
Summer's tissue torn by the first frost night.

Judging by her feet, Judith will be a big
woman, great granddaughter of Bartholomew,
who sold his redlined house to Duke. See how she
stands near her mother, Jeanette, who
resembles so fiercely my grandmother, Concetta.
The circle closes over the dead woman's space.
Summer's tissue is torn, the family is lace.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Laine Viv Apr 2015
Striped carnation (refusal):
     I have long since discovered that the fires
     in me were never going away.
     The heaviness, from refusal
     to spit the ashes.

Queen Anne’s lace (fantasy):
     I thought you put out the fire last night
     but you weren’t there.

Willow herb (pretension):
     How long have you been gone?
     I told myself as many lies as I could handle
     but none of them ever worked.

Scabiosa (unfortunate love):
     We’ve built enough bridges to take us nowhere–
     tell me again what we’ve become:
     trembling hands,
     trying not to spill blood on what was left.
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