Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Joel K Jul 30
Good Ideas—
Good ideas.

I lost the plot for today.
Scattering my brain because of demands.

A people pleaser, it seems like—
Filling their commands
with every good wish left in this world.

Even mentally gone,
there’s still so much to be said.

Exhausted.
Yet in need of execution.

Intentions foggy to many,
but metaphysical to me.

I could remember it tomorrow—
but I will not follow suit.
Not a computer so it’s all selective memory.

This emotion is pure,
and I can’t let it burn like the thought in my head.
So I thread on
whatever is left
and make it work.

Good Ideas—
Good Ideas.
I am trying to describe the feeling of meeting my own demands at the expense of other peoples expectation's but being tired it is a struggle to pull together, so this came out instead because it felt authentic.
Aidan Jul 27
Wait,
But I am here now.
Late words of support from those you needed much earlier
Fiona Jun 7
Speaking these syllables,
I slip und stumble trying to
find a word to express
the interest (the sum of our love).
Waiting I wonder what
the weather (partly cloudy with sunshine)
of our hearts become.
Touch your hand upon my soul,
tugging the energe[tic] time /
timing turns and twist of lips.
Loving you would listen
to the love you felt even when
hands fumbled
voice cracked
notes from the past
crumbled up in your pocket
telling you this is how it should
but this is not the same.
this reaches across
farther than what you compre-
hand in yours,
love me still.
reading house of leaves makes me want to write differently than I usually do.
He met her at the bus one day,  
Her smile like dawn, his heart astray.  
A fleeting glance, a laugh so bright,  
She lit the world in passing light.  

Her voice was soft, her words were few,  
Yet in his soul, a love he knew.  
But time was short, the ride too fast,  
Her stop arrived—his heart held fast.  

He watched her step onto the street,  
Her fading form, his lost heartbeat.  
His own stop called, the doors hissed shut,  
A silent ache, his soul left cut.  

If only time had paused awhile,  
Or fate had matched her steps to his mile.  
But buses run, and moments flee—  
Now all he holds is memory.  

A love untold, a chance undone,  
A station missed, a setting sun.
Ma-kayla May 15
Don’t Look Back

I shouldn't have walked home alone—
The street feels colder than I’ve known.

Footsteps echo, not just mine,
I glance behind but see no sign.

My keys shake quiet in my hand,
A voice once warned, “Don’t trust the man.”

My chest is tight, my pace is fast,
I pray each step won’t be my last.

I want to scream, but nothing comes.
My thoughts are loud, my body numb.

Please, not tonight—not like this.
I just want home. I just want peace.
This poem’s about that creepy feeling when you’re alone and can’t shake the sense someone’s behind you. Just trying to get home safe. We’ve all been there.
Lips together, pressed,
as if you were the one dead,
"Wake up"-your only prayer,
but death doesn't care.
Now you can only choke,
on words you never spoke.
28/4/25
Vrinda May 3
"Why do you treat me right?
talking late in the night
staring in your pretty eyes
you're so pretty, that I might
might pull up a fight
the stars above shine oh so bright
yet, I only see you far in sight
why?"
Next page