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we were speeding down the highway
and there’s gasoline seeping out of my heart
and being set on fire
by all the boys i’ve loved before.

ignite me i’d beg
but once they were done
they never bothered to put the fire out.

the side of my car is crushed
but my heart is still on fire,
begging for someone to smother the flames.

to pay for the damage.
the therapy.
the removal of the emptiness in my heart.
to pay for a touch, a quick one that still lingers
and one i can still yearn for.

i’d crawl for the fire extinguisher
while breakup songs screams lyrics
in the back of my mind
and then i'd notice that my hands are slippery
but i’m not sure if the color is black or red
but i know it’s from you.

i am fueled on anger and love
while you drive away in your father’s truck
the one we used to sit and daydream
and tell secrets that rolled off of our tongues
like the way your tires are rolling away from the crime scene.

fast, effortless, and natural.

this was supposed to happen you’d say soothing me
and my burning heart and bloodshot eyes.
not even the airbags hit harder than those five words you swore to me.

you’re driving away as the extinguisher stumbles
out of my oiled-covered hands
while the memories of us replay in my mind
and i notice how the skid marks on the street
paint a messy picture of us.

you drove away fast, effortlessly, and naturally.

this was supposed to happen.
this was supposed to happen.
this was supposed to happen.

i can’t tell if my heart is black or red or blue
but i know it’s from you.
Micko 4h
I listened,
not because I was bored,
but because I cared.
I stayed,
not because I was lost,
but because my heart is rare.

You spoke of storms,
and I offered shelter.
You spoke of wounds,
and I offered love, not judgment.

Yet when the dust settled,
I realized...
some hearts seek a crowd,
but not a home.

So I folded my feelings like a letter,
unsigned, but full of truth.
And I walked,not in anger,
but in respect for my own soul.

Some exits are not slammed doors,
they are soft steps,
on paths lit by self-love...

Originally written by Micko.
29.April.2025 ©️
The new dawn 222.
I left an earring on your nightstand
like a dare,
like a dog whistle only I could hear,
like a lie I could almost live with,
like a warning you didn’t read.

You wrote me like you were killing time.
I let you.
I was tired—
tired of being the intermission
between things you actually wanted,
tired of holding out my hands
just to catch the sound of you leaving.

It was raining the next day.
Of course it was raining.
The whole city smelled like last chances
wrung out in the gutter,
like a bouquet dropped
when someone realized it wouldn’t change anything,

You said,
"Take care of yourself."
And I did—
by breaking every mirror
that still showed me your mouth,
by smashing every reflection
that looked like hope.

There's a version of me
still waiting at that train station—
wearing the wrong jacket,
gripping the wrong book,
mistaking longing for directions,
carrying promises like ballast.
I'll know it's you
by the way my spine recognizes the disaster
before my eyes do.

I hope she never learns.
I hope she keeps looking up every time the wind shifts.
I hope she believes in arrivals.
Even when no one steps off.
You put on your glassy mask
So I'll only see
The version of yourself
You contrived for me.

You slip on your suffocating shoes
So you can walk on
Like you're not gasping for air,
And nothing is wrong.

You tie up your hair tightly
So you can pretend
You're that pretty little girl again
With those once loyal friends.

You slide up your dejected glasses
So I can't see your bleeding scars
Hiding behind the facade—
I don't know who you really are.
I appreciate comments and feedback! :)
"You lack a vision for your life,"
"You are drowning in your own ambitions,"
"Do you genuinely believe you will succeed?"
"I cannot see you going that far in this journey,"

"Is this truly your purpose?"

Careful of your words, for I may cast you
As an antagonist in one of my countless stories,
Being a narrative, the WHOLE world shall see –
For I am a Writer!
The race to the top of silver rain mountain,
it's on the way down to the rivers of riches,
headed out west on golden threaded miles,
through the trees of greeds green ghosts,
in valleys of gilded breaths and golden hushes,
merchants, muses blow on as paper winds,
stay a while on beggars promises,
all to collect their coin of dreams.
greed is a hollow journey. pursuit of love, kindness, gratefulness, community, equality, fairness and peace i.e. things with depth will forever hold more value. greed can be found, of course, in all of these. Be grateful for what you have when you have it, even when you're struggling to make ends meet, especially then.
minisha 20h
Merely a ghost in the blue void,
flesh and blood kissed the lighthouse as
the silhouette of her beloved ship greeted her.
Yet stripped of his graze, she crumbled,
as guided by her vehement yearning and
cloaked in her gleam, he sailed closer,
but faded in the horizon forever.
this has been a personal experience btw, haha
The weather seems alright, beautiful and uptight,
Sweet with less avarice, an endless horizon, and a fleeting sight.
In my world, she was the weather,
I could do anything, but with her, I seem to do better.
Nothing seemed impossible, not even venturing through the Nether.
Effulgent was her presence; enticing, her nature,
The talks kept getting better and better and better,
It felt like the one we were looking for was here to savor.

Malicious and full of grief that once seemed as my future,
Looked like a disoriented thought more than ever.
I remember,
Back in the day when I was wilding,
Beautiful waves of comedic relief were a frequent sighting,
I used to have fun and not fight,
These demons, these thoughts that were always spouting,
Restraining me since I always doubted (myself),
But I knew there's always something,
To get me started,
I relinquished myself from ever doubting.

Nostalgic,
Thought that would be the way to deal with such things,
Big mistake! Because I got apprehended,
Condescending, thoughts got crazy; nobody to talk to, baby.
Misdirection, mazes of maybes, intercepting, decisions hazy,
On second thought, this person's lazy.

Now in a field of darkness, so full of despair,
I found you out of nowhere,
A spark of light and a gasp for air,
That's what I felt when my gaze landed upon you,
That even I could prosper, even by the length of a hair.
I was delighted for that came as a conclusion,
For a long time, I hadn't smiled, but then I did, as if I were adhered,
Sickeningly, any bond I form is doomed to fall, I fear,
Regardless of how much I do, it's always a "Too Sweet" kind of dilemma, my dear,
I don't easily love, but I loved you, even if it was due to my insecurities and issues, I state my mind clear,
Kind of pointless to rant and yap to myself, writing paragraphs upon paragraphs, hoping you'd notice; clowning myself, makes me jeer,
I guess that's how the story goes for a hopeless romantic expecting love to be simple as he was sincere.

With all these melodramatic events, I reckon he could really do some improv,
One such thing is doing a show, but won't it be too rough?
He might become yet another one to bite the dust,
A victim of emotion,
A victim of trust.
Life's predicament is quite harsh and if not for his experience, he'd been lost,
Though sounds drastic and revolting,
Giving up can also be a sign of love,
A hope for emotion,
A hope for trust,
Thus, this lousy "Rascal doesn't dream of falling in love”.

                                                                                      -Asher Graves
There’s an anime called Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai, and it’s one of my absolute favorites. I always wanted to write something inspired by its title — and this piece came out as a result. It's both sentimental and slow-burn, just like the feelings the anime evokes for me.
Hex 1d
The sky seems dark and light remains far,
Light is taken by darkness and cruelty has grown too harsh.
Hope fades like a whisper lost in the storm,
As sorrow and silence together form.
The Mind Olympics – thoughts going round
and round my once-stable mental state –
Where I transitioned from a season of declaring,
“I can cope with anything,” to now saying,
"I need anything to help me cope."

I am like a pristine canvas, pure and white;
yet, the moment a single black spot appears,
the harmony is shattered.

As the vibrant colours in my eyes fade away,
I find myself painted with the stain of hollow
anguish – empty victories fill my grasp, yet they
only amplify the weight of my own suffering.

Mental health is no laughing matter;
yet, in a cruel twist of irony, I find myself chuckling
at the absurdity of believing I am the sole bearer
of such heavy thoughts. All I yearn for, is someone
to truly listen to the whispers of my heart.

Can we please talk?
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