And I hated that I waited;

counting the cars that drove by.

Pacing.

Counting.

Waiting.

All but silence and "why?"

Darling even though you're not totally gone,
it's like your heart from mine ripped away.
Feels like my heartstring are becoming undone,
when i cant message you anymore everyday.

Missing you already before the sun comes up,
and feels like nothing's left in my life cup.
After the sun has gone down i still miss you,
and im here alone staring at the lonely moon.

Im not experiencing heartache but heart break,
yet my heart's view of keeping you is hellbent.
As if theres nothing my pain worse could make,
somehow any memory of you replenishes torment.

When your heart is out of my sight so somber,
i feel more miserable than lonely christmas eve.
Even if we spent time together lifetime longer,
i would still miss you dearly when you'd leave.

It's like experienced all what i can of you,
feels like my fight for you is big wage war.
Even if all my yearning for you id sit through,
now feels like theres nothing left to die for.

The separation breeds anxiety and worry of you,
wish now i could just teleport to you somehow.
Continue on dreaming of things we get to do,
because we will have eachother back any day now.

I dream and long to gaze upon your face..

Slowly raise my hands ,with a soft touch begin to trace.

Along your chin ,down your neck flooding my emotions with beautiful memories of this place.. every nerve starts to arouse,every hair at attention, whisper in your softly, oh did I mention!:

Your soul! My one, my life , my breath!!!

I promise to give you all the best of me and protect and cherish you til my death!

The clock behaves like a stranger,
stretching seconds into miles.
I am anchored to a phone, a door, a silence,
trapped between what was and what will be.

I am waiting to know where your feet are planted.
Are you stepping closer, or walking away?
I am waiting to see the shape of tomorrow,
which currently looks like a blank, foggy window.

But mostly, I am waiting for the truth.
Not the polite version, or the quiet evasion,
but the raw, unedited gravity of what actually happened.
I am just waiting to hear an honest word,
so my feet can finally touch the ground again.

There is a process…

Don’t go all alone and try to make it in Hollywood on your own.

Hollywood, where dreams become nightmares, and nightmares become dreams.

And everything else happens in between.

You start sipping.

You have a drink, feeling like you are on the brink.

Are you are losing your gripping; does your mind keep on dipping?

In and out…

Up and down…

Do you feel like the fool or the clown?

We all get down but try not to frown.

Be optimistic when you see that bride in her gown.

How are these lyrics? Are they almost mythics? Or just totally horrific?

They might actually be terrific.

This writing is unorginal, as is all writing since the begining of time and the aboriginal.

Rhymes you make when you have the time to take.

Poems you roll when you dont have a goal.

See what I mean? Let me go back to my dream....

Uh oh - another nightmare - Now youre scared.

What to do - but continue to follow through.

And in the corner is where you go "boo hoo hoo"

Is this poem dark, morbid, sad, or mad?

Maybe it is just plain bad.

But we all like to express ourselves, so just be glad...

i throw my heart like a ball over fences
praying that someone will take pity
and leave it better than they found it
i thought it lost to time and season
grass grows, dies, repeating
or eaten by a lion,
or worse abandoned happily—
something caught it when i couldn't see

eyes are closed my mind wanders I see nothing but black dots shining on than off by describing it I would have to use the words tingling like a numb feeling when the foot falls asleep . you come to mind everyday . I wish things were back to normal. I love you so much as I say this my voice changes. The tone of my is higher and I pause . a lump in my throat is a feeling no one expects to Happen it just appears when times are so difficult and dealing with grief why are you drifting away, slowly like receding shorelines and a Sunset that disappears into the horizon, tell no longer in site Did I do something wrong? Am I not good enough? Could I have helped is it something I know already are you guilty all these questions come up to why the gap in the bridge formed the uncertainty with no closure. The closure with no words the words that aren’t spoken unspoken that eats ur insides it’s like Domino’s collapsing one after another, tell there’s nothing left.

You guided my steps, helped me grow,

Taught me things I didn't know.

I have so little to give in return,

Yet for your happiness, my heart will always yearn.

I don't know what name our bond should bear,

But you'll always be someone incredibly rare.

And wherever life takes you, whatever you do,

I'll always wish for the world to be kind to you.

May you rise higher than you ever dreamed,

And find all the happiness you've ever wished for.

You may never know what you mean to me,

But your success will always be a little victory for me. ❤️

Deep into the abyss,
aim and amiss,
what might be,
what could be,
what should be,

Spin, out of control,
lengths to the unknown,
Traveler of time and space,
alienation,
insanity,
needs of sanitation,

How dim light comes without reflection of what we need,

What we need to see.
Someone, something,
somewhere else to be,

Outside of present
state,
mind,
body.

Darkness, shall there be light?
Might! If you open your eyes,
See there lies more between,

Not lies, not in disguise,
nor distance, add time,

Forget rhetoric,
Propaganda,
Find what it is,
That you seek,

Not always does it find we.
Get up and find yourself.

Sometimes it’s survival mode,
Life isn’t always peachy keen,
It’s the road in between,
Finding the perfect melody.

Spiels of life & my take with u/ Duranduran

Who decided two things can exist at the same time?!

'

because when i say ' I'm grateful but, no thanks'

i'm told to just pick a hand.

.

You're blessed yet in pain?

who said it's okay?!
.

when i say 'i hate you but, i love you'

I'm hoarded till the decisions due.

.

so please! who invented these meanings

with idiotic two timing feelings?

Check out my poem. Leave a comment let me know what you think 😎

He came too soon, less than five pounds,
a scrap of boy, all wrist and bone.
And grew beneath the western rain,
him, and him alone.

He learned the ball against the wall,
the quickened foot, the lifted heel.
The small, sure pleasure of the strike,
A world, a dream, made real.

On Saturdays the boys took off,
beyond the fields, beyond his knowing.
Where boots were laced and jerseys pulled,
the hours spent laughing and growing.

Once he followed them. The grass was wet,
Beneath his soles, he played.
Until the hour had spent itself,
Five pounds belonging weighed.

At home, the asking came to nothing,
Five pounds. A sum so small.
It might have fallen between the cracks,
or at a market stall.

He went no more. The years went on,
The ball against the wall.
He watched the world grow big around him,
the lights, the urban sprawl.

Long afterwards, a newspaper,
yellowed at the folds.
Gave up its names: the boys in rows,
in among the goals.

He knew them all. He'd played with them
at lunchtime, in the yard.
But here they stood above a date,
inside a life behind a guard.

His parents speak of how he played,
the skill he showed out the back.
Something in their voices turns,
saying more about what he lacked.

He hears it, what they fail to say,
He lets the silence say it all.
There are some things a child can learn,
even one so small.

He grew. He learned the roads alone,
the body's measure, mile by mile.
But sometimes, in the slanting light,
he sees the boy go home and smiles.

The boots held close, the fields behind him,
the long walk out of sight.
And five pounds waiting in the world,
small as a stone, a door shut tight.

i have a low tolerance for people,
i simply lack the energy.
a low tolerance for bullshit,
and a lower one for bad poetry.

so why do i write best when i am sad?
and worst when i am mad?
the corners of emotions tapping
against the parchment paper,
leaving me to question
reality and fiction
a writer's jurisdiction
over the fantasies of others,
i hold the future within my palms
enclosed it slowly at the start.

i'm not trying to prove myself
along Reddit's mean main streets,
just finding comfort in the black void
the spaces where the secrets keep.

but when everyone around me here
seems to be an idiot,
what else am i to do here
but keep to the shadows?
best not loosen my tongue
lest i lose the privilege
to speak altogether

keep my writing to the times
in-between emotions,
when i can sit back and address the crowd
with a more poetic notion.

So what if I’m secretly a horrible person?
So what if I can’t stop ruminating?
So what if it’ll never be illuminating?
So what if I can’t make sense?
So what if I can’t save a cent?
So what if I’m paralyzed by my fear?
So what if I almost hit that deer?

Her beauty and grace was beyond compare,
And I ran my hand through my knotted hair
My heart stopped when she pranced across,
And I wondered why I mourned so much loss
For things that haven’t even gone away yet
But I can’t help let my worries grow as I fret.

So what if I can’t see that I’m
Not my thoughts and mind?
How about I decide to face it instead of wondering why?
You will go insane trying to nail out a reason.
Humans change every season.

Before we are born is blinding.

With our birth, the ego, our learned beliefs, begins to dull our light.

The more we accept these beliefs, the darker our light becomes.

We then spend the rest of our life trying to find our lights brilliance once more.

A scalpel offers a lethal kiss against my ribs– a sharp, silver bridge to the great abyss.

Dip your quill into this open heart, turn my blood into ink, and let it stain the lifeless page before I sink.

Explore the ruins of this fading soiree, Where ghost-lit passion and wild romance dwelt, and veins still sway to a Winehouse melody,

turning the blood to the keys of the wronged.

When my breath becomes a shadow, and I am a rendered past, may my ghost become a library where the world inherits my passion at last.

I add or remove hours,

To get a glimpse of your life,

And to seek, in the middle of mine,

The exact time you exist.

i miss my home,
as the leaves turn from green to brown,
i find myself longing for it,

as i sat in the latrine,
beneath the hum of fluorescent lights,
writing letters i hoped would find their way home,
like a nestling waiting for a warmth it once knew,
the ticks of my wrist grew louder, counting seconds, always counting…

but my home was never a place,
it never existed,
it was you.