badwords

1d

Friends for Dinner

They may not understand

Why you are the way you are

Or how badly it hurts to have to be

Or how hard you've tried to become

Or how often you fail to do what should be easy

They might not understand these things

But that doesn't mean that they can't see

Something else that's also true

I don't mean to provoke anxiety or fear

But maybe they're right about you

badwords 1d

This Is Not for You

You’ll tell yourself it’s a coincidence.

That you stumbled here.
That it’s random, accidental—
just another poem,
just another night.

But you know better.

You always know better.

You feel too much.
You think too hard.
You ask questions
after everyone else
has already stopped listening.

People say you're quiet,
but they don’t know how loud it gets
in the places you never let them see.

You laugh when it hurts.
You love like you’re being timed.
You dream like it’s a crime.

And still—
somehow—
you’re the one carrying everyone else.

You know what I mean.
Of course you do.

That’s why this isn’t for them.

This is for the one
who’s still reading.

For the one who keeps everything burning
behind their eyes.

You.

Don’t pretend it isn’t.

You’ve waited your whole life
for someone to say it this clearly.

I see you.

And I always did.

Bonus Round:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/5126927/control-group/

badwords 1d

I Burn

You smell the smoke—
so what do you assume?

That I’m dying?
That I’m weak?

Do you think you know fire
just because you’ve run from it?

I don’t flicker.
I don’t beg.

I seethe.

What did you think light was?

A comfort?
A cure?

I don’t chase the dark.
I hold still
while it blinks first.

This isn’t hope.

What would I hope for?

Permission?

You don’t like what I illuminate—
so whose lie are you defending?

I never asked to burn.

But now that I do—

Who’s going to stop me?

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4665572/light-anti-darkness/

1d

Agnes de Lods

The Inner Gap

Even something distant
Can give enough light,
Longer than just a while,
Carrying vivid, tender moods,
Rising like green plants,
Despite the cold, acid rain.

A hypnotic, sweet mantra,
A grateful murmur,
Whispered my true name,
Coming on time,
Before I closed the door.

I am at home now.
In a quiet zone,
On my piece of uneven,
Creaky floor,
Grounded by gravitation,
Free from messy thoughts,
Just to save the plumb line,
Not to collapse inward
Into an inner gap
Of what it should mean.

I shift my wardrobe
Of emotional scripts
To clean a tame mess,
Collected into short breaths,
Like colorful, sharp stamps,
Justifying a fading reason to stay,
rather than give up and go away.

Yes, I know that I can.
So, what am I afraid of?
That I am ready
To drop the weight
Of past attachment,
To feel the lightness
Of being loved?
To accept human warmth,
Enfolding peacefully
A fractured existence.

#theinnergap

1d

Nick Moore

Vague incendiary device

Vague meanings to their words,
Do I hear
Mockingbirds?
Maybe understand their gist?
Help me see, Through the mist.
Make a comment,
Do no harm,
Feels good to spread some charm.
Suddenly
I've tripped a detonator, an
Explosion of indignant words,
Come flying out.
Now mistakes, can be made,
But let's tell it straight,
People set,
Vague incendiary device's.

2d

guy scutellaro

....midnight in a rain soaked alley

the rain won't lift.

it moans a low,
lonesome sound,
gives no mercy.

a window opens.

"i'm a little lost lamb," she tells me.

and I look up and she smiles at me,
she always smiles,. "Maggie," I sigh.

"what are you doing out on a night like this?" she asks.

"i long to dream in black and white
of deserted city streets
to waltz down at night in a cold rain."

it's summer and Maggie's
hanging out the window,
streetlight in her eyes,
her long ***** blonde hair
getting wet from the rain
hangs down around her face.

the dreamer of all the good dreams.
i have to tell her, "Maggie, you're
so beautiful."

"come up. I'll tell your future."

I shrug my shoulders, "I know the future. you die."

"not with me." she laughs softly
like a summer breeze
and her smoky voice whispers,
"your getting soaked, come up
the fire escape."

"so you're the lost lamb," i laugh,
"then what am i? the beckoning scarlet knight,
the golden moth drawn to your fire?"

"there's no music, Jack, but you know
the song too well."

"who chooses who we are,
what we become?

"no pity for us lost lambs."

whether lost or found,
the way a bird knows the sky.
i always know that where ever
I drift
or whoever I might become

I'd can always
find my way back to Maggie's window.