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Let us pretend
That we were nothing
But some casual affair
2 AM ***** dystopia
Just another night
To forget

Let us pretend
That years of silence
Can somehow bend
White lies into
Truth

Let us pretend
For burying regrets
Seems all there's
Left to do
We should be pros by now...
we use words
to communicate
words spread love
as well as hate

to lift you up
there's a fair amount
to bring you back down
if you get too proud

words when we need
to make a point
hoping that we can
knowing that we won't

words with hidden meanings
show our inner feelings
words that we imply
in our daily dealings

words are here to say
what some struggle to display
words we use for greetings
before you’re told to go away

when it comes to words
we cannot ignore
just what they do
and what we use them for
Here we are
       this and now  
          never turn your heart away !
Hear the song
that comes out strong
                then sweet ...
pure upon your lips of red

Birds of paradise
              fly high
           as they soar towards
                         the sun !

Here we are
                you and I
                        living for the other
                            as if we'll never die !
You return, though you know:
your glances toward the world
are bloodless.
Just as empty—your dreams,
too ashamed to be dreamed.

You are close enough
to resurrect silence,
to strip the world of shadows.
Your thoughts wander
along the same worn paths;
tears flow
against the current of sorrow.

I am too lost to believe
in longing.
Perhaps tomorrow
will bring at least one memory.

The venomous present
will turn into
an unfinished autobiography.
Perhaps God will teach us
to wait—slowly.

A night will bloom within us,
a night no one dares
to name aloud.
I become a body
awaiting a prelude to freedom.
You are the stillness in my storm,

the quiet place where my soul exhales,

the warmth I reach for

when life turns to winter.


You are home—

where every mask slips softly from my

skin, and the rawest part of me

is free to speak,

to simply be.


You smooth the edges that pain left jagged,

you lift the light in me buried deep.

With you, I am known

in ways I never dared to hope.

Time is thief when I’m with you

The hours vanish—

still, it is not enough.

Even skin to skin,

I long to be closer, than closeness allows.


You were formed for me, and I for you—

not as halves, but as answers,

as mirrored calls across the dark.


And this love—

it grows, it deepens, it breathes,

an unfolding masterpiece,

written in the margins of our every day.
For my love and forever home.
I’m sorry I loved you like that,
like my soul already knew you.

Not just the magnetic force of you,
but every version you buried:
the boy who flinched,
the man who ran,
the heart that never thought it was worth staying for.

I saw it all,
the shadows, the fractures,
the beautiful, broken mess of you.
And I loved you anyway.

I’m sorry I loved you
the way I did,
with everything,
when you were only ever half-open.
I’m sorry for the love
your hands weren’t
steady enough to hold.
I’m sorry I still carry it,
fiercely, quietly,
like it has no expiration date.
To be a woman is to be objectified.
Through your eyes,
I am never just a soul wearing skin,
I am only skin. A body.
And this body
has been too thin.
Not thin enough.
Beautiful, but only when it gives you what you want.

I’ve been told to change, to squeeze,
to mold myself into your ideal:
perfect skin, perfect shape,
a perfect everything,
forever growing younger instead of older.

But I don’t need your commentary.
I don’t want your opinions.
Because I don’t need you to want me.
I don’t want to be craved,
I want to be earned.

This body is just a vessel.
My soul is what quenches thirst.
It loves, not to ******, but to nurture.
It builds, it softens, it embellishes your light.

Only the emotionally fluent
and the spiritually grounded
may proceed to touch this mind,
or this body.

I am not for everyone.
Nor do I want to be.
To every woman who’s ever felt like a reflection in someone else’s fantasy—
This is your reminder:
You are not here to be palatable.
You are here to be powerful.

Follow my instagram @incurable_poet
Driven by red
riding hood,
wheels of eternity run
hot and cold
along the tracks
in her arm.

Around the bend
there are jigsaw
pieces of a puzzle,
scattered as destinations
once towns and villages,
now fodder for
the migrant beginner.

According to fable,
there's a wolf at the door,
home is no longer
a worthwhile rendezvous,
but a trap of origin.

Misery is a train ride,
a stray fantasy,
lingering in the wilderness
of her fractured mind.

She sells her gold bracelets,
for she needs
the dark coal,
she seeks
its deep freeze.

She can then
be many things
along the journey,
just never
a connection,
never a permanent signal.
~
August 2025
HP Poet: Nick Moore
Age: 50+
Country: UK


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Nick. Please tell us about your background?

Nick Moore: "I was born in Knutsford Cheshire; my parents split up when I was 7, so me and my mother moved to the North of England, this affected me greatly, influencing many poems. I didn't like school very much, finding it too restrictive, going straight into work at 16, into the university of life (a well-used saying at the time) working with adults with a learning disability for many years. I moved to Cornwall 10 years ago, never missing a day on the beach."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Nick Moore: "Since 2011. I was in a band for a while, around the age of 20, writing songs, when I felt some of the songs seemed like they could pass as poems. My daughter was born a few years later, she sparked something in me, that just had to be expressed; the first poem I wrote was about her, what a child sees."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Nick Moore: "Just about anything: philosophy, science, comedy, music, people, nature; but I have to let the idea grow in my mind, it's there in the background, and when it's ready, it will make itself known."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Nick Moore: "As a child, I was fascinated with the lyrics to songs, certain ones really spoke to me; for example Daniel by Elton John, the emotion in those words really got to me, so poetry was inevitably going to come into my life; so for me, it's a way of expressing thoughts and feelings that are hard to just bring up in a conversation."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Nick Moore: "Mark Bolan, was the first poetry I read, think the book was called Warlock of Love? Jim Morrison, Bob Dylan, Edgar Allan Poe, W.B. Yeats, C.S. Lewis and the many poets on Hello poetry."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Nick Moore: "Growing my own food, reading, surfing (not very good), listening to music, watching films from the silent era to recent ones, and walking my dog."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Nick, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Nick Moore: "Thanks again."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Nick better. We most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #31 in September!

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