I write about you
I think about you, sometimes you make my head spin
I see what you do, I see how you're kind, I see how you treat yourself too
Sometimes you make me worry
What if you're not here for as long as I'm here?
I'd lose myself if you were gone, I fear
-lovelikeaflood
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"how are you?" is such a selfless, human thing to say. like, it's just a greeting for most people, but it's !! really, you care about my day? you care enough to ask how i am? with no regards to how your feeling? like, yes i will answer and tell you about the homework i have to do and how it's raining, but i love it, it's my favorite weather, so isn't it great? and maybe you say oh, i'm not a big fan of rain, but i'm glad you're enjoying it! or maybe you say oh, i love rain too! but, regardless, i get to ask how you are next. i get to listen to you tell me how you've been living your day thus far, and isn't that just incredible? that we can have an interaction like this with so many people a day? that we can ask everyday and still get a different answer? that society has just decided that a good way to greet somebody is by giving them time to tell you about their life right now? in this moment, i am granted a little bit of your story and it's incredible.
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I always loved being a host, because I thought it meant that people never had enough of me, that I always had more to give.
I grew addicted to the feeling of emptying myself so I would have more space to fill with their love, their smiles, their gifts back.
It wasn’t until the parasites sucked me dry that I realized how quickly they latch on,
and how quickly they move on.
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true, but i want to ride with you on dragonback and eat only cake, and oh how i love being a woman, and if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more, and please tell her that i will never forget the sound of her voice calling my name, and please let her know that she lives in my heart, and everywhere i go i see her face, and that grief and love are sisters, and Please Linger Near The Door and please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it, and please don’t ever become a stranger, your braids like a pattern, come live with me and we could be pirates and then you won’t have to cry, and you never have any friends later on like the ones you have when you’re twelve, jesus, does anyone? and i loved you and you love me the same, the rest is just confetti. and i cant carry it for you but i can carry you , and a childhood dotted with bodies. “let them go, let them be ghosts.” “no,” i said. “make them stay. make them stone.”
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I could fill pages upon pages with how much I love that girl
But now...
The pages are only filled with my tears
Writing how lost I've been
Losing a friend
Death did not become of her
But she's dead to me...
All these years I've been trying to make peace with it
Then social media reminds me
And the wounds are cut open again
To play fiddle with my heart strings
Daring me to reach out to no avail
She's never there...
For me to say the least
But I love her
It won't go away
It follows me every where
Then sneaks up on me when I least expect it
This feeling is hectic
-Jeroberts
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My current favorite platonic love poem:
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what a marvelous thing it is, to be loved
enveloped in safety
to know that you are closely cherished
two souls, spiraling around each other in holy friendship
a sisterhood with one not blood
but kindred in spirit
the emerald to a ruby
the sunlight to a leaf
the pebble to a river
raising each other’s mountains
a circle of trust
and deep affection
“shall we grow old together?”
“we shall.”
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I appreciate the souls who've entered my life when they needed to, and taught me valuable lessons.
The ones who have emotionally broken me and the ones who've superglued my heart back together, the friends who abandoned me at my lowest and the friends who adopted me into their lives, the friends who i cried about and the friends i cried with.
Everyone i've encountered played a role so big to me, the days where i put on makeup remind me of the girls who teased my pimples and called me unattractive, when the sun shines brightly onto my skin reminds me of the people i now call my best friends.
I love everyone who i've crossed paths with.
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..-. .-. .. . -. -.. ... .... .. .--. | friendship | dosti
she loves me like it’s nothing
like it costs her nothing at all
as if i’m not the ruined creature i see reflected in her eyes when she looks my way.
she has seen me snarling, clawing and scratching as i struggle for air.
still she leans in as i rest my head on her shoulder
as if she doesn’t see the blood from my cannibalised lips dripping from my canines.
she hugs me as if she sees a teddy bear when she sees me rather than the thing i know myself to be.
she knows. how?
he texts me that he misses me.
i’m a terrible friend.
my voice is hoarse when i speak.
his words create paintings, mine don’t make a mark.
my silence is more notable than my presence.
he still misses me. how?
in the first few days i knew him he told me he loves me.
love?
he said he saw something beautiful. something handsome. someone worthy.
i could only see fractals in the water, the broken image reflected back to me. something shattered stared into my eyes.
a puzzle with pieces askew.
he saw something within me. how?
she gave me my first nickname.
one only she could use.
something to be called by, someone to belong to.
i felt reborn.
she created somebody. a person i could not forge. how?
in a chorus, i hear their screams as they shout their love.
my hands cover my ears
i cannot hear them over my own.
date of publication: saturday 23rd march 2024. original poem by dmitri. each stanza is dedicated to a different friend - stanza 1: KC, stanza 2: apollo, stanza 3: andry, stanza 4: A
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Your tight hugs,
emanating warmth from your heart.
Your mysterious soul,
intriguing like a work of art.
Your fascinating flaws,
makes you the admirable being that sets you apart.
Your reassuring presence,
unearths a friend from a gloomy rut.
Thank you for being you.
i wanted to share this poem that i wrote for a friend 🖋️✨ i love handwritten letters and writing poems for my loved ones. it’s certainly a lost art 🤎
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"They say our friendship won’t last forever
And the world will get in between,
But they don't know the fact,
That you're the world for me."
-- inertia m.
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there's something intimate about making something from scratch - kneading & pulling & allowing aromatic spices of incense & barks that are specially handcrafted & picked - it feels like what building a home is. flour & salt; furniture & warmth. ginger & clove; friends & family. lemon & pepper; settling down. i want to be the kind of person who invites the neighbors' kids over for a treat. i want to grasp onto something with both hands and never let go - steadfast & ready & full of love. i want to teach children how to do asl & invite everyone over for potluck parties. i wanna build a home & a family that's full of fireplace comfortability & forehead kiss affection. i want to bake how much i care into a pie for others to eat, so they can feel it. i want to use ingredients to tell what i mean when the words aren't there. i want to hug & hold & laugh & breathe. i want to be unafraid. i want to live.
| k. - @nosebleedclub feb viii. ginger and clove
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you would’ve liked this place
you would’ve liked this place.
it reminds me of that spot by the river
where we sat on the picnic table
and stared at the green water
and you offered me your right earbud
like it was a cigarette.
you would’ve liked this place.
a place that no one else really knows
so you could sit there and think for hours
until the sun eventually rose
you’d just need to stick your notebook in your waistband
or hold it between your teeth
as you went
rung
by
rung
to the top
before leaning up against the splintered wood
and writing the saddest poems i’ve ever heard
in your childish, near-comical handwriting.
you would’ve liked this place.
though it’s a bit of a trek, too,
it’d be hard to grow weary
when we always wore the same shoes
and besides
you told me you loved to take walks
on the same route
seeing the same things
arriving at the same destination
the lost train of thought metro station.
you would’ve liked this place.
the constellations being the only indication of where you are
in the middle of nowhere
hoisted up on a raised platform
so if you ever lost your way
you could pluck the north star out of the berry bush night sky
and it would guide you back like a compass
but then again,
you always resented the place you called home.
yes.
we would’ve liked this place.
-x.o. fever
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Bliss
They say ignorance is bliss
Unless you're the one being ignored
Feels like falling into an abyss
Unfortunately, it's nothing new
Nothing to reminence
They say their friends
But they were the first
Ignored all your extends
Until you couldn't anymore
All you can do is pretend
<\3
~Soul
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Strangers forever
I thought you and me are for a lifetime
Two stars in the night sky always together
Getting in trouble, living in our own little world, not caring about what they'd say
Staying up late night, talking about the world and beyond, they'll tell us to shut up but we never listened
They all wanted what we had;
A light at the end of the mist;
A hand to lift you from you from the darkness;
Someone who stays with you till your last breath
But last night I called you, you said you couldn't recognise The person you promised to never forget
We live three blocks away, yet we never met no more
We pass by the same street but we never say hi no more
We can't even look into each other's eyes no more
We have become something that the other can't understand
Strayed away so long, that all the love is all gone
All the history we built together, all lost, all forgotten
Two stars in the night sky who slowly drifted apart
I thought you and me were for a lifetime
How did we become strangers overnight ?
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