Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 1259° 
Lance Remir
I hate you
When you smiled, I smiled
I wanted you to be happy

I hate you
When you were successful, I cheered
I always believed in you

I hate you
When you're dressed up, I gasp 
I am taken by you yet again

I hate you
When you grew, I admired
I knew you were meant for more

I hate you
When you moved on, I stayed
I am always waiting for you

I hate you
When you faded away, I cried
I will only be a memory to you

I hate you
When you were in my life, I knew
I truly did love you 

I hate you
Despite everything, I begged 
That I could actually hate you
 777° 
Heavy Hearted
The two years that you’ve known me, have made up the decade’s end ,
Of ten years in which I’ve faught to skip
Obsessed with my past’s relationship-
To retain the hope, know dobtlessness’s equipped
To embrace thyself, and to be true
When we begin to lose our grip,
Sketching the silhouetted shadow’s tip,

I'll leave here.
   I leave behind.
        I'll leave today-

& wont return.

You know these things about who I am, that no one else might understand
From

When you go so far to facetiously thank-  what you know to seek forgiveness for
Your once full word, now I know is blank
As gratitude we both deplore.
All the cop outs and shifting blame
How we might grow up and blow away once again?
Us tortured youths, from diamond minds
Extrapolate, whatever, we may find
Worthile exchanging for our time.
Something about All I've absorbed
Is why your kiss is now abhorred
All I've precieved against my will
Ive done so by running up that hill.
As if I could make a deal with God,
and get him to change our places-
I'd be running up that road
Running
Running up that building

With no problems.
To Dr. Ariel Graff,
Someone I once thought of as a friend, as brief and nieve as that was, I still wish he were. Written the second last time I was in his house, when I finally realized.
 625° 
Dom
Form fitted,
Perfectly shaped
Given to you as a gift,
Nestled in your Pandora’s box
A sealed kiss, lock and key,
Please don’t shatter,
Fragile, and temperamental
I need it not, but to see you
Beautiful as you are
Like Aphrodite painted in stars.
Please protect my heart.
it's the best gift I could ever give
 595° 
Piyush
Hope is a lie,
It stays within a die.
No one sees it,
No one needs it,
Yet you feel it.
Your wounds plead it,
But you just bleed it.
Hide it, confide it,
Still, you seed it—
Cause you need it.

Don’t disturb her,
Don’t absorb her,
You don’t deserve her.
You hear it,
You bear it.
Don’t say it,
Just obey it.

You rely on others,
You cut your own feathers.
A lie it is,
Yeah, that’s all it is.
You want it—
But you already have it.
 344° 
Cadmus
🎭

I
miss
the
time
when
my
smiles
were
real.

👺
This piece reflects the quiet resilience that grows in the shadow of sadness. It’s a reminder that even the faintest hope has the power to restore the sincerity of a smile.
 285° 
Nick Moore
Down
Down,
Through the sulfurous haze,
Dante stumbled,
Lost in a
Fiery
Maze

Is this hell or a hammer film set
He asked himself,
Grinning with regret

A demon
Dressed in tattered lace,
With
Fangs and makeup,
A boneyard
Face

"Welcome to the pit, where
Sin abide
And
Dracula's got a VIP ride

The first circle
Fog and gloom
Looking for a friendly face,
I hope to find one soon

Next the gluttons,
Oh what a feast,
A banquet of souls
That never ceased

The brimstone smoked,
And ghosts of
Sinners,
Just happily joked
"Is this hell or a cryptic comedy?"
Dante laughed, lost in absurdity

The third,
greedy souls did cry,
Stuck in the mud,
Can't buy a thing
To
Satisfy

The Sinners dined in darkness,
Yet they slept
Until Dante shouted
"This is the wrong set"

So down to the deepest depths,
Where bat's flapped
And twisted,
Dante's glasses
Got slightly
Misted

But in the end
Dante found a seat,
In hells own cinema
Complete with a
Treat

A demon with a smile,
Made popcorn pop
And said
"You're in for a shock"

Dante sat back with his eternal snack,
And watched
As the credits rolled
"I'm never coming back"
 208° 
Kara Palais
Velvet echoes in these faded places,
Plastic smiles on porcelain faces.
Whiskey tears in crystal glasses,
Dead-eyed queens and faded masses.
And it’s eerie, but oh, it’s sweet;
My dying dreams feel most complete.
Masking my hurt behind the glamour,
No more dawn and no forever.
Hard to voice, too numb to break,
I'm dancing in circles putting the F in ache…
 196° 
William A Poppen
She asked me
If I had ever been
In love

Then I
Realized that I
Had never not been
In love

I realized
I  wanted
Nothing  
Other than love

I think there is
Only one
Off-ramp
From the journey
Of love

That off-ramp
Is judgment

A critical heart
Combined with
A critical eye
Fills one with
The opposite
Of love—judgment

Judgment colors
The mind with
Negativity

Until the sin of
Judgment
Is displaced
By a lust
For love,
One will not find peace

When love invades
One’s heart
The body finds peace

When love is abundant
And bountiful
There is no fear
Of wasting love
Nor spilling love
For love can grow
Anywhere

So am I
In love?

Yes, I am
In love
Excessively
Wastefully and Willingly
love, questions, judgment
 155° 
Mario Benedetti
Digamos que te alejas definitivamente
hacia el pozo de olvido que prefieres,
pero la mejor parte de tu espacio,
en realidad la única constante de tu espacio,
quedará para siempre en mí, doliente,
persuadida, frustrada, silenciosa,
quedará en mí tu corazón inerte y sustancial,
tu corazón de una promesa única
en mí que estoy enteramente solo
sobreviviéndote.

Después de ese dolor redondo y eficaz,
pacientemente agrio, de invencible ternura,
ya no importa que use tu insoportable ausencia
ni que me atreva a preguntar si cabes
como siempre en una palabra.

Lo cierto es que ahora ya no estás en mi noche
desgarradoramente idéntica a las otras
que repetí buscándote, rodeándote.
Hay solamente un eco irremediable
de mi voz como niño, esa que no sabía.

Ahora qué miedo inútil, qué vergüenza
no tener oración para morder,
no tener fe para clavar las uñas,
no tener nada más que la noche,
saber que Dios se muere, se resbala,
que Dios retrocede con los brazos cerrados,
con los labios cerrados, con la niebla,
como un campanario atrozmente en ruinas
que desandara siglos de ceniza.

Es tarde. Sin embargo yo daría
todos los juramentos y las lluvias,
las paredes con insultos y mimos,
las ventanas de invierno, el mar a veces,
por no tener tu corazón en mí,
tu corazón inevitable y doloroso
en mí que estoy enteramente solo
sobreviviéndote.
 151° 
onlylovepoetry
Incompossible

<>

  not mutually possible:
INCONSISTENT, INCOMPATIBLE

<>

inconsistent, yes,
incompatible, never

we have lived and loved
each other since
a singular moment
in grade school

profound!
(what a perfect compositional word!)
friendship, intuitively embraced,
circumstances dictated an
on/off interspersed
coexistence decades in length,
a hit or miss geographical
distancing,
thst technology overcame
with no evaporative loss
of 
sensational connectivity
across great times and
greater distances

we trialed and
errored our landlines,
for a time,
we lived together,
then nearby,
with other spouses, who knew
and tolerated, our exceptional
to the rules of coexistences,
we were closer than close,
the space between us was of wafer size, nearly invisible to the naked eyes of others, but unchanging
as much as it was unique and
uncharted
periods of absence of years measurable
and the first conversation
began exactly where the long ago prior had ceased

never fully accepted,
surely not ever
fully
tolerated + understood,
we stumbled upon a word,

incompossible

that captured the
drama, the hopefulness,
the hopelessness of
our separated conjoining
as a summary perfect
of us

a true tale,
a novel of pro-found
loss and gain
that cannot be be told
or totaled,
a sum of summary,
an unavowed marriage of
souls with no legality,

and yet

by its very in-completed nature,
it was perfected by it's very unending undefinable defiance
of definition:
we made the
incompossible,
possible,
the incompatible,
patible,
unfounded by circumstances,
unbounded in our intuition,
we yet live in a hopeful
state of unfulfilled totality of


almost fufillment
advis any typos pleade
 141° 
my soul
I don't know you yet,
and I'm already falling in love.

I've thought about expressing you,
but I don't have time,
I'm describing you in verse.

I spent 100 letters on your eyes,
58 on your hair,
and 76 on your smile.

Let's not even talk about your intelligence,
charisma, and tenderness.

I write and describe you,
and then I remember.

That each verse,
is a manifesto,
for the universe.
I AM whatever you say I AM
If wasn't then why would I say I AM
I AM whatever I say I AM!
If I wasn't why would I say I AM!
Eminem with the Michael twist
 116° 
lauren
I’ve seen things I can’t unsee.
I’ve held lives together
with shaking hands and quiet hope.
And I’ve walked away wondering
if I was ever really seen at all.

But here’s the logic they forget to teach:

Feeling deeply
isn’t weakness.
It’s data.
It’s memory.
It’s proof
that the world still touches you
when it tries to make you numb.

And maybe I’ll never solve the full equation.
Maybe the variables keep shifting.
But here’s what I know:

I would rather stay soft
and confused,
and tired,
and real—

than become sharp and certain
and alone.
 109° 
ghostsonpaper
You used to be the place
Where I’d unravel all my sins
Now I don’t know where to start
Because I don’t know where you end
 105° 
Dianali
What an irony—
an over-prepared traveller,
first at check-in,
practically airport-camper—
sprinting, breathless,
for the only flight
that truly matters.
Bring what you can—
No luggage claim planned
..
 102° 
T
Remember when I asked you for space?
But what I really wanted was you.
7 nights before,
You kissed me 3 times,
Under the purple moon.
Your eyes filled with tears
And mine did too.
We left it all in the past,
When we said goodbye too soon.
 91° 
Neil Mcpake
A woman still feels beauty even without seeing her reflection.
This poems about the ugly nature of the beast and knowing beauty is only skin deep. So don't let people get you down be proud of yourself no matter who you are.
 87° 
Anais Vionet
Ok, there’s no jailbreak.
Make room for my innocent alter ego,
because there’s nothing to rebel against.

There are zero classes in my nascent,
year-long, Harvard master’s degree.
They call it ‘self directed study’
and like rockets have stages,
I’ll have ‘self paced modules.’

Am I suddenly at Oxford University?
They’re quite famous for that (no formal classes).
Or am I suddenly grown up and trusted?
I obviously don’t have it all figured out yet,
so I’ll just trust the process.

When I started that other school
(that shall not be named), my advisor
handed me a computer printout - a list
with something like 40 courses on it.
I thought, “Oh, my God,” but one by one,
year over year, I checked-off those courses
and walla! They handed me a diploma.
It was a process.

I understand, if you’re disappointed about the jailbreak, but there’ll
be coffee breaks, lunch breaks, study breaks, bathroom breaks
and more than a few self-directed dance breaks. So stick around.

“You know,” my therapist said, so very seriously, a few years ago,
“you keep laughing.”
.
.
I've Got the World on a String by Robin McKelle
****** Soul Picnic by Ledisi & Billy Childs
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 05/29/25:
Nascent: something that is just beginning.
 86° 
BloodOfSaints
Your words were small,
but they split me open-
quiet knives
dressed as truth.

I carried your words
like glass under skin-
invisible,
but cutting every time I moved.

Every syllable,
a small death I swallowed
just to stay close.

I bled in silence
so you wouldn’t hear
what you’d done.

I’ve never healed right
from the sound
of your voice
telling me
I wasn’t enough.
 80° 
Maddy
She listened as her eyes were going to close.
She longed to listen and see her fellow poets.
The New York soul needed to say Goodnight.
The City never sleeps but she does
Her pens and notebooks at her side on the night table
Pleasant dreams HP til next month
 71° 
Mounir Laroussi
World in chaos
life must go on
I planted tomatoes this morning
Haiku
 69° 
bleedingink
There are many words I wish I’d said,
while I still had the chance,
so many things we said we would do,
but we ended with only a glance.
 66° 
Julie Butler
I want to be the pillows
& not our
12 or 3
the window stays open
& It’s just
you and the sheet
the light always
goes out
just like I’ve got two thumbs
two bugs and a poem
too many
nights on our phones
maybe I’m too
dumb to say it
maybe just
desperate to
count sheep
I’m making up
colors for summer &
kissing you in
my sleep
 63° 
jon
I’ve never been good at asking for what I need

when I do, I fight myself every step of the way

it doesn’t seem to come out right—
or maybe I just don’t say the right words

maybe I’m not being seen or heard

is there a misunderstanding,
or do I feel misunderstood?

I don’t know—
maybe it’s all in my head

what I do know is that I don’t have the energy
to fight to be seen

maybe I’m just being dramatic

maybe I feel rejected

I don’t know if that’s sensitivity, or if my feelings are actually valid

I feel a missed bid for connection

I feel as if I am giving more than I am receiving

at times, it feels as if there’s no reciprocity

I desire, want, and need
to not feel so alone with another human being

I don’t know if I’m being irrational with this,
or dismissive to myself

I have an intense want to avoid and withdraw

I don’t know if I’m just being sensitive

I just wanted ten minutes of time, and it seems as if there’s no time at all

I expect myself from others
and let myself down when I don’t receive that

maybe I have unrealistic expectations of others

maybe I am asking for too much

maybe I am just being sensitive.
a thought process of feeling too much, and nothing at all  in the same breath.
 62° 
Michael Rudelich
As we know from
studying history,
there are four
essential
occupations—
rodeo clown,
shadow, pirate,
and facsimile,
and this revises

a previous
inventory which
included saint,
and saint is now
understood to be
simply an enhanced
facsimile of either
a rodeo clown,
shadow, or pirate.
 61° 
Barton D Smock
I don't sleep anymore.
I can almost see
god seeing
a child.
My stomach remembers every olive.
I have two phones
but no favorite.
I woke up to the rose colored glasses being welded to my head. The pain is excruciating and i can’t remember, but according to the paperwork i asked for this. I willingly walked into this life. I refuse to leave. Why would i? Each time reality catches up to crack my perfect view, it’s fixed without me ever having to even ask. I try to see through the break. Please don’t think your other life goes unnoticed. I’m more aware to the deep and dark reality than you’d think i am, but i prefer to ignore it when I’m around you too. Our world is so much better. We’re on a downward spiral, in every way imaginable. I have never felt more safe. I have never felt more cheated in all my life. Why couldn’t you forewarn me just how good deception would taste laced with your spit? Some type of heads up that i’d become addicted to the way we feel skin on skin. if we can make it down this far, why couldn’t we go up too? It wouldn’t be easy, all of this has been so difficult. You’d only have to want to.
 59° 
Kurt Philip Behm
Religion ...
*****
of the poor
And roadmap
of the forever
— lost

(1st Book Of Prayers: May, 2025)
 56° 
Nyssa Jacobsen
"Just breathe" you tell me
And yet you leave me breathless
Riddle me that, boy.
 54° 
Stardust
After every flower,
There's someone tending to it with care.
Through every storm and season's test,
Ensuring it survives,
And someday, blooms its best.
Or simply keeps on blooming,
Until there are no seasons
And no more storms to fight.
This poem is for my dear mother.
 52° 
Lostling
As I walk down the path well well-worn
I find myself
Missing the caress of droplets
On my arms,
The quiet murmur as they reconciled with the ground--
sha.... sha....
The cold puddles slipping into socks
And the memory of your umbrella
As we danced in the rain.
I love walking in the rain. It's hard to do that when everything has become so sheltered...
 51° 
somedumbbitch
I gasp, for breath...fading away, below you
helpless, beneath the deluge, of you.
Heat rises, and steams, a rosy flush,
into pale, cold cheeks...
as you waterfall above me,
and I turn my face up to you, in gratitude.

I am a dry...arid flower...
dominate me, with your downpour.
Keep me moaning, in little, breathless gasps...
drunk, on your deluge,
lusting, for the gentle, seething weight,
of your measured, eager touch...
so thirsty, for your rain,
as you slick parted lips, in waves.

Slowly...almost painfully
I ache, and writhe
as you pour over me,
and I gulp, hard,
against your hot embrace.

Mmmmm...lover...caress my bare skin
stream, relentlessly
across the peaks, and valleys
of my dripping, naked body.

I'm so wet, beneath you.
Every dance of droplets,
across these spreading hips,
and long, feminine legs...
every prolonged, whispering touch...
every sweet, steaming kiss,
steals my breath away,
and leaves me shuddering,
quivering,
groaning, helplessly,
beneath the lick of your warmth
across these rounded, fleshy cheeks.

I die, a little more, each time
you wash over me,
As I drink you in
...unashamed of the little pool,
you've got forming beneath my bare feet,
and tightly curled toes.

I'm...drenched,
tingling, from my head,
to my toes...
soaked, but satisfied,
beneath the incredible force, of you.

...I just can't get enough, of you.
Ode, to my showerhead 🚿❤️ #prorevenge
 49° 
Amanda Kay Burke
So easy for you being done with me
Tears cried for your name
Things begin looking up for a bit
They always end the same
That doesn't make much sense to me
Spin circles round and round
Scream at the top of my lungs that I love you
Your ears just ignore the sound
Like trapped inside a transparent box
Too incompetent to escape
Hands are bound with ropes
My mouth is covered in tape
To make peace with you is all I desire
Understand irrational fears
On surface situation is black-and-white
Beneath layers more complex than it appears
You think everything is so simple but to me it couldn't be more complicated
Next page