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Yuzuko 6d
I'm wonerding endlessly
Across a field of my past
My mind out of time and energy
Losing what was to last
Openly accepting my penalty
So here I was cast
To lose my every memory
Look At the first first leader of each line
Yuzuko 6d
Look into these eyes
Behind all the wicked lies
Take a peak at the soul inside
A river flows as this soul cry’s

Love is a art that can’t be mastered
And it turned this heart into disaster
A person trying to take care
Who got caught in loves affair

Love is winding maze
And holds the feeling of saved
But a simple memory
Turned into a person’s biggest enemy
So beware
Love can the be the greatest nightmare.
Love brings us together but can also do quite the opposite
Intricate labyrinth of neurons
Within whose web I dally, caught
Tangled synapse-bridged *****
Continuously recalling tallied thought

Laser-etched steel-plate memories
Deny wisdom so dearly sought
Reinforcing episodic-twisted realities
Revealing epiphany where is naught

Neuronal circuits staccato-fire rapidly
Tetanizing notions trauma-wrought
Spike-timing-dependent plasticity
Potentiating emotions distraught

Swearing healing by hippocampal oath
Promising surcease to wet-work hard-fought
Neurogenesis rebuilds hope for both
Amygdalan peace and neural-networked bio-robot
Hope this one wasn't too cerebral... 😉
Zelda 6d
Silence-spilled rooms,
and red high-high-heeled shoes
Shadows blooming in forgotten perfumes.
Curtains drifting like whispered thoughts,
she lies on a bed
watching morning break her—
dreams...
and unwelcome guests in her head...

Oh, darling—
there's no time for excuses,
flashbacks.
Something special in a hush.
There's no reason to ask for anything more...
Between Breathes.

Plastic tips tap-tap harsh on icy floors,
empty kitchen,
undone button-up shirt.
Her skin is exposed to the poetry.
The Art must suffer.
Be careful
not to let it leave a mark.

watch every fall from grace—
and she meets herself.

She is the moment just before,
a soft repose,
a breath withheld,
a breath set free.

She is
Between Breathes—
and she meets herself.

Oh darling—
there's no time...
Between Breathes—
and she meets herself.

Gasp.
July 1 2015
ash Jul 2
i came across this post today—
it asked me if i wondered
what would be the best place to leave my heart—
even if it's bits and pieces, like shells in the sand.

made a list for my own peace,
but here to share it, if you seek to leave a piece
of your own:

the sea, people claim, carries the tranquil
and provides the cool;

the empty temples and churches,
where your heart prays and reluctantly admits;

graveyards at night,
protected by those who left their own behind.

libraries and dusty old bookstores,
in between the pages and caskets of the used shores.

sun-dappled shades of yellow, green, and orange—
once settled, the purples and pinks of the similar hues.

gardens of thorns and flowers,
the sleeves of your last lover;
knots of the willow trees,
in winter blues and heated blooms,
risky texts during the night,
with strangers i met online,
in midst of late monsoon showers,
not to miss out the midnight hours.

a few bits i leave
in the misty mornings of the early summer,
the drenched evenings of the spring shimmer.

the company of my closest companions—
in the fur of a cat,
the nip of a bunny,
the smile of a pup,
sometimes in a sunset,
in the lush green of the forests,
often in the foil of the autumn trees.

mostly on my bed,
in my tear-filled, forsaken pillow,
and against the one i sleep so dearly.
plushies and teddies,
keepsakes of childhood memories.

with all those i've met so far,
and cookie crumbles at the footstep of my life—
for those who are welcome
and those who are not.

i have left, and leave, a lot more pieces.
i wonder if my heart is a cake-a-piece.
a bit old, mostly new- i keep on editing
what can i even do
Growth of flowers
in your hair
on a day
of mixed weather
it doesn't care,
brown eyes
are sunny
hair dripping
blondie, shivering
wet with showers,
A gentle delight,
A wrapped
warmth of towel
forecast.
A poem about the best girl-friend I had when I was 36. She was 34 and my soul-mate. I still dream of her sometimes.
Inspiration - I Said Hi by Amy Shark
Zee Jul 1
Love is like a curse.
Making me believe.
In things I haven't felt.

My heart is a muscle.
So it must have a memory.

Of somebody's love.
Lost long ago.

Only there is no beating heart.
No unsaid remark.

No last chance.
No last dance.

It turns out.
I'm getting pretty good.
At this solo act.

Love is like a curse.
Never to be broken.

It only breaks me.
Until there is no memory.

Curse this love.
Curse this heart.

For making me believe.
In what's untrue love.

Where's the only thing I've felt.
Is this cursed love.
jewel Jun 30
1st gust
drowning puddles with chimes
underneath
the hem of a guava tree
when i am robbed
of choruses
sung by the rain

with the coast
comes warm white sands
but never the taste
of salt on the ground
packed in like
grandma’s sweaters
permeates the smell of
freshly cut skin

i am fond
of bruising peaches;
no longer as
youthful as they
used to be.
expired hearts;
they are only fresh
for a week

how do i keep warm
the memory of you?
do i stash it away
in the arms of a girl
ready to be birthed
into a world
too desolate for its own

i watched the hope
crumble before my eyes
a stale concrete prison
i pushed my way out
just to see you
being burned alive
and i could not
weep, nor
could i cry

left me
to die in a moat;
acrylic coffin
meant to be
a gift for someone
happier than me
and watch my
expiration date
at my end, join me

you watched my
petals wither away
robbing me of
that which
i first loved
because i missed
you

i wish
i could
keep you
warm
copyrighted, poemsbyjewel (2025).
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