"unhold" 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?
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Imagine a world with plenty of air
Which doesn't care less
That your lungs strive with pain.
Imagine a world filled with sunrise
Which doesn't care less
That your eyes cry senseless.
Imagine this kind of water
Which doesn't bring mildness
To your dry, dusted lips.
Imagine the world I imagine...
Sights painted with unknown,
Words in brackets tortured and thrown,
Twisted sounds in mirrorr unfolded,
Lies in black bags, stories untold
Thoughts like salted sands, fears unhold.
There are many the things I see
In the "too many things I can't see".
I imagine too much, too many at a time -
Then reality falls in a deep distress.
Imagine a world with air, water and sunrise
Or create our own universe
Which doesn't care less.
Sep 10, 2011
Sep 10, 2011 at 6:49 PM UTC
When I hurt I want to destroy myself
Too many mistakes I wish I could forgive myself for
Mind my mouth because others have it good
Things get worse for me it feels no one wants me around
Fell so hard I just want to stand over being kept down
Jobless to working with no time off
Making money too serious no time for fun
I can't run its like going back over the setback
I'm not worried for others id like them to stay
But they come and go like the seasons
I have my reason I stay away
Wives hate me accused of wrong
Friends disown me over a girl
I've failed in relationships I put my friends 1st
When I'm going through a break up it feels like nothing is pure
Or doesn't mean anything forgotten with time in the past
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
O <youknow> the words
sound so simple
~Letting ~you ~~~ go
but; ha¡ there you are¡
In. My. Skin.
& it's a ''knee ''jerk
a {{back {bend
a hair 》pull
purple bruise
| paper | cut |
where¿doieven¿begin
spl/it/tin/g /cel/l/s
unwish-those-wishes
....to° the° moon°
Unkiss
Unhold
Undress
& back a _ gain
you're in [you're in] you're in
left < to < face
the GReater truth:
there is no
UnDo > you.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
I have to unhand her, unhold her,
spell a widdershins wander
to unpick the stitches of time
sewn together.
I have to unlive her, unlove her,
-muster a fiction, a line of defence,
a charm of protection, a cobbled pretence
to convince that I'm better without her,
- but to court a dementia
that summons a shade
to centre upon the mistakes
that we made-
is, itself, a deceit.
For there were such pleasures
embossed on the soul
to remain in forevers
that cannot be changed.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:58 AM UTC
My mother my world,
Was the sentence I always hold,
When I grew up a little old,
Started doubting ma own word...
Don't do this, don't do that,
Don't eat this, u will grow fat,
Don't watch tv u vil lose your eyes,
Don't read novels it's fictions and lies.
You scold me first For not knowing "how to cook,"
You scold me second when I come in boyish look,
You scold me again when u knew abt ma boyfriend,
You scold me forever for loosing ma foreign friend...
First time in ma life I wanna hear you shout,
"That's ma daughter "I wanna hear that loud,
U knew I love poems, slogan and stories too,
I wanna write about us just I and you...
Please unhold ma hand and let me go,
Be ma mom don't be ma foe,
I wish you to be really clear,
Either you support me or leave me here....
I wrote poems, I wrote slogans,
I wanna write like Henry Logans,
I wish u appreciate me once in ma life,
Please encourage me once when I am still alive.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
your fists
unclench
like flowers
as you
unhold
the morning.
the flowers
like lips
they open
and the wind
and the bees
carry your voice
in the pollen.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
My mother's did
Everytime she's miss
She use his clothes
Hope him hold her so close to real
And throwback their memory
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
My breath gambles
When air unhold
When embers sleep
My mind is bold
His bright eyes flashes,
his whisper sighs
With vivid breeze
Frozen memoir dies
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
The cold night’s howling wind was touching my face during the ride on rolling wheels with thinking heart, on the roads of Minna—the western bypass.
I was with two eager eyes and two lonely palms when I left my sister’s café to you, somewhere around 8:45pm
Some minutes later I saw the gas station sitting at the peace of your neighborhood in that sunless dark hour with quiet moon in half majesty.
The gas station was scanty, maybe due to the hour.
And I saw that fruit-seller whose art of arranging fruits is always something to marvel upon.
I was glad to witness how great distance reduced into yonder, bringing two hearts closer.
I took a right turn, passed that small women saloon on the walkway,
Then down the road to your parents' house.
I saw you and finally my lonely palm held another lonely palm like we were reading love poems in the touch.
My eager eyes saw you—you walking art of the Divine.
I saw those brows and eyes that I placed above mine.
The cold you caught last week denied my ears the clearness of your voice, but my heart heard it all.
It was feminine, sweet, delicate, sweet, melodious, sweet. My best song is this voice, yes. It is sweet.
Seconds dissolved quickly, birthing minutes until I must say goodbye, and unhold, and unsee. I knew that closeness will again turn to yonder, and it will extend, and distance will be in between our hearts again.
Upon leaving I saw the headlights as they were uniting with the working streetlights of your neighborhood, unlike the faulty ones standing at my side of Minna.
A truck approached us and I crossed the road backwards, so I can watch you laugh and walk away.
That reckless act was done by the union of the romantic in me and my inner child. If it had led me to injuries or to freedom from mortality, wouldn't that have been a good way to go? From a night ride on western bypass to see you, to a soul’s night flight to heaven watching you.
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 1:53 AM UTC