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#amateur poem
crazypossumman · 6 months
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too late, i think {a poem by r. h. stoker}
tomorrow, i think,
will be far too late.
this fleeting desire
will have long passed me.
these dark hours at night
i hold close at heart:
the better person
i so long to be.
stronger and faster,
thin, wise, and well-dressed:
better, and maybe
good enough for me.
so i lie in bed,
close my eyes and grieve
that better person
i will never be.
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Writing Tag ↓ | Pinned | Writing Masterlist | Kofi | Etsy
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alyosharelic · 10 months
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naked and kinda afraid
in his car. pressed against a chest. i got this far, let’s see the rest.
in the woods, shaking. i don’t think i understood, what i was getting myself into.
it’s 5:56 in the morning. my 14 year old innocence, is what we’re mourning; i remember poorly, but i know this much he got away.
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caffeinated-and-gay · 8 months
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Hiding Game
Collapsing teeth and drunkish smiles
Lighted by the city you freed your hand from mine
Stumbling through the alleys
Pupils dilated by your lust
There’s a lens of shadow in our memories
Always wrong, always hide
Ambushed by your scent
Footsteps haunting my rest
Cast my back to the nooks of this town
Daylight and noise fill up the street
But when the passage is empty and the choir sings
Two silent shadows dance to the moons gleam
Hate the street lamp and the car
Anything that can shed light to our lips attached
Hiding game can only end up with ugly cries
Resentful looks and well thought alibis
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After you've gotten used to the feeling of the knife piercing your heart, marinating in your blood and leaving a gruesome injury on your body, it hurts more to take it out than to leave it in.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ヽ(°□° )ノ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
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dontknowtheend · 9 months
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Hold the train,
I still have some luggage to pack
But you won’t wait for it, will you?
Right, I recall now
I’m not a passenger, not a train nor the conductor
- I’m the train station
I don’t get to have luggages to pack
I don’t get to upload them to have a break
I’m a train station or maybe a bus stop,
Holding people as much as I can ‘till their next stop
Always guiding them to their next chapter
Always a guide or the lesson itself
A muse, if it’s my lucky day
Why don’t I get to have a next chapter?
Why do I have to stay still - as the rails I have start to rust
Deep down I know it, I’ll always be the rusty train station
No one will ever try to wipe away my rust
They’ll only perceive me - as the odd looking rusty station- while waiting for the next train to come
Not pretty, not lovable, not even interesting
Just odd
just a little amateur poem written by me about always feeling like the rusty train station in life ‘cause i can’t take it anymore ��😸👍🏻
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poems-by-fredster · 1 year
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Gentle
I think Gentle is my favourite word. I love the way she sits on my tongue.
I love the way she knocks on my door and how I'll let her in. How she sees me at my worst and how she smiles kindly anyway.
I wish I was Gentle. I wish I was like her.
I told her I have all this love to give that I have nowhere to put.
Gentle told me to give it myself, but I wanted to give it away.
She asks me "Why not do both?"
So lately, I've been loving others, knowing Gentle will help it return.
She doesn't knock on my door anymore. I gave her a key.
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pinkdumbsluts · 1 year
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Untitled 20
I can no longer look in the mirror 
for even a second too long
as all that reflects back is the shell of who I ought to be 
not the vessel that carries me as i am. 
i'll drown myself in fabric
to hide this body i do not know
and people will always ask 
"what happened to that happy little girl?"
the burden of girlhood has broken her
as the expectations of feminity lay like a boulder on her chest,
she would rather be like Sisyphus 
then be crushed under the weight
of her coming womanhood.
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lennalefay · 2 years
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Under the lavender sky
I learn how it feels to long
The union of limb in pillow
Of pillow in phantom limb
A pang, sharp, persistent
Guarded, an empty belly
But you know me, I can’t sleep
I sit on the wrecked pier
The sun encroaches on the gulf
Flooding dawn with your color
And gods, it’s fucking beautiful
I swear if I dreamt hard enough
I’d ride its cirrus currents
Until I found your doorstep
I’d make it just in time
For one day ended, another began
In breakfasts and blessings
In kisses and languid breaths
In tea leaves and tarot cards
As the sun paints the sky in my yellow
A blanket over dawn in her bed
I’d beg for the currents to stay
To stay, stay, stay
Stay—
The gulf is quiet and still now
Stained glass in the chapel after prayer
But my ocean churns
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starryeyedco · 1 month
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Always searching like I never found
Always floating like I can’t see the ground
Always fighting like it’s the last round
Always want you to ride me like we in the dog pound
I kiss her goodbye and then I tell you lies
I wish I was bad but you know how I try
Put me out of this misery put me in a high
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alexicollins · 2 months
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Forbidden Fruit by Alexi Collins
March/21/'23
In your suffocating grasp, I bleed, I bleed,
Running down your fingers, down your arms, a crimson stream
Trickling off your elbows, onto earth's embrace,
I stain your skin with my lingering trace.
My scent draws a swarm, a frenzied flight,
Flies assail you in their relentless plight.
Your teeth tear into my flesh, ripping, gnashing,
Devouring me, consuming, ever-lasting.
Lost in the feast, I can't remember how it began,
Or if it'll ever end, how many years it'll span.
As you depart, my seeds remain, Embedded deep, a silent pain.
Gouged in your gums, stuck in your teeth,
Your tongue's futile attempts to dislodge can't bring relief.
You scratch, you pry, you gnaw, but in vain,
I'm entrenched within, a lingering pain.
And as the last remnants of my essence unfurl,
Upon the ground, where worms writhe and swirl,
I bleed, I bleed, in this endless cycle.
A women's refrain. An echoed scream sung,
In the cycle of consumption, we are one.
I wrote this a long time ago, I'm just kind of guessing the date. I've debated back and forth about posting it and thought why not?
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autumnrook · 3 months
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I sing songs even when I dont know the words 
I scream songs even when I dont know the words
I sing songs even when others are staring 
I scream the songs even when no one is staring 
I sing the songs when I feel the tears form
I scream the songs when the tears choke my voice
I sing the songs before they spill into the anger
I scream as the anger spills into me
I sing the songs for it was easier than to speak
I scream the songs for it was easier than to sing
I want to stop screaming the songs
Sorry, I'm frustrated about personal issues, and this is how I cope.
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crazypossumman · 10 months
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to know fear {a poem by r. h. stoker}
what is fear
if not the ache, the sting
of unclaimed eyes peering
through skin, muscle, bone?
if not the shiver that sprints
and dances on your bones,
like devils and ghouls in the night
gathered around a bountiful hunt?
if not the singular knowledge
of being prey?
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Pinned (Commissions) | Writing Masterlist | Kofi | Etsy  
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ryuji5 · 4 months
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As a kid, I dreamed of Dragons.
Large, terrifying, awe-inspiring dragons
As a kid, I dreamed of Dragons.
Noble, magnanimous, powerful dragons
As a kid, I dreamed of Dragons.
Ruinous, rambunctious, regal dragons
As a kid, I dreamed of Dragons.
I am no longer a kid
As an adult, I dream of Dragons.
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I sat down on the cold concrete while staring at the sky above me
I see all of the stars and other bright lights
I wonder
As I stare up into the sky
Just like me
Staring up with me
Wondering the same thing as me.
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cainscave · 5 months
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vou te amar igual a lottie ama a laura lee (mesmo depois que a laura morreu a anos, ela continua tendo alucinações com a laura e até deixando seu amigo morrer por conta da alucinação da garota que ela sempre amou)
eu vou te amar pra sempre, ser devota por você pela eternidade mesmo que você se vá meu coração vai pra sempre pertencer a você e apenas a você e quando eu estiver nas minhas piores fases sem você, eu irei te ver em todos os lindos e belos lugares e até dentro de mim, porque eu vou levar cada coisa que você me ensinou, cada pedaço seu que você me deu eu vou levar até o fim da minha vida e não irei me suicidar pois você não gostaria disso, eu viverei a minha vida por você mesmo que você tenha morrido por mim mas eu viverei a minha vida te amando até morrer e então te encontrar.
porquê amar não é apenas num único modo, lucidez e sensatez, existe algo mais lindo do que amar devotamente algo ou alguém que não está nem perto de você, existe e esse amor está dentro de mim até que eu te encontre
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poems-by-fredster · 1 year
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Nosebleed (in the Shower???)
It's like I've always said. You don't know true horror, until you've had a nosebleed in the shower.
Where the blood won't stop pouring whilst you're butt-fucking-naked, and you can't grab a tissue because your hands are smothered in shampoo.
So you just have to watch as more of the red pours out from your nose and onto the bottom of your bathtub, mixing with the suds of the soap.
As it does, you remind yourself it will be over soon. It has to be. But even when it is you find that you can still taste metal in your mouth.
And you still have no idea, why it happened or where it even came from in the first place.
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