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Tell me, my dear
Do you really hate me?
Or are you just mad that
I opened the Pandora's
Box inside your head?
God knows what you'll find there...
With flour, you can make dough
With tomatoes, you can make sauce
But top them with cheese
And add a little heat
And you can make magic
There's food, there's great food, and then there's pizza.
I could never write
Anything remotely
As flawless as you do
So I'll fake it until
Someday I can find
Beauty in words too
It's hard not to feel like a fraud among such amazing writers here at hepo.
Gazes magnetically meet
Across the crowded room
A slight touch of hands as we
Pass through the hallway
I steal a kiss when
No one's around

P.s. no one can know
About a girl I hurt a lifetime ago...
I used to be bold and fearless
Annoyingly self assured
Daydreaming about greatness
Telling everyone about how
Someday I'd rule the world.

Those days are long gone
Making me feel like a hollow shell
A mere shadow of my former self
And life became all about
Playing a role I simply can't fit
Fooling everyone...
But me
Will this anguish and emptiness ever go away?
How I deeply wish that
You could see yourself
The way I do
For it's quite a view
To my wife... how can a person so beautiful have such a terrible self esteem?
Can we ever be friends?
Or is our weird collection
Of unfinished business
Far beyond repair?
Could a thing so broken somehow work?
I wish things could be
As simple as they were
Back then when I would
Pick you up at school
And we'd drive
All day long
Routeless
I miss being young and carefree by your side
They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact

For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul

Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence

Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen
This is a poem my friend Mariya wanted to have written, but couldn't do it 'cause she's too busy saving the world.
Edit. Mariya was KIA in 04/04/25. She was a true hero and will never be forgotten.
You once told me
That we're bound to
Be star-crossed lovers
Ill-fated by the Norns
Doomed to fail from
The very start

And so we remain
Perfectly unfinished
A bittersweet loose end
Beautifully haunting the
Back of my mind to
The end of my days
Not a sad poem... just a tough one. The very last.
You knew from
The very start how
Badly messed up I am
So you should've said no
You should've runaway
Yet I'm glad you didn't
I'm glad you chose
To stay
I can only hope that I haven't fooled you into it...
We can be strangers if you like
We can talk about the weather
Our silly plans for the weekend
Or how life has been kind to us
Trust me, I'm a terrific actor
You'll hardly be able to tell

We can be strangers if you like
Or at least we can pretend that
It doesn't shred us to pieces...
Have you ever come across friends and lovers that meant the world to you... and then had to act like they were mere acquaintances?
Never mind... hello there, stranger!
REPOST: written in Jan/25.
We can be strangers if you like
We can talk about the weather
Our silly plans for the weekend
Or how life has been kind to us
Trust me, I'm a terrific actor
You'll hardly be able to tell

We can be strangers if you like
Or at least we can pretend that
It doesn't shred us to pieces...
Have you ever come across friends and lovers that meant the world to you... and then had to act like they were mere acquaintances?
Never mind... hello there, stranger!
Loving you is the
One stupid idea that
I'll never regret having
How could I ever do so...?
You spoke about leaving
So often and for so long
That I didn't believe
You'd ever be gone
I miss you everyday and I wish I would've been there for you...
I have loved you
From the moment our eyes
Met across the crowded street
On that scorching summer day

And though summer
Soon came to a bitter end
I have loved you through
Every season ever since

And I guess I always will
When I picture happiness
I think about how stunning
You looked in that sundress
And even better without it
Probably the only thing I appreciate about summer...
After years of
Constant self-abuse
I've finally reached
My breaking point
And I don't think
Superglue will
Do this time
Congrats Peter, you've done it...
I held you close to my heart
While you kept me deep
Within your teeth
Just a small piece about reciprocity.
Since I was a little kid
There was something
Deeply disturbing about
The attic at my parent's
It was chilling cold there
It made unnatural noises
And it felt like the walls
Were always watching

One night when I was 17
And home alone, I woke up
To what sounded like nails
Scratching the wooden panels
So at the top of my teenager
Stupidity, I took an old pistol
And went to check out what
Was going on there

I went upstairs, gun drawn
Just to have my jaw dropped as
I saw this slim and tall shadow
Standing in front of the fireplace
I stood there in utter shock for
What seemed like a lifetime
Until I gathered the courage
To ask: 'who are you?'

The shadow replied with
A deep and inhuman voice:
'I'm the demon that your
Grandfather brought with him
From the Great War in the east
From him, I passed down to your
Father and now the time has
Come for me to dwell in you'

In an adrenaline rush, I ran
Downstairs as fast as I could
Slammed my beedroom door
Locked it and barricaded it
But the demon wouldn't quit
He tried to break in, frantically
Pounding and screaming:
'Let me in, let me in'
This is the most terrifying nightmare I ever had. My therapist said this is my subconscious telling me I want to be different from my father and his father... but I don't know. To this day, I'm not entirely sure it wasn't real.
It could never work
You were a duchess
While I was a fool

But what a pretty
Dream it was...
If only my blood was blue...
I can feel the rough rope
Gently caressing my neck
Embracing it like an old friend
I'm not afraid, I'm just tired
So very tired of everything

So I take a deep breath, 1, 2, 3...
And in a passionless swift move
I kick the bench under my feet
Dance in the air for a little while
Until I finally find my peace
Note 1: this poem was reported and taken out of HP. After a review, it went back on (gladly Eliot York has more sense than the one who flagged it).
Note 2: if you're having this kind of thoughts, please, talk about it. Seek help!
Original note: Another nightmare I had last week. Woke up sweating and frantically kicking the air.
It's not like suicide is a new thing to me - I attempted it when I was 15... but I haven't had suicidal thoughts in many years. And that's as scary as it gets. I don't wanna give in to them.
I'm terrified
With the idea
That our undoing
Might become the
Latest addition to my
Vast list of shortcomings
Yesterday my wife said she wants to move out. I know she meant it and I can't say that I blame her, for I wouldn't want to stay married with my current self either. I really hope that I can make her come around. I'm just not sure how.
Now at the end of all things
As we're breathing sulfur and
Lead's pouring over our heads
I'm glad you're the one I'm
Sharing the trenches with
This is the first thing I'm able to write in almost a month. A little piece about my mental health struggles and how grateful I am to the ones that have my back right now.
The weeds in our garden
Grew as fast as the pile
Of your unreplied letters
Such a sad race to behold...
REPOST. Written in sep/24.
The weeds in our garden
Grew as fast as the pile
Of your unreplied letters
Such a sad race to behold...
Life broke
So many promises
That I meant to keep
Does that make me a bad person...?
My childhood was
Fu**ed up in a way that
I can hardly feel anything
So now I keep on playing
The character I've created
In a futile attempt to fill
Such endless void
Will I ever get to see colours again...?
Perhaps you're my Dulcinea
And I'm only a fool taking
Windmills for giants
How delusional can I be...?
I'm afraid my words
Will forever rest on
This mediocrity pillow
And I shall never be
Worthy of the
Muse's kiss
A poem about writer's block is such a bad cliché... but my friend Mariya here at HP was just talking the other day about 'der Kuss der Muse', so I think it's appropriate to write about it.

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