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surrounded by the vastness of stars.
the mare silhouetted on a hilltop wishing,
waiting, she prays,

"O, nightingale
sweetly sing your solemn song.
send white butterflies adrift on moonbeams,
so he feels my longing in the night.

his wings carved from distant dreams
Pegasus drifts through silver mists
into the moonlit meadow,
but dawns golden fingers
drift across the field
and the winged horse must flee...


...Pegasus weeps from distant stars
to his love waiting on the hill

and her whisper drifts to the heavens

a hush held still in the lullaby of all distant hearts.
the moon is a whisper
on my bedroom wall,
she's ten times louder in my head

her name is a tide
it pulls,
it tugs,
it etches itself
on the inside of my eyelids.

every blink is a memory i didn't ask for
her laugh-
uninvited
but welcome
always

the bed is too big
for one body and this much longing
some nights
sleep forgets me
other nights
she replaces it
i hope she knows how much she makes me spiral, ive never wrote poetry. ever. this is new, because of her.

date wrote: 19/6/25
I’m running out of words to write,
But it’s not because I’m out of ideas.
I talk to you in poetry,
Each message containing a memorable line,
One that I could paste here,
But feels too personal- too real to record.

But I’m still here,
The Sean you fell for,
The Sean you can’t stop falling for.
I’m just adapting,
Learning to say the things I want to say,
Instead of posting them.
 Jun 21 Rob Rutledge
Pri
I bite
 Jun 21 Rob Rutledge
Pri
I bite.
Not with teeth.
with silence,
with sharp glances,
with walls built higher than your reach.

I’m not cruel.
I’m just tired
of being kind first
and torn apart second.

You call it attitude.
I call it armor.
Because being soft
never saved me.
It only made the fall hurt more.

So I speak less now.
Agree less.
Trust less.
I pull away before someone has the chance
to walk out first.

It’s not that I don’t want love.
I’ve learned that even “I care about you”
can come with conditions.
Even soft hands
can leave bruises
you can’t see.

I bite
because once,
I didn’t.
And it nearly broke me.
(inspired by Isle of Dogs)
I ended up at the wrong time,
in the wrong place,
carrying a dead flashlight
that instead of shining,
offered me an elusive shape—
a spectacle of shadows.

What was a hand
became a dog barking on the wall,
or a ghost-rabbit
vanishing into nothingness.

My rational “I” still asks why,
and I have no answer.
I just smile with sadness:
that was the script,
that had to happen.

Bittersweet medicine,
already swallowed,
the side effects dissolved.
And I boarded another train.

Writing?
I only wanted an ordinary life,
with some humor
and a pinch of self-irony.

Saturn joined,
Saturn divided,
at 8:18 a.m.

Maybe we humans
don’t have the stillness
to break free from the pattern
of silver rings
made of dust and ice,
imposed by an ego.

Maybe we prefer
the safety of the shadow,
ice melts in daylight.

My story:
a new-old flat,
my imperfect poems…
Really?
For this, I was made?

I’m not a poet.
I’m a living voice,
taming incomprehension
convincing myself
that dawn is near,
and I’m strong enough to rise,
not looking anymore
for cold mirrors.
This poem is my way of catching a moment when something that once felt real and meaningful slowly turns into just a shadow, a projection, an illusion. I wanted to show how reality can sometimes feel surreal, and how easy it is to mistake a reflection for the real thing, like in Plato’s cave. We often fall for false impressions. The image of the hand’s shadow on the wall becoming a barking dog or a disappearing rabbit is my way of speaking about disappointment and coming to terms with what happened.
For me, every poem is also like a diary, a way of keeping things I do not want, or maybe cannot, forget. I try to leave space for different interpretations, but what matters most to me always stays hidden underneath. To me, the hand in the poem has already become a shadow. And somehow, even if it makes no sense, the shadow still casts another one. It feels like a game of broken telephone with consciousness. Scattered pieces only make sense to me as a whole.
Staring at a block button
Like it holds the secrets I crave
Like it offers my heart freedom,
Like it gives my mind escape.

My fingers just won't press it
So odd that now I hesitate
I've pressed it a million times before
In my mind it's what I have to do,
My heart just doesnt want to participate.

But she needs to.
She has never led me right
It's time she does retire
She is always late
And keeps everything on a wire.

That's not how we're living anymore
We are going one foot in front of the other,
I can't rest at closed doors anymore
It's my own light that I smother.

I desperately don't want to say goodbye
But I cannot be your friend
You said true love never goes away
It morphs but never ends.

I can't have you around me
I hope things are different everyday
I can't hold on to what's not there
I have to unlearn how to care.

I sound like a broken record-
My writing even worse
If I have you near me
I'll never get out of the "I miss you" curse.

Missing isn't living
And it hurts me every hour
I've reread every word
And still my feelings aren't sour.

I really want to hate you
So I could just slam the door in your face
But I can't find the justification
And I'd never hurt you on purpose, just in case.

You said that real love never leaves
That it will stay with me forever
Well I'm sitting here as it drips out my eyes
Wishing I never felt it, ever.
That's it
That's all I'll say
I no longer give myself permission to wish for things I'll never be able to fix
You're quiet thunder
I hold storms behind my teeth
Still you heard the rain
If the sun never shines again,
And these clouds never clear?
Well, I've always loved the rain
And someone else will love it here.
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