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#my poem
juneepoetryx · 29 minutes ago
“loving her has never been easy
her dark crevices filled with
the wounds of life
her delicate soul
tinged with sorrow
but loving her,
loving her has made
every flower bloom with such vibrancy
every star shine brighter
and brought color
to such a dull life.
loving her brought me to life
i ache to hear her heavenly laugh
and feel her body intertwined with mine
for eternity.
For me there is no other,
her life was meant for me
as mine was meant for hers.”
- untitled // j.a.
0 notes
lonelyl0ve007 · 30 minutes ago
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Your face once so full of life now before me gaunt and withered. I still take it between my hands like we were back in those early days. I swipe away your tears with my thumbs. Yours to weak to even catch mine.
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I hold your bony body gently to not hurt your fragile form, almost as broken as my shattering heart. I smiled showing you the wonders of the world just to say we had. I could lift and carry you bridal style for the wedding that never came to pass.
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Such bright eyes, they always gave you away. So sharp and quick, too smart for your own good. I smiled warmly thinking of the trouble those fox eyes would always get us into. You looked up to me much slower now, bright whites now yellow and pained.
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I know. Its okay. Im here. I cooed down softly as you body aged you almost back to a child in needs. So much yes so little time had passed. It was time to let go. Not you, you had been ready with open arms.
I love you, my sweet.
Chapped lips rough as I kissed you. The taste of sickness familiar to me now. I kissed your weathered cheeks so discoloured and hollow. I kissed your brow so heavy now light. I heard your last breath with closed eyes. Be free my love.
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perdituspoems · an hour ago
Chilled to the Bone
Chilled to the bone this little bird doesn’t seek a warmer land staying home forgoing the sun, sea and sand
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View On WordPress
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practicingmypoetry · an hour ago
We Should Stop Talking (Not from WTP)
We should stop talking.
Because when we talk,
My mind is flooded with memories
Of similar topics,
But different circumstances between us.
All I can think is
“We’ve been here before”
But I can’t reply the same way I used to,
Even though I want to
So badly.
And it doesn’t help
That you’re still the most incredible person
In the world.
It doesn’t help
That you still want to be there for me.
It doesn’t help
That you
Are you.
So we should stop talking,
Because if we keep going like this,
I’ll end up confessing to you
All over again,
But it won’t go as well
As last time.
So let’s end it now.
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loveeepoem · an hour ago
The moment a star is born, the fog breaks up because a new god has entered the world. It is not destruction at all, but your birth. It is the same with people who have left you once. Don't let them reappear in your life. You went through the rain and got burned by the lava without them. You're allowed anything. Just love yourself.
— Anna Pierce, My own novel
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swaghumanbiscuitduck · an hour ago
Those words
Repeat those words of yours
Those I appreciated hearing to
Those I desired never to stop
Though... I made a mistake
When time came, they changed
When time came, they hurt
So, when we tried to repair it all
It was too late, for us to hear them
It was too late, to pronounce them
Cause after all that repetition...
They slipped our thoughts
They slipped our feelings
They lost their meaning
Sincerely, your love.
0 notes
a-garbage-fire · an hour ago
The Gardener
Soft, gentle, youthful blooms,
now crinkled and tattered and bent,
will flourish in the greenhouse,
at least, twas the intent.
For in this house there lived a man
who donned a heavy boot.
Instilling fear when angered
and trampling the shoots.
He’d buy expensive soil
and make tall windows for the sun,
but despite his lavish expenses,
the damage had been done.
He never learned that anger is no way to raise a sprout.
His roaring voice and fighting words will only tear them down.
but plants, they are resilient
and will grow a thicker stem,
this growth, not for the gardener.
this growth, instead, for them.
My stem, now rough and crooked,
protects from those like him.
I’m stronger than I should be.
I built myself up limb by limb.
And though the sound of footfalls still sends shivers down my spine,
the gardener has no hold on me
because the strength I have is mine.
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un-poetryy · an hour ago
Love ‘n’ Jokes
Isn’t love a funny thing?
It make you and break you all within seconds.
- Kiran
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herlittlebook · an hour ago
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Is this part of the plan?
Am I going to survive what’s next?
I have come so far and been through so much,
And by such strength have I remained.
Is he the one intended for me to love forever,
Or will I lose him like the rest?
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semicolonsoliloquy · an hour ago
Lay down my porcelain skull, 
my rotting brain, 
grey-matter grapefruit 
getting softer, stranger.
Settle this black-beaked cloud of flies,
their harrowed feast.
My mind weeps onto sticky fingers
as I claw the rind back, 
searching for something to love.
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nestapaksara21 · an hour ago
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Namamu pernah menjadi candu
yang membawaku pada rindu
sampai pada titik tujumu
kau hempaskan aku seperti debu
0 notes
mydaysdaily · an hour ago
April 19, 2021
I don’t often say this
But she was too intense.
Maybe because it was about nothing important
And she was blowing it out of proportion,
Being out rightly rude, tyrannical.
There was no need
And she had no right.
I don’t want to deal with it again
But I know it’s back in a few days.
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writingbykrystal · an hour ago
Put some makeup on your face
All dressed up in gowns of lace
Belladonna in your eyes
Deadly nightshade, a woman dies
Oleander is a pretty sight
Lovely leaves, all pink and bright
Eat a leaf, a silly treat
Suddenly, you're six feet deep
White snakeroot, poison by mistake
Hidden in the food you make
A cow eats these deadly leaves
Distraught, your family sadly grieves
Foxglove has a lovely look
Try to press it in a book
Enticed by the plant she's eating
Soon the child's heart stops beating
Water hemlock looks like another
Queen Anne's lace, bring home to mother
Cook it and you serve it up
The last time you will ever sup
Yew is such a useful wood
Makes a bow, strong and good
Berries look so sweet and red
Eat them and you'll wind up dead
Datura, pointy, spiny leaves
Gives you visions no one believes
But have some more, to wind them up
Take too much, you won't get up
Apples, cherries, peaches too
Carry inside them harm to you
Grind the pits and seeds within
Your victim swallows, you start to grin
Poisons, poisons everywhere
Proceed with caution, have some care
For in these plants, small, round or wide
Deadly secrets seem to hide
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de-morte · 2 hours ago
You have to stop overestimating your failures and underestimating your powers.
Channing H.M
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de-morte · 2 hours ago
Pouring unto me from that demoniacal brink, breathing musk-rose fragrances as if  bedizening a grandeur of doom from my inhuman dearth. I, now am a desolation of canvas in your eyes, a canvas with solitary scapes, bleeding sadistic hallucinations of aspersing lemures.
Channing H. M, The Monochrome of Darkness
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letterstonobodyxx · 2 hours ago
nobody’s type
Dear reader,
I am not her type. I fear I’m nobody's “type”, more of an acquired taste, an exception made in despite of rather than because. Her celebrity crushes bear no resemblance to me. Maybe I look too far into this, maybe I make problems where there are none. But I am seeking the unattainable nonetheless. Maybe she would take a moment longer to look away, smile just that much more when she saw me, if I were to wear my hair short and dark as molasses. If the structure of my jaw and cheekbones were more pronounced, if I were slender and angular, if I were taller, if my eyes hung lazily and my resting expression was one of intimidation. If I were calm and cool with the ease of someone who commands authority without speaking a word. If I were bad for her, if I stood her up and left her only to return weeks later. Maybe the conflict would be more interesting, maybe I bore her. Because I am none of these things, I am every opposite. I am the antagonist. My features are fair, the lines of my body curved, my eyes rounded and eager to please. I love her the way I believe love is to be conducted, with compassion, and empathy, and warmth. We are two sides of a scale, though I fear the differences are more barrier than balance. 
Eternally yours,
Astrid xx
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varisihminen · 2 hours ago
If you want my two cents,
I think limericks make no sense.
I whinged and I whined,
Only to find,
That I had made one at my own expense
What started in the past tense
Sits now on a sort of “fence”
Now suddenly bent
To the present
Without excuse or  recompense
If you think that this joke is bad
You’d make me feel somewhat sad
‘Cause I put in the time
To make up this rhyme
Umm.. uh… Trinidad. 
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