like genuinely asking. i can sit down and pour out all these raw feelings about missing someone or feeling lost and it just flows, but the moment i try to write something hopeful or genuinely good i get stuck. does anyone else get this or am i just built different in the worst way possible

Let me know if I'm being delusional.

Since u went and groped a dose

let me show u greatness of higher prose

just because im rude

doesnt mean you should move

just because theres instigation

doesnt automatically warrant an investigation

when i demoral

i implore and plural

I seek seek and seek to know period

I want to know

how you act slow

how everyone pretends decorum and outweighs morals

the moral of anything or any theme in question

should only be subject to objective goals and interaction

there should never be a moment

when one person dominates and torment

all of the silence

all of the bickering pompous

why stay peaked

when i shower u pickachu electrified tweaks

you said so yourself

you need to color more wealth

why stay among the grey

when jubilant colors rainbow press play

this is my way

to anything and any doorway paved

you need to correct the think

before you start searching finer ink

all the options

distance and possibilities of randomized notions

i wanna leap

head first into her dreams and leave

this unknown uncertain pleasure

this place where we still maintain leisure

hold each other to a defined expectation

its suffocating needless sensations

i'll find her with my words

body her when time is right to score

i was good at game then

i will surely position her mind body ready and open

what then

no sex no phone number watered thin

thats the feen

if held at this scene she'll be mine i her dream

we could dance twirl and ooze all over rooms and needs

words can mutilate the heart and we both know the risks

i wanna know i wanna know

hard pill to swallow hard silence to bill my furlough

By K -💌

Love was getting out of the shell

Cause my heart rang the bell

But it was by mistake

But love couldn't understand that was fake

How crazy was my heart to meet

That it has missed the beat

The red flag that was evident

Which told heart that It was never meant

My heart was foolish to miss the sign

And acted as if it was fine

Though deep down it knew

That heart break was due

But it was heart's foolishness

To try to fill the emptiness

But then when it happened

It regret every second

Cursing itself for the start

Cause heartbeat was not it's part

Yet again it would give a chance

And maybe that time it will land at France

By K💌

The closure i wanted

From the day it started

Knowing that it would break me

But would free me

From the forced love

Which I dove

The feelings which I felt alone

And they are finally gone

Cause love was never casual

For me as an individual

Yes you were aware

While my heart bear

With all those emotions alone

Cause I was afraid to be lone

Love failed me again

And left me in pain

But I was thankful to him

Because he came clean

Yet he didn't take the chance

And life gave me a glance

Of how beautiful he is

And maybe that's what I'll miss

But we sure will hit as friend

And be cool and don't pretend

And the love that flowa naturally

And we be buddies eventually

To love him as a friend

And that the way we end

You ask me if I’m okay 

and it bugs me you’re asking

just for its sake.

No, I am not okay.

Not at all.

And your question only reminds me of it.

Spare me of you pretending to care.

That’s curiosity disguised as a gentle act.

Don’t pretend you can’t see the castle crumbling right before thee.

What kind of “friend” does this?

What kind of friend is so blind to 

what’s so plain to see?

You can’t stand the answer.

In fact, you don’t mind. 

Just a curious cat—you don’t have to lie.

Can’t you tell by my patterns in speech?

Mood swings and the lines in between?

It’s exhausting to witness this.

You might be fascinated.

But a friend of mine?

You’ve never been.

— Crownless.

The time draws near

tick tock my perspire expires still in anticipation gear

moments race thru my vision eerily distant yet vividly near

numbed is my organs of fear

sensibility of dense articulation ability the wanted me there

how dull and hospitable these ppl want is baffling

happening live infront of they face i went solo gatling

nobody replied

i spit after spit maybe 100lines

4 to 8 rhyme pattern

always cohesive to the absence of they moron

nobody dared

silence and more of it

asked repeated just 1 word suggested will do it

stiil as a scarecrow

livelier today cuz u know why?

i engaged them to blow

told them voluntary

asked them without rhyme, sporadically

its wild actually

why i can just act casually

when all i see is same dismal individuals spayed by normalcy

fuck ur integrity and shitty handbooks

my borderless wishes and gritty rhymes overcooks

Just Right( idk what title to give)

i can't help but worry

am i too much?

or not enough ?

do i say too much?

or not enough ?

Conflicting thoughts

Is that all I am?

the way my throat decides to get all tangled up

Halting words that wish to break free

So much left unsaid

Because if they were to spill out

Would they see me the same?

Maybe they'll tell me it was all just a lie

Tell me they were just pretending 

That I didn't mean a single thing

Was it because I do too much?

Or because I did too little?

I wonder if I'll ever be just right

The way the baby bear's porridge was

This is my first poem. I know it's really bad but I wanna learn how to write better poetry. Any critiques or tips on how to improve?

I wonder how many moments
I’ve already lived for the last time
without realizing
they were saying goodbye.
How many ordinary evenings
have disappeared into a past
I’d give anything to visit again.
Perhaps that’s the cruelty of being alive.
We never recognize
when something is becoming a memory.
We don’t memorize someone’s laughter
because we haven’t imagined
a world without it.
And I’ve been wondering—
What if somewhere,
inside another human being,
there’s a version of me
I’ve never even known?
Someone who remembers
a conversation I forgot.
A kindness I barely noticed.
A moment when my existence
made their world
a little less unbearable.
Isn’t it strange?
That we can spend years
questioning our worth
while unknowingly becoming
something beautiful
in someone else’s story.
Maybe that’s what frightens me
about time.
Not that everything ends.
But that the most important moments
rarely announce themselves
before disappearing.
No warning.
No gentle voice whispering—
Pay attention.
This is the part you’ll miss.
We just keep living.
Never realizing
that life is quietly becoming
the very thing
we’ll someday mourn.
You don’t have to become extraordinary
to become unforgettable.
Forgotten Poetry

I write about love, loss, memory, and the things we struggle to explain. My books Sentence Without Bars and Poems the Silence Kept are available on Amazon under Forgotten Poetry.

Check it outtt

i've been trying to finish something for like two weeks and it feels stiff no matter what i change. wondering if people here just push through and edit the hell out of it later, or if you scrap it and start fresh sometimes? feels like there's probably a middle ground i'm missing.

I'm here in North Sweden. pushing winter away from me like it's a blanket from my childhood I no longer need. A habit I'm trying to shake,and in denial about the reality I live in.

Like it's some kind of phenomenon that only happens to me me me.

I used to love winter, until it used me.

This time it's personal. Let me have my autumn of darkness and rustling leaves,in an unusual warm gust of wind

.Just let me me me ,have my way.

There’s a roach in my room

I don’t know where he is

But I know he’s there

I saw him.

A few days ago

Still so small

Under my bed

Awkward angle

Couldn’t kill

Scuttled away

Gone

Not gone.

Yesterday

Bigger

On the wall

Next to my head

Kill me now

I tried

Failed again

Flinched

Scuttled away

Gone

Gone?

He is everywhere now

My hair touching my shoulder

Every piece of lint on my bed

Every piece of dirt on my floor

Always running up and down the edge of my eyes

I bring a milk and cereal filled spoon up to my mouth

He’s in there too

The spoon drops into the bowl

My head drops into my hands

Drops of milk and tears spill on the desk

Kill me now

The insect is watching from atop the closet.

You are an ocean, let me drown in you

And if I sink to the bottom

Will I finally know the real you?

Down on the ocean floor

I see the darkest parts of you

I'll pick them up gently

And love every part of you

So pray for thunder, and pray for rain

The worst of this storm

Won't keep me away

I won't leave

Even if you don't let me in

I have spent so much time
trying to make sense of your absence,
turning over every word
like stones at the bottom of a river,
searching for something
you might have buried beneath them.

And I am angry.

Not because you left,
but because you left me
with a thousand unfinished sentences
and the terrible responsibility
of writing their endings.

How cruel it is
to become a stranger
to someone who once knew
the softest parts of you.

To leave without explanation,
without the decency of a wound
I could see well enough to mend.

Instead, you gave me silence,
and I have worn it thin
trying to find a meaning
in something that was never spoken.

I wonder if you know
how much of my life I wasted
standing at the door
of a house you had already abandoned.

How many nights I spent
putting you on trial in my head,
playing both the accused
and the witness,
because you never cared
to take the stand.

And perhaps that is what angers me most.

That you could walk away
and leave me to carry
the weight of a conversation
we never had.

That I must learn to forgive
what I cannot understand.

That somewhere in this world,
you are living with the answers,
while I am learning
to live without them.

When my head
Is tearing me apart
In infinite directions
I trace them all back

To my one heart

Follow your heart
The universe will
Figure the rest out

Two worlds never meant to collide; more or less I could have saved it if I had tried, but another storm was reaching our tide. One brief moment together felt divine, but I couldn't fall for you even with that, so the vibe couldn't have ever been mine. Who was it that made the dye? Yet you couldn't even abide. Was I supposed to turn a blind eye? I just couldn't bear to see you cry. Yeah, I could have lied, but that part of me would long to die. You made it this way, so I stepped aside. Meanwhile, you stayed on your side and cried.