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#spilled poem
pollosky-in-blue · 2 days ago
Sometimes is enough for one wish.
And a walk from the corner
And back under the trees and light
Is often enough for a thought to perish
And a million others to be born
From their graves
The way shells explode
Under the hills of tin men and grass
Long after the blood-bath is but an anecdote
A story for a hot summer's evening on the porch
Or a tale told on idle winters
Through the dislodged teeth of the old ones.
- pollosky-in-blue
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Cold War Crisis
Agent Kursk was decommissioned While on duty to intercept a cipher
The border beyond the heartland Hid many sentiments under our noses
The dogs shall chase after them A trail lukewarm enough to trace
We found some crumpled up secrets More words to read between the lines
But none of which could say the truth About what you really wanted to say
Of all the things we could hide Why did we keep ourselves In a state of secrecy
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wanderingworlds · 10 hours ago
I still love you,
My words.
I think about you often,
And I can’t wait to give you more of me.
But I don’t have the energy right now,
I hope I will again soon.
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btpoetry · a month ago
Fictional love.
“No, you can’t leave me,” She said to him as he was fading away slowly.
He wistfully smiled down at her. “I was never here to begin with.”
And as they danced for the last time under the stars, he spun her around but when she turned back he was gone.
Back to the pages in her book, and the little space in her mind where he will always reside.
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modern-wilde · 3 months ago
“Book collecting is an obsession, an occupation, a disease, an addiction, a fascination, an absurdity, a fate. It is not a hobby. Those who do it must do it. Those who do not do it, think of it as a cousin of stamp collecting, a sister of the trophy cabinet, bastard of a sound bank account and a weak mind.” ― Jeanette Winterson
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dame-nostalgique · 9 days ago
Noticing the strange passing of life on a gloomy October day. Like I don't have a single photo of me as a teenager, I don't even know how I looked at 15, but I'm still ashamed. I was the only one not crying at my high school graduation, I already moved on when I was still in the building. I burned all of my adolescent's diaries at a family bonfire. I let everything pass me, it's like watching shiny glass beads in a kaleidoscope, never stopping, never settling, never accepting. My heart breaks every single day and I don't even remember why. I write my story with one hand but I tear the pages out with another. A shadow of existence while constantly fleeing from your younger self. Evenings are getting darker.
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iambrillyant · 7 months ago
“you’ve remained soft when you’ve been given every reason not to. exercised patience when you’ve had the right to demand more. loved when the ones you loved weren’t deserving of your warmth. you’ve forgotten about you too often and maybe it’s time to channel that energy back home.”
— iambrillyant
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goldenangelll · 2 months ago
i’ll never admit how badly i want to be wanted. not out loud, at least. i read books and poetry, and i watch films, all about the kind of love that takes your breath away. i want someone to love me. i want someone to wrap their arms around me, to play with my hair, to rub my back. i want to be wanted. i want to be someone’s number one person, their favorite. i want to be the first person they want to tell their good news to. and i can never admit it because if i did, i’d have to admit that i’m terrified i won’t ever be.
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zynhamus · 15 days ago
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düşlerde olanın,
akılda kalanın yitip gitmesine kıyamamak belkide...
Geri dönüp baktığında,
ardında bıraktıklarıyla göz göze,
yürek yüreğe gelme bahsi.....
Mehmet Deveci
12.10.2021 11:50 #newsharing
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snsproductions · 4 months ago
I'm withering.
You have all the power
To water these flowers
And keep my attention
Focused and pure,
Like studying on Adderall,
But day by day
I ebb away
Bit by bit,
Spitting bitterness
Like arsenic
Onto this dynamic
And wondering
Just how long
I’ll be anchored
In your harbor.
I don’t ask for much.
A little attention,
A mention,
A concentrated effort
For deeper conversation,
But the small talk
Is killing me slowly,
Making the boulder in my throat
Ache for closeness.
We are here,
Here and now.
I’m living like there’s no tomorrow -
Because there isn’t one.
I think of you and pop the top
Of my valiant Valium,
Willing sleep
To whisk me away
To the land of unconsciousness.
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melloncolliegalaxies · 7 months ago
if you asked me who i am,
i think i'd play you sad songs
i think i'd rather write you poetry
and ask you if you ate your dinner
or how you are
and if nothing's feeling easy,
i'd let you speak of every part.
i think i'd show you suns setting
and suns rising
and stars overhead
and i'd ask you what you're thinking
and if you like all of this.
if you asked me who i am,
i think i'd sit in silence
and wince at every mirror
or never pick a flower
to never watch it wither
or love each and every animal
but still regret my dinner.
i think i'd rather tell you
how nice it is
to see you thrive
and how nice it is
that you're alive.
i think i'd rather ask you
how you feel when i'm there
and what it's like when i'm gone,
i could say what i think,
but i'm sure i'd be wrong.
- "if you asked me who i am"
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boutiquepoetry · a year ago
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by @atticuspoetry
BUY THE PRINTABLE HERE - Download + Print in from home!
#poetry #instagrampoem #poet #poetrycommunity #poem #writer
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dionyrtal · 4 months ago
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art by monet, poem by dion anja
[buy me a coffee for support]
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anotherlxve · a month ago
It took me so much strength to open up my heart and let you in. And now that I finally did, I notice you pulling away from me. Just when I get attached to you, you don’t want me anymore. And this is, yet again, another reason for me to never open up my precious heart for some sweet words from a guy. Even when I think this one might be different.
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