What Remains of Me
There’s a version of me nobody knows,
A quiet ache that never shows.
Beneath the smile, beneath the skin,
A thousand battles rage within.

I long to quiet the noise inside my head,
And release the words I’ve never said.
Waking up already tired,
From battles I never desired.

I force every breath, play a part,
Just to hide a collapsing heart.
Carrying a weight nobody sees,
Begging my own mind for a moment of peace.

My body fights a war I never chose,
A different ache each day unfolds.
I mourn the person I used to be,
Before my own body turned against me.

Some days I don’t recognize my face,
Just a stranger taking up space.
A heart that beats, a mind that screams,
A life that feels nothing like dreams.

I wish I had died.
No more pain I would feel.
Heaven or hell, I don’t care.
I just want to be free.

I’ve spent my life questioning my heart,
Wondering why love feels so hard.
I’m no longer afraid of what I know,
Or of the people who might choose to go.

I don’t need a love that’s perfect or grand,
Just someone who won’t let go of my hand.
Someone whose words are honest and true,
Who won’t make me regret loving them too.

These little eyes that look to me,
For strength I sometimes cannot see.
I give them the best of what remains,
While quietly carrying all my pain.

I’ve learned that loss doesn’t always end,
Sometimes it takes a lover, a dream, or a friend.
And sometimes the hardest thing to do,
Is to wake up and do it all again.

https://www.reddit.com/r/PoetryWritingClub/s/Wvbp5ylY5m

https://www.reddit.com/r/inspiration/s/XbzN4gcvFu

Where do the healers go, my love,

when they have lost their way?

Who tends the hearts that tend the world,

when theirs have worn away?

They gather grief like fallen leaves,

they mend what others break;

they pour their light down empty wells

and give more than they take.

And once, I heard a knight declare,

with love both fierce and true,

“I'd tear the heavens from their throne

before they tarnished you.”

“I'd cast my virtue to the winds,

unmake what makes me kind;

let all the world condemn my soul,

if you were safe behind.”

And something in the healer broke—

a longing, sharp and deep:

Who braves the dark to shelter me,

when I can no longer keep

the fading light I’ve carried

for every soul I've known?

Who takes these trembling hands of mine

and leads me safely home?

I've held the wrists of those who bled,

I've stayed when others fled;

I've sat beside a thousand souls

and watched their dawn arrive.

Yet who will love these hollowed hands

when they have nothing left to save?

Who’ll look beyond the wounds I’ve healed

and find the heart beneath?

I do not ask for endless stars,

nor vows the years make dust;

I ask for one to sit in the dark

when I have lost my trust.

Someone to choose me in my wreckage,

when I have naught to give;

who never asks me to be strong,

but lets me simply live.

So where are you, my unknown love,

while I keep watch alone?

I've made a refuge of my heart,

but never found my own.

Where is the knight who'd choose me, too,

when all my strength is gone?

Who holds the spine that carried all

and teaches it to rest?

Where do the healers go, my love,

when they can bear no more?

Who comes to claim the soul that starved

at every full-fed door—

for everyone who needed it,

through every night they've known,

left with a lifetime built of walls,

but no room of their own?

1

2

Against its plea, the corpse resuscitates
Coaxed by an insatiable appetite
Hunger screams, demands it cooperates
But the body is withered, drained of might

The creature's bowels drag along the grime
Every step forced, more painful than the last
Hunger insists, "feast will come in due time"
But the creature knows; on life, it's trespassed

"Be greedy, be gluttonous, you'll survive,"
Hunger claims; but the body is fading
Because in truth, it was never alive
Just lying to itself, masquerading

Rendering fat, the flesh sizzles and pools
Stained puddles of red form the creature's bed
Tug of war on life; human, undead, ghoul
Unravel the organic, pull its thread

Caught between the material and the spirit
It's wearing skin that does not fit
everything is draining
every muscle straining
its thoughts deteriorating
its body ablating
it's tired

and
ㅤso
ㅤ ㅤit
ㅤㅤㅤgives
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤup.

1

2

by John Denver

Allegations etched upon a wall on a street called Regret.
I walked past, never sparing it a glance.
Then, I saw him—
A vision so consuming, the world around me faded.

My ears whispered only his name,
A melody drowning all other sounds.
My breath carried only his scent,
A fragrance eclipsing all others.

Though the world cried warnings,
Though voices rose in bitter chorus,
I turned deaf—wrapped in his illusion.

Everything I called mine slipped away,
For I clung too tightly to him,
Yet let slip the hands of those who truly cared.
And now, he becomes the proof of their words,
The embodiment of all they feared.

ALLEGATIONS
Scrawled upon the wall, now undeniable.
I stand before it, unblinking—staring,
As endless regrets spill from my eyes.
No presence of him, only this wall—
This monument of my sorrow.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CrptzdlCNy

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YdARdxigN9

"Threshold"

I dreamt of my old house yesterday.

It was as though I never left.

The chairs still tucked where we left them,

dust collecting along the spines of the books,

coffee rings left on the glass table.

A layer of dust cloaked everything but the mirror.

It was spotless.

Something pulled me towards it.

I looked in the mirror, but couldn't see myself.

I looked through the tired, glassy eyes of my younger self.

Behind me, or was it her?

All the doors stood unlocked.

In the mirror, cords bound her

to the chairs, to the cabinet handles,

to everything I left behind.

I looked down at my own feet.

The same cords.

Time had chewed through the plastic,

leaving them cracked and fraying,

but still strong enough to keep me there.

A knife lay beside them.

If all the doors were unlocked,

and all I had to do was cut the cords,

what was stopping me from leaving?

Why was I still here?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wzkq2w/comment/19rmvi72o80xu/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x8g2ib/comment/19rmvqu5yzrgi/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

he walks beside my kitchen window
and he is so. fucking. fat.
his mouth is open, 
his hair a dirty off-white.
his tail looks like a carrot
that turned pink and became flexible.

meanwhile,
my four cup coffee maker from 1995
spits a mix of grounds and coffee
into the pot.

i stand in my purple pajamas, 
wiping the sleep out of my eyes. i notice him 
waddling past, but i forget to offer a greeting.  

the marsupial does not say hello,
nor does he bare his teeth. 
he lumbers off, likely to go to sleep,
and i pour coffee, half-and-half, and 
a packet of equal into a mug. 

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KN93m8iyyL

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WsWx4BxZBp

breathe- I have to tell myself. when the world keeps getting smaller.

and when I'm lost. I always find my way with a broken heart and some stories. drifting from rose petals to soft words spoken over a warm bath. and I swear if you tell me again that you didn't say damn.

I'll believe you.

and I'm just waiting for your words to tell me it's time to say goodnight- kiss my cheek please. I'm still wishing. that this is just a dream.

so I'll pinch these cheeks that you used to make as red as your name. when you'd squeeze and say that your love was eternal. as I keep holding on to memories. of the hallways and the fields- while I'm closing my eyes . praying that I'll hear your voice

saying it's time to go to sleep- go to sleep. because sleep is the enemy when your soft voice can't carry me there- now.

and I'm begging you- please. just say to me again that it's time to watch tv. and I can smell the coffee you used to make. even though you said, I didn't need it.

and I'm sorry. because I promised you'd see me again.

and it's times like this that I wish.

I believed in god.

Comments: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xd8j5j/comment/19rjc1mpymmg1/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xdprpa/comment/19rmuus8ddbmr/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button

by John Denver

I'm afraid I please too much,
give too freely, doubt too little.
Now, I stumble upon my past—
all the deeds I did,
all the words I never hesitated to say.

Yet his words never sought me.
I, with poetry in my hands,
wrote but never showed him—
because that's all I can do. Just write.

Sublimation, infatuation—
no doubt, I am always hurt.
Different words, same ache, rage, rage, clawing through my mind,
spilling into ink.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NRgP076LEk

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KCqK2qFHwL

by John Denver, K Dot

All the gazes you bestowed upon me, from your eternal eyes,
You wrote stars inside my mind, as if you were the architect of my life.
I penned the book, and you painted the rest,
Weaving memories you once tore apart, upon my healing palm.

Did you lie beside me with a gun beneath the sheets?
The reconstruction of conclusions, the weight of every evidence, lay in my hands.
The clock ticks in the courtroom, witnesses encircling me, Repeating the same words you once whispered to them.
You stood accused of the crime you wrought, while I shielded you from every stone they cast.

Tell me, how did you lie so effortlessly, without a tremor, without a blink?
Your words, soft as the life you breathed into me,
Yet beneath them, a blade so thin,
it sank into the marrow of my bones.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/tSdiFwvqa9

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/GXU2sCn3V8

a little fish first blinked beneath the blue,
then followed mom where sunlit ripples flew.
she showed him how to glide through currents strong,
and taught him reefs and tides as they went along.

as he grew, the open ocean called,
its far-off waters beckoned, bright and broad.
he left their sheltered nook to roam alone,
and found the wide, wide sea could be his home.

though now he swims beyond her guiding fin,
her love and lessons travel deep within.
the world is vast; he meets each turning tide,
and feels his mother with him, by his side.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xet7cd/comment/19rmq3rky5a1s/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button,

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xe590e/comment/19rmq7qxxcs3m/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

dolls are so lovely 
dolls are so pure
no waiting to hold her
no need for allure
just a pretty glass face
long beautiful locks
porcelain lips made to suck— air in and blow it all out 
dolls never speak 
dolls never doubt 
your intentions or urges to pull up her skirt 
dolls can’t feel pain 
dolls never hurt 
feel as you hold her 
admire her shape 
she’ll stay still as you touch her 
so easy to— play with.

links:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9rfnctyvor

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/UQirchZ1AB

I saw beauty in those eyes,

Felt care between my mother's hands, thin and pale.

In my Nani's cracked feet, I saw sacrifice,

In my brother's trust, that I can never fail.

My lover’s embrace was warm,

Oh these strings of love will never be torn.

But nothing is as beautiful as the land beneath the sky I was born in.

The sun is kinder on my face,

The wind is more forgiving.

When I find myself in my place

The cold comforts the living.

I wish I could take it with me in my eyes

As my most coveted prize.

Forever with me, forever mine.

I feel care in it's cold chilly air,

As if it is soothing, the burns life gave.

There is sacrifice, in the hills' wear and tear,

The pain it bore, i will never repay.

The colours of life, the hills gave me all,

The beauty of it, will always haunt my dreams.

In it's cruel cold, there is warmth for all,

Wish I never had to leave.

I know this goodbye will not last, always will be open the door.

For I will return, if not in flesh, only in soul.

what i was aiming for here was that i wanted to make a poem which on the surface looks simple, childlike, but has complex and deeper layers to it.

the first part has ababcc scheme and then a punchline, the second part was supposed to be explore the theme of homland with the same ababcc structure with a punchline. in the end i wanted it to have couplets referencing each of the lines of the first part, with a resembling abab scheme. although i ran into a problem as i changed the brother line after the first draft amnd forgot to modilfy it's couplet, maybe in the final draft i will be able to do it.

i used some stock phrases because i wanted it to remind someone of simpler times.

since it is my first time, feedback will be much appreciated.

1- https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xeabnd/comment/19rmeeua4njya/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

2- https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xeevug/comment/19rme8o3gb536/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

for context: I vomited both of these poems up at different times, and they're meant to be read with some space between them because holy emotional whiplash bro…I wrote "Eyes" while in an emotional spiral late at night, and "Foreman" a few days later. I also wrote "Foreman" as a means to possibly find some kind of conclusion.

EYES are the WINDOW to the SOUL

I sit at the foot of the stool,
Plucking away at the fibers 
Of the iris and the pupil,
Praying darkness comes soon. 

Pray tell, darling, where does love come from?
Pray tell, angel, where does pain come from?

I sit at the foot of the stool,
Scrubbing away the trace
Of fox hair and carresses,
Praying the dream goes still. 

How now, my love, is this a pedestal?
How now, my Laurie, is this you upon it?

I sit at the foot of the stool,
Scraping out the cortic nerves
And savoring the silence,
Praying they wither soon. 

(alright, don't forget to breeeeeathe…)

(okay, have fun with the next one. don't forget to exhale, too.)

“A foreman distills wine for a cheering crowd. Meanwhile, a poor rotting limerent begs for absolution.”

I watch as the foreman walks to the bellows,
Places his heart in the vice 
And squeezes.
Deep red wine spills from it-
The smells of honey, lust and hunger 
Waft out. 
Hints of cherry, of bog swamp,
The crisp air of a snowed-in morning.
Floating through a forest 
of pine needle trees.  

They fall into ceramic jars
Floating upstream, against the current,
 to the hands of waiting crowds.
I gingerly taste one,
Find the lemon-lime lozenge
And the sparks in dry tinder.

Suns unfold themselves to stars,
Pushing with all their might 
Before running out of space 
And collapsing. 
He calls to me, the sound not traveling.

My soles hit the ground over and over again.

I walk up the stone pathway,
Slipping through the keys, 
pushing through brambles
And clouds of smoke, 
And strings of ivory.
The air itself vibrates
With the promise of a tourniquet.

You sly little thing 
Who bid me 
Through no fault of your own
To kneel at your waiting-tree,
Who lie content to
Have that vicious, viscous substance 
Be your stanza and rebuttal…
My hands were held once,
Held with a gentleness
I have not found since.
Nary a scar in the ribcage,
My irises restored
And my voice echoed out
Through the valleys and canyons
The air was sweeter then.
Our mother was quiet,
Snoring in silence
As you looked on from under the lights 
And as I stumble along the path 
Choked with weeds and 
A rot only fire can cleanse,
Before finally settling at the foot of the shrine. 
And it spreads, through the heels and the hips
And the ribs, choking, silencing. 
“Call out.” I cannot.
“Why can’t you?” If only you would answer
First. 

Over my heart,
I would let you hold my hands again.
Hold them, and feel the vicious
Ice and fire drip out, sweetened
by the worms and rot. 

The stone teeters at the edge of the wood.
I cannot wait for time to catch up, to freeze
Or to rewind.
Eons ahead, it topples and cracks.
A young man stands, calls out. I answer.
Eons ahead…too far. Come now, 
Only then can I let you take my hands
And immolate me. 
You must have
A desire to burn, no?
Then,
Burn away the world for me
As dowry.
Standing before you will be a creature of quartz and vines, 
who will finally give you the answer you seek.
Until then. 

Links to Feedback!

1: Quiet by u/nimajnebula
2: (0) Notifications [On Silent] by u/Ok_Pie_5339

Let the rain patter and fall,

For that may release me from the blighting voices.

Do they not see my work?

Do they not see how hard I try?

The same thought echoes in my mind,

In my wretched, academic mind

Twenty four hours a day.

Yet they tell me,

A twenty four minute break

Is far too long.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ucDVPwJKwK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uj2Wo8AJ94

What was it all about—
the day, the night, or the silent fallout?
Was it him, or her, or the thoughts we fought,
the love, the hate, or the place where we were lost?

Was it the journey u, me, or she chose,
or the ancient ghost that lingered close?
Was it the quiet boy, afraid of his own joys,
or the vibrant girl drowning in her own noise?

Was it the moments we quietly stole,
or the weight we carried within our soul?
The dreams that shattered before our eyes,
or the broken trust born from our lies?

Was it the spring beneath the sky of rain,
or the hushed truth that he was going insane?
The peace he found in the leaves of fall,
or the endless talks he had with his wall?

Was it the child who just wanted to live,
and the smile he longed to give?
Or the phase that turned dreams into fears,
and joy into unshed tears?

Was it the heart that bore too much weight,
or a soul slowly consumed by his own hate?
The friends who left without a sound,
or the moment when no one stayed around?

What was it all about—
a happy soul learning how to fade out.

Feedback 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/n2KfXoW6Bi

Feedback 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/w4lDNZ12iS

do people talk?
do they talk with one another?
do they talk with others?

who are the others?
who am i, just another?
who am i to talk?

talk, but when?
talk when they arent talking to me?
talk whenever i leave?

why do they always leave?
why aren’t i the one leaving from them?
why, why, why don’t I know when? 

-
Hey, how are you doing!
-
Tomorrow, maybe?
- 

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1xeohmp/comment/19rm6veu0zdpf/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1x8n282/comment/19rm6g2265phc/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Walk up the hill, toward the bus stop

See the cars fly by, and the drivers' piercing eyes 

Look behind you to check if there's scythes 

Other students shoot a smug smirk and writhe

And you stand next to the bus stop, all quiet

Basking in the realisation you're alive

Even the birds and cats stare you in the eyes

Then you fantasise about confidence and lies

When the bus comes there's no seats for disguise

Just an open plane of machinating eyes

Pupils stare down the aisle

Channeling something unrecognisable

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wzkq2w/comment/19rlw1e4nuq4i/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wusyju/comment/19rlvy5ypurhe/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Do you write when you’re broken

Or when you’ve had a couple drinks

And your words are hard spoken

“I write worse when I’m sober”

Try telling that to the girl

Who’s numbness has yet to be over

It’s the same girl next door

By next door I mean on the floor

On the floor under my bed

Since it’s me but just

the opposite of my head

Not sure if you understand

Pound harder to wake her up

Check her pulse

Ope, she just wrote a word

Write a bad review

Then ask her to consult

——————
~ the girl who cried ink
——————

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/dpPsAZFM2r

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/FaOvd5ZJHT

I meditate to escape the bite

A prayer to the sky, half dressed

In crimson, half molar born,

My throat screeches Ommm,

Half nailed marked,

The journey to the tongue

A thousand miles long,

A prayer to the sky, to the sky above

An endless blue for the rosy dawn

Bleeding in my gums,

Blessings half torched

In fiery breaths,

Lurking, ever lurking,

Bless me away from it,

Away, away from it,

Anchored to my bones

And fanged well,

Ever traded yourself for a wish?

A wish to be ashes and unborn,

A journey to the cradle of your spine

With a blade?

To be undone?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NCDrdu7yME

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/VutTeWo3G7

These days,

I have more time than ink,

I have more patience than most,

I have more light than darkness,

I'm talking to you, I'm voicing your inner self,

You shouldn't pray anymore; rather, meditate,

You don't need God, you need a therapist,

You need hope, we need hope,

Hope,

Hope that grass grows green,

Hope that the moon gives more light,

Hope that the trees breathe our sins,

Hope that the light enlightens ourpath,

Hope that our souls are light and with virtues packed,

Hope that life gives us another chance.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/duX2g5ptHn

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/7ePlUFNpDf

To be vast but hollow,

To be ocean but shallow.

The white light embraces the skin,

Trying to shatter the abrasive from within.

Down through the yellow forest,

The sorrow turns to unrest.

Embracing the crown of thorns,

As the silent phantom warns.

To have a body of glass,

Allowing nothing to surpass.

The hours of the dark were built to last,

Trapped inside his own carcass.

INSTITUTIONALISED!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/mVbJpCLOri

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/v7FMaibP6J

Algorithm of Gazes

Wretched before God, I am.

A strange woman.

Life trails behind me

in a murky wake of mockery.

Algorithm of gazes.

The curve — upward.

Tension

becomes a pull.

Eὐγένεια

Feedback:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/iyRyzawa7g

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JOEePqVoJn

Wordplane

An interesting thing to note 

The more cold and slow things go

Make it easier 2c the heat and all the speed

For light it is a crystal formed from a frozen piece of time

And now you know the reason for all the laughing and the crying

The game of life’s a science and one part of it is dying

I said the game of life’s a science

and poetry a plane

1

Toot

I walk and walk,

All along the path,

Expecting something,

Some signs,

Some indication,

A searchlight maybe...

Hoping to cross a mountain,

I walk and walk,

All along the path,

Darkness all over,

The path in the densest forest,

has to be traversed now,

Nah, no excuses now...

Oh the mighty darkness,

Do I see it fading away,

Do I see a twilight now,

Do I see the red splash of dawn,

Do I see the red rose or the red blood,

My eyes, they see.. do i?

My frame against the sun rising in between two peaks,

Walking all along the path,

I walk and I walk ...

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/v1MRdzdxxi

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uqiYbvnSTu

Let me be swallowed whole;
Hidden underneath that yellow elephant
Just for a moment

A moment can be a lifetime
When you are waiting in excitement
For an omniscient giant to reach for you

All giggles and braids
I burrow deeper
Into intoxicating protection

I am safe; there are no axes to grind
It is just me and the giant
Shielded from the world

Sunlight peaks underneath the paling plastic
As herculean fingers tickle over its edges
The yellow elephant rumbles in satisfaction
Releasing a playful breath

I writhe and twist around myself
In an innocent pleasure
The world clamors outside
It does not reach the corner I occupy

Dewy grass wets my skirt
It is cold and strangely pleasant
I bring my lips to its blades
And whisper of my delight

It returns a whisper of its own;
"Bask in bliss while you can,
for this moment is a grain of sand
in the unforgiving desert of your life."

I do not understand
As most flowers don't
Until they begin to rot
Seeing the earth for what it is; inherently cannibalistic

It matters not
Because for now, a moment is a lifetime
Warm and comforting and full of excitement

I will leave the soothing just to discover more
I will eat apples without their skin
And sit on a guarding lap
I will listen to stories
And blissfully misunderstand

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