Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She undressed in the mirror.
Only the reflection watched.
I found her candle,
cold and forgotten.

Her hands moved like smoke
understanding how to be skin again.
Not performance. Not pleasure.
Just unlearning the habit of vanishing.

Her shadow held her shape
longer than I did.
She said: “Stay,
but forget.”

Her child slept,
four states and a foster name away.
She traced a name in steam,
the S curling like turning in sleep.
then let it melt under a kiss.

There was a song
caught in the ceiling,
something we never played
but always meant to.

I kissed her hair while it was still hair
and not a question
left behind on a pillow.

I opened the door,
it sang some other man’s name.
A line drawn, erased. No message left.
The room forgot its language.
My ghost obeyed
and lifted.
Written in 2001.
 May 31 Dianali
Lance Remir
I hate you
When you smiled, I smiled
I wanted you to be happy

I hate you
When you were successful, I cheered
I always believed in you

I hate you
When you're dressed up, I gasp 
I am taken by you yet again

I hate you
When you grew, I admired
I knew you were meant for more

I hate you
When you moved on, I stayed
I am always waiting for you

I hate you
When you faded away, I cried
I will only be a memory to you

I hate you
When you were in my life, I knew
I truly did love you 

I hate you
Despite everything, I begged 
That I could actually hate you
 May 28 Dianali
Jeremy Betts
Whatever will be, will be
I guess that's what they call certainty
A vague destiny
But where does that leave you and me?
A collective we
We'll have to wait and see
Due too love messing with thé
Predetermined story

©2025
The story of two people,
sitting in the gentle night.
They hold their hands
without impatient fear.
Maybe this is true intimacy?

Too many plans, too many
subtle strategies
in the hiding place—
everything to avoid
the pain after.

Longing for what could be,
we say goodbye
to the now,
that leaves so quickly.

Between words,
taming the common confusion,
we will never come any closer
to another human being.

Celebrating the quiet feeling
of comprehension,
absorbed by the paradox of facts—
above differences, imposed tattoos.

We are sitting in the deep,
friendly night,
holding entwined hands
with an ephemeral moment
of fulfilled, trusting intimacy.
 May 20 Dianali
Etherwise
For the first time,
I hold
and
I see you.
Originally a blackout poem.
 May 13 Dianali
M Vogel
this.
 May 13 Dianali
M Vogel
Selmhem Naise
03/2016

Poetry is so much
more
than many people think it is.
It is
the place
where the battleground of light and dark
makes its  finest stand..

or most pathetic fall.


Just like that, outta the blue
I realize that no matter what I do
There'll never ever be another you
And it hurts like hell...
Btw, how great is Chet Baker??
When I was cold,
my surface was so predictable.
An icy land allowed me
to be alone, distant, safe.

One day, the sun came,
and changed my frame.

The warm wind melted everything.
I became defenseless saltwater.

Untamed tears,
chanting my past lives
hidden in the drops
of who I was
and what I longed to mean.

With time, the calm waters
turned clear and soothing.

The particles of light shimmered silently
in the fractured space,
being so gentle, like a healing touch
lost in the dark past.

Now, when a strong wind blows again,
I'm so afraid of my untamed waters.
I don’t want to hurt,
I don’t want to be hurt.

Without shape, without frame,
I’m so strong and fragile
in perfect duality,
like a fierce ocean seen in fulfilled light.
I hear this endless symphony
calling me to the definitive solution.
Next page