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Slowly taken away
What at some point
Felt like would be
Impossible to live without
Maybe for the best
Although that feels like a stretch
The heat of you means so much
Gives me space between time
And love to unwind when depressed
Despite confusion at times
Over the situation of our relationship
Wouldn’t trade places for anything
That would be a great waste
So as where we were withdraws
From the places once so familiar
Which are now merely nostalgia
They still hold such importance
New beginnings extend from the ending
And brings hope for reconciliation
That would be my preferred choice
Doesn’t always work like that
Sometimes relapses occur
Making you sink amidship
Crashing against the waves
As oceanic whirlpools stir wonderment
Tides drawing painterly crestfallen essences
Which create an atmosphere of resentment
Making pirates out of fishermen
Fleeting ships firing horrific elegance
Departing for lands of exploration
Returning when tired
And making amends
Slipping into old habits
Feeling an indifference within yourself
You thought things had changed
And they have
Theo Apr 3
they wrote a good poem,
they were acknowledged, approved, SEEN-
** my lonely, broke heart;
you yet have me.
ah and the other me too--
This one, that spites and spews and vitriols as lovers often
are wont to do.
ah my love,
yes, come,
CLOSE (
and no that was a whisper not
A SHOUT! (THAT WAS THOUGH!))
so close,
that -
drop, drop,
sssssssss,
the whistle
wouldnt budge
and it is time,
to find love ANEW now,
and begin
this new life of ours.
NaPoWriMo day 03
yıldız Mar 29
A black swan moves through silent streams,
With wings of night, it haunts the dreams.
It wears its sorrow, cloaked in dark,
A soul that drifts, lost in the arc.

But there, beside it, pure and bright,
A white swan dances in the light.
Its feathers shine, its heart is free,
A symbol of what good can be.

Two swans that glide, yet worlds apart,
One carries shadows, one a heart.
In every soul, both dark and pure,
The swans of fate forever endure.
Dom Mar 24
From birth until now
How I’ve loved you,
Wonder of my soul-
The light that shines home
A universe I would build for you
As time marches on,
My days grow shorter
And vision begins to blur
Unable to see the greater beyond

But should you go before me
Know that I’ll be right behind you
It will be okay, my sweetest princess
(I don’t want you to go)

I’ve had my fill,
Saw the heights of the hills
watching stars shoot across
As I wished upon them all
And you came to be,
Miraculous and free
I knew heaven was real

So don’t waste a moment,
Looking back at what could have been
When your future is bright
And our time is running out
I’m up and over all my best days
But if I could do it over I’d replay
The very moment you were conceived
Was the very moment I came to be
I just want to make you proud
Before I go.

But should you go before me,
I’ll be right behind you
Slay any demon calling,
Until we reach singularity
Know on my death bed, darling
I don’t want you to go…

Years carry weight,
I’m drowning in sorrows of regret
And hoping the tide won’t take you
But I know, as you grow, you’ll fly the nest
Find your own in and out of our orbit
I’ll wish upon the stars that take you-
To your destined path
I hope that you’ll remember me

But should you go before me
I’ll be right beside you,
Conquer any evil, but my dear
I don’t want you to go…
As I struggle with turning 40 later this year, and recompense about loss and aging, I can’t help but think of a time where my daughter is on her own and no longer needs me to guide her, and what would life look like if I or her suddenly passed unexpectedly…these are the intrusive thoughts I have left to my own devices for too long
Often the little kid in me asked,
How can people like this exist?
Two faced , hurtful and manipulative!
Grew up developed a hard coat,
To endure this dance with the devil .

The two pronged diabolical ways,
To see through this thick haze ,
Brazen - till the void grew bigger,
My heart once again set ablaze,
Twisted skills need no praise.

Do I play fairly with them ?
Do I twist my own ways ?
Should I really endure this pain ?
Will they not do this again?
Repeating misdeeds is their bane!

Should I even care or distance ?
Let them stay in their own pretense ,
Let their stares pass through,
The ghost of my wrath pass them,
Should I bind my lose ends in a hem?

What a waste of my time and energy,
They are but beasts from down below.
Creatures of these kind do persist,
My boredom is not their grand heist.
This exasperation should not exist !

I bow down to the force within,
Shed this coat of human existence,
Outwitted by reaction to the mundane,
I secure my stance to be sane.
Let not these thoughts bother once again!
I almost lost you twice this month,
Almost stuck a blade in my heart.

Tomorrow is March 15th,
A well-known time of bad luck.

I'll be looking over my shoulder every turn,
Be wear the ides of March.
I could not bear to lose her ever
73 drafts,
73 finished poems,
73 pieces I can't post,
73 plus instances of 502,
Bad Gateway.
502 is now my least favorite number.
can you tell me
why all these
young girls
with long
beautiful hair
soft luscious cheeks
sumptuous curves
adoration for vegan
virtuous fighters of oppression
woke to the point of irritation
their love for queer
impeccable music taste

can you tell me
why they
drape themselves
in death wraps
secondhand
blood-infused frocks

insidious corpses
stitched together
for what
to keep warm
when it drops to -2

can you tell me
why complacency wins
Nat Lipstadt Mar 19
AJean-Paul Sartre:
If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company

<>

stumbled upon while reading a movie review,
this almost a proverbial phrase provoking,
even stoking,

as we hold it up to the light,
twisting, turning the words,
as if it was a
kaleidoscope of diamonds,
looking at the fractured reflections,
for a better comprehension

we,
of two minds:
be-love and be-rued
this s l o w e d turning of our solitary solution
under the microscope ,
for critiquing
the two headed hydra
that has served us  well and poorly

you, dear reader, understand perfectly,
the utility and the inutility of aloneness,
the surge creativity that comes
from no distractions,
other than our internal attractions

which when
one interrupted by the company of,
insertion of a different catalogue
a holder of human foibles,
differentiating, threatening, upsetting,
and sometimes soothing,
always enervating,
unlike the soothe of solitude

either can overwhelm,
either can worse,
underwhelm
but
the crossover. when the contrast is
pointy and sharp,
raises an irritating questioning
like the cracking, dry skin, of
places where we do not put
moisturizing cream
for fear of feeling failure

each to their own,
the enjoy/unjoy of voices
claiming a  permanent correctness
of their viewpoint
  wringing in with
a legal pad of
pluses and minuses
listing side to dide,
but never adding up
to 💯
If we're being honest,
Not every day is a good one,
You can't make 'em all good,
Otherwise none would be good enough.

Sometimes you just can't fix a broken day,
You just have to take a deep breath and go to bed,
You've got all of tomorrow left.
It's been a long long Monday.
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