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I ask the mirror:
is it art if I need them to look?
Or have I painted hunger
and called it creation?

If a poem blooms
and no eyes rest upon it,
was it still a garden,
or just weeds I whispered into rows?

Do I need applause
or just to not feel invisible?

Is the frame the prison,
or the proof I existed
-**
Still Untitled: 4
O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.
how cold is the beauty and perfection of appearance
Maria Monte Apr 28
At first,  
I am every story you’ve ever loved:  
the girl with wild eyes and a crooked smile,  
the glitterbomb dropped into your heavy life.  
I am the Manic Pixie Dream,  
softened and sharpened just right,  
scripted to be the key you didn’t know you lost.  

I love it, too.  
I love playing her.  
I love the way I can become  
everything I thought I couldn't be—  
light, brave, impossible.  
I fall in love with the girl they see,  
the one who spins in the rain,  
who kisses like it’s a dare,  
who never stays still long enough  
for anyone to notice the cracks.

For a while,  
I even forget the weight of myself.  
For a while,  
the mirror throws back someone I almost recognize,  
someone almost worth keeping.

But the days grow teeth.  
The seams split.  
My clinginess stops being "cute,"  
my mess stops being "quirky,"  
my fear starts leaking through the paint.  

Then I remember:
I'm not magic.  
I'm work.  
I'm a maze with no ending.  
I'm a mouthful of needs no one knows how to swallow.

And they start seeing it too.  
The way I flinch when they look too long.  
The way my laugh gets hollow.  
The way I start pleading through my eyes,
"Please, please don't look closer."

I know how this ends.  
The Dream Girl dies the moment she becomes real.  
Nobody writes sequels for the ones who stay.

So I run.  
I tear the script from my hands,  
I rip the costume at the seams.  
I run before they can stop loving the idea of me,  
before they have to face the weight of who I am  
beneath the glitter and noise.

I find a new stage,  
a new pair of arms,  
a new chance to believe in the girl I invented—
if only for a little while longer,
If only to live in someone else's dreams,
If only to forget the weight of waking up.
I am utterly disgusted with myself for leaning into a very misogynistic archetype, but also, it feels good to love myself through someone else's eyes. Yeah, I know it's bad. I'm working on it. I just slip so often.
when you were close
your voice would drown me
your hurtful words
the silence crowns me
i stayed quite because i knew
thats the only way i would keep you
i wept
i barely slept
i stayed awake
every stupid decision id make
i did it for you
for your praise
your time
i wish youd stayed
called us "mine"
for an old abuser
Lyle Feb 24
YOU
I wanna die, wanna quit, won’t you stop at my limit?
Tough it up, stick it out, take a hit and cower down
Wanna drown, wanna sink, mind’s so foggy I can’t think
I lie and steal and sneak and fake, and worst of all,  I manipulate
I’m just like you, can’t you see? I’m everything you wished for me
Make you happy? Make you proud? I couldn’t do it, kick me out
I can’t stay, but I can’t leave, I just can’t seem to get away
Flip the script, turn the tables, happy endings are just for fables
Not good enough, ask me why? It's not because I don’t ******* try
You tell me to change yet I stay the same, you try to guilt me, cause me shame
When I scream, the sound is gone, because no one seems to catch on
I’m shaking, burning, my life in flames, I feel like ruining me is your aim
Between my knees, my head hangs low, the weight of the trauma you bestow
When I cry, you see red, your blindness to it left unsaid
I scream, I shake, I shout out loud, but your yelling always drowns me out
In my mind, I beg you to listen, but I cannot talk without opposition
In your eyes, there's no recognition, it forces me to start demolition
Destroying my body, my mind, my soul, my sense of worth long gone in a hole
When you speak, I dully obey, but never enough, to my dismay
I’m the bad one, sneaky, conniving, dying while everyone else is thriving
Lying awake, in my bed, just to make sure there’s nothing said
If I close my eyes, I’ll wake too fast, and nothing else will take me back
To my sleep, where I’m peaceful at last
You walk past, what have I become? waiting for a blow that’s bound to come
I sink, I drown, I gasp for breath, reaching for all that I have left
Right behind me, there's a Past, one that wasn’t meant to come back
When I leave, I’ll be the Past, the one that’s not ever coming back
You’ll moan and gripe and whine and complain, but I tell you, it's all in vain
Am I meant to read your mind? What you want is never clearly outlined
You love the ones close to you, but you don’t see anything wrong with what you do
When you’re happy, times are good; we laugh and smile, all is well
The sun will shine, the birds will sing, and for a moment, we’ll forget the sting
rhyme weaver Jan 21
Do you ever stop to feel the weight,

Of the shadows you cast, the lives you take?

A kingdom built on muffled cries of anguish,

Where trust dissolves, and hope will vanish.

Each stone cemented by love in vain,

A throne of thorns where you stake your claim.

You painted yourself as my guiding light,

A savior who turned my wrongs to right.

With words like honey, you first drew me near,

Promising safety, erasing fear.

But behind the mask, your motives lay,

To take, to drain, to lead astray.

Initially, you showered me with gifts and praise,

A dazzling sun in my darkest days.

With every touch, every glance, you cast a spell,

A tale of love you wove so well.

But beneath the surface, cracks would show,

A fragile facade, a dangerous glow.

Your charm was a weapon, your kindness a snare,

A puppet master feigning care.

You mirrored my dreams, reflected my soul,

Only to shatter it, and take control.

The warnings were whispers I chose to ignore,

Lost in the rush of your grand encore.

You fed me visions of perfect bliss,

Each promise sealed with a fleeting kiss.

Yet shadows lingered in your embrace,

Hints of the darkness I couldn't face.

Your love was a storm dressed as the sky,

A whirlwind of sweetness, a hidden lie.

Now I see through the glittering haze,

The way you trapped me in your maze.

Only three months in, your mask began to slip,

Your words grew sharp, your kindness flipped.

Disrespect for women laced your tone,

A twisted king on a fractured throne.

You spoke of love but mocked my name,

Fueling the fire, stoking the flame.

You spewed gaslighted truths, I questioned my mind;

I was lost in a labyrinth you’d designed.

Every tear was met with disdain,

A cycle of cruelty, a haunting refrain.

Your jokes were daggers cloaked in jest,

Cutting deep where I tried my best.

The gaslight burned, distorting the night,

Leaving me desperate to prove I was right.

I saw the cracks, but you spun the blame,

Turning my fears into a cruel game.

"You're too sensitive," you'd always declare,

As if my pain was yours to compare.

In three short months, the facade fell apart,

Revealing the void where you kept your heart.

I gathered my strength, and decided to break free,

Convinced I deserved more than your cruelty.

I packed up my heart, my shattered resolve,

Thinking this time, the problem’s solved.

But you'd follow with guilt, a masterful art,

Your tears a weapon to pull me apart.

“I need you,” you’d whisper, “I’ll change, you’ll see,”

And again, you knew I’d believe in the fantasy.

The cycle repeated, a toxic refrain,

Hope resurrected, then shattered again.

Though I slipped away, no longer in chains,

You still acted as if I wore your name.

You played my empathy like a violin,

Twisting my kindness to let you back in.

Each time I ran, you’d pull me back tight,

A push and pull, a never-ending fight.

I knew I deserved a love that was pure,

But your deception made my heart unsure.

I truly longed for relief and release,

But your guilt held me captive, stealing my peace.

I lived in your shadow, tethered by lies,

Lost in the storm you brought to my skies.

You bled me dry of my joy and my light,

Draining the self-love that gave me my fight.

I cared for you, and I loved you still,

But never in the way that real love fulfills.

It wasn’t passion, nor hearts set ablaze,

But hope in the man behind your charade.

You never loved me; your heart was a guise,

A tool to secure what your ego prized.

All you wanted was a son to bear,

Your hollow name, your family’s heir.

Your love was a cage, your plans a snare,

A selfish pursuit, devoid of care.

So delusional: You thought I’d marry you and give in to your game;

You thought I'd sacrifice myself to bolster your name.

You saw me as nothing but a willing womb,

A vessel to carry your family’s bloom.

But I was never a pawn in your selfish desire,

I was never a spark to feed your dwindling fire.

You never even cared who, just needed the deed,

A son to fulfill your inherited greed.

How foolish you were to think I’d comply,

To live for your goals, to let myself die.

You underestimated the strength I wield,

A heart unbroken, a soul unconcealed.

Your intellect faltered, your brilliance a fraud,

Revealing a coward, unworthy of laud.

You’ll never trap me; I’ve severed the ties,

Exposing the truth beneath all your lies.

Even without love or a title, you thought I was yours,

Claiming my life, locking all of the doors.

You fancied yourself a god of my fate,

Blind to the strength that would seal your state.

Your narcissism spun its tangled thread,

A throne of delusion inside your head.

But I was never yours; I broke your snare,

A hollow man, left grasping at air.

In those last six months, the truth was clear,

I saw your games and escaped your sphere.

I loved myself more with each step away,

Reclaiming the light you stole each day.

Your name, your touch, no longer define,

The woman I am, this strength is mine.

You sought to trap me, to make me your own,

But I rise unbroken, no longer alone.

I left you behind before the new year began,

To leave you in the past was my final plan.

Now 2025 blooms with self-love and grace,

A future of true love, I’m finally ready to embrace.
1.20.25
Lynette Dec 2024
Her eyes tell a story if you look close enough
Her shoulders are rounded from a life that's been tough

Her days carry on with no hope in sight
The same old song repeated each night

The angst of longing for the one that won't love back
Her heart is heavy and her days are black

But yet she keeps on hoping for him to see the light
To learn how to give himself and make everything alright.

She needs him to be with her while the chips are down
He can't seem to understand why she needs him around

She screams for help but no one hears her call
The one she needs the most won't listen at all

No understanding that this sadness she can't help.
There's no way out for her. Her life is a living Hell.
Written September 14, 2016
miras Dec 2024
Right in front of the mirror
Couldn't be an error—
Stood the two, unfazed
By the look of crazed
On both of them;
Clock shows - 2 AM
One was mesmerized
While the other - agonized.
Eyes were amazed by
The beauty of face and body;
They both made a cry—
“Disgusting…”, “what a hottie!”

Gazing at the window said:
“Imperfect and ugly,
Selfish and a phony—
You should be dead!”
They saw there nothing but
Failure and total ****;
Grasping their neck, wishing it to be cut;
Felt the hate that went from—
The pits of abyss
Which was the soul of this—.

“The hair and that skin!
So smooth and clean
Face perfect as a goddess—
Divine self, more and not less!”
They were happy,
To shine, fully ready
For the loving and sharing
Their light, with caring,
To others' miserable selfs,
To save their broken shells.

But the clock struck again—tick-tock,
And the two froze, locked.
One whispered, "Who am I, truly?"
The other murmured, "Am I worthy?"
The mirror stayed silent,
Its truth’s still defiant.
Two minds at war, yet one body—
A perfect mess of soul and folly.
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