Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sorelle 6d
I built a home in your silence
Hung hope like art in the dark
You watched me drown in your absence
Called it growth while you tore me apart
I begged with hands that bled for you
But you pulled away like I stained your skin
No love left to give
No breath to steal
You left me lit
Watched me peel
Made a ghost and blamed the flame
Now say my name as you feel shame
You carved me
Hollow
Wide
Deep
Then turned your back like pain comes cheap
You call that space?
I call it spit
Fed me fire I won't forget
No love left to give
No skin to save
You left me lit in your quiet grave
Made the mess and left me raw
I'm the scar you can't outdraw
Never flinched while I collapsed
Not a word as my hands unclasped
You left the match and watched me burn
Don't you dare pretend you hurt
No love left to fake
No grace to give
You left me lit
I learned to live
Not for you
Not for them
For the silence you condemned
The fire they swore wasn’t burning
-Sorelle
Sometimes my spirit feels so weary.
Or maybe my soul is just done with hollow people,
sitting behind church doors and pillars of justice,
armed with hate.

-Rhia Clay
Cheyenne Jun 10
I feel Hollow.
Barren.
Empty.

That hollowness erodes my body,
leaving a trail of decay.
Cracks crawl through my brittle bones,
shattering my skull,
fragmenting my thoughts.

A carmine-colored river floods into my caving lungs,
before dragging itself up my throat.
The metallic taste slowly overwhelms my mouth,
and seeps through my gapped teeth.
My glass smile falls and shatters.

Terror grips what was once my voice,
holding sound captive-
my call for help erased by despair.
Only strangled sobs exist.
I'm left choking on my own life force.

Each sob collects upon my face;
a veil of tears cover my broken visage.
Shrouding me from prying eyes that encompass judgemental gazes.

Without even seeing,
their stares spear my soul and blacken my heart.
The forgotten, grayed ash
smothers out all that remains.

My rotted husk: a void, a dismal skeleton.
A vast emptiness that nothing can fill.

Broken.
Decayed.
Hollow.

It's what I am.
I'm reposting because I just won 7th place in a state contest with this poem. Any thoughts on it? Or advice to improve?
Cheyenne Apr 25
I feel Hollow.
Barren.
Empty.

That hollowness erodes my body,
leaving a trail of decay.
Cracks crawl through my brittle bones,
shattering my skull,
fragmenting my thoughts.

A carmine-colored river floods into my caving lungs,
before dragging itself up my throat.
The metallic taste slowly overwhelms my mouth,
and seeps through my gapped teeth.
My glass smile falls and shatters.

Terror grips what was once my voice,
holding sound captive-
my call for help erased by despair.
Only strangled sobs exist.
I'm left choking on my own life force.

Each sob collects upon my face;
a veil of tears cover my broken visage.
Shrouding me from prying eyes that encompass judgemental gazes.

Without even seeing,
their stares spear my soul and blacken my heart.
The forgotten, grayed ash
smothers out all that remains.

My rotted husk: a void, a dismal skeleton.
A vast emptiness that nothing can fill.

Broken.
Decayed.
Hollow.

It's what I am.
Dylan A May 7
The glimmer in your eye
          doesn’t shine the way I remember.
There’s still kindness in your gaze,
          but it feels hollow.
Your eyes look worn,
          like you haven’t slept in years.
Do you even remember
          who you are?
Still I give you the coffee
          that you might love more than me.
So I can sleep next to you
          while you stay up at night.
In shadows they lurk, with deceit as their guide,
Claiming truths not their own, where their morals have died.
A hollow pursuit, in the depths of the night,
Seeking light from others, to claim as their right.

But truth is a flame that burns from within,
Not a trophy to steal, nor a prize to win.
It's the essence of being, the core of our soul,
Not a void to be filled, nor a gap to control.

So let's hold our truth, with compassion and grace,
And walk our own paths, at our own steady pace.
For the truth that we live, is the light that we give,
In a world of shadows, it's how we truly live.
Maria Mar 31
You asked me: "May be it's love?"
I didn't know, what to say.
If it's dark without you every time.
So I can't even see myself anyway.

If wine is water without you!
If the air around is more bitter than poison!
If I'm not me without you!
Every day less of you I feel like an old some.

Every my step is a step into hollow.
No forward or backward, into an abyss.
I'm empty, I'm nobody without you!
And every my next step will be amiss!

‘May be it's love?’ - you asked me again.
I realize that I'm lost at all.
I don't breathe, I don't live without you,
And the Universe is tiny for me in whole!
I really want to introduce you one more my poem about love. I like to write about love. Although it is probably more correct to say that I love to live by love, with love, inside and around me.
Thank you for reading! 💖
Maria Mar 24
She doesn't wear vanilla dresses,
Ethereal shoes and a mint beret.
She doesn't accept gluey embraces
And kisses, where the truth is away.

She doesn't like stuffy speeches
About the Moon and stars at her feet.
She doesn't need a fiery chatter,
If there is a hollow behind it.

No use to disturb the Sun in vain
And lead it to shine only for her.
In fact all your cries are trait falsehood.
No need to be so low-lived amateur.

The sea throws a foam right at her feet.
Sea waves are noisy and bold.
Her ear's softly caressed by seagulls.
These birds are the peerless sea gold.

Her clothes are surely relaxed fitting,
And so it has always been.
The wind in her face, unfastened hair,
And he's nearby - it's the ultimate thing.
Perhaps it's her mistake, and vanilla dresses guarantee success. But alas. She doesn't know any other way. The other way isn't her. Her undeniable values are freedom, the truth, the wind in her face. And of course him! The one and only him!
One more story of true love. Thank you for reading! 💖
it does not carve a place inside my heart and demand it empty. this hollowness sits beside me like an oak tree, overshadowing and demanding. I fear it will become so great that I'll forget how to feel as it towers over me. Even while the beating of my heart peers from behind the leaves. Still there but ignored in favour of the desolate sky.
kinda in love with this, ****? i wrote that?
Oliver Feb 1
I never knew you wore a mask,
Not one stitched of velvet and lace,
But something deeper, carved in silence,
A role you played without a stage.

They called you charming, bold, and bright,
A leading star in life's cruel play,
But now I sift through tattered pages—
Scripts you wrote, then cast away.

Each line rehearsed, each smile strained,
A careful act, a practiced art.
But somewhere in the endless stage,
You lost the echoes of your heart.

Did you ever dream of slipping out,
Of shedding costumes, painted grins?
Or did the role become so seamless
You forgot where it begins?

Your laughter filled the hollow halls,
Your voice rang sweet, devoid of doubt.
Yet I can see it now—between the lines,
A silent plea you dared not shout.

And when the curtain slowly fell,
Did you expect a standing cheer?
Or did you hope, in some cruel mercy,
That no one saw you disappear?

I found the notes you never spoke,
The truths you buried in your chest.
The world’s applause still lingers hollow,
Yet you have finally found your rest.

So take your bow, oh phantom friend,
Beneath the lights that burn so bright.
I only wish I'd seen you sooner,
Before you faded into night.
I like making story's and the story behind this poem is the speaker learns their late friend didn't really know who they were and felt like they were pretending to be someone they weren't. when the friend realized this it was already too late they didn't know what was really them and what was a forced act. the reason for the late friends death is up to you, it could be self inflicted or sickness, or any other reason.

When I was proof reading and finalizing this one it made me cry.

I came up with a few ideas for the title here they are
The Mask You Wore
Applause for a Ghost
Lines Unspoken
A Role Too Well Played
A Role Well Played
The Tragedy of You
Obviously I chose Applause for a Ghost but I like them all so I wanted to share what the potential titles could have been.
Next page