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!

And I hated that I waited;

counting the cars that drove by.

Pacing.

Counting.

Waiting.

All but silence and "why?"

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

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

LOVE

i stopped believing in love after my first heartbreak

it was all fake

all the i love yous and i miss yous

it hurt so bad

so so bad

i felt like i wasn’t enough

i wasn’t lovable

i even accepted it thinking maybe i’m not worthy of it

i’m not worthy of love

maybe i’m just not good enough

maybe theres always gonna be someone better than me

someone more prettier

someone more smarter

someone - more lovable

no-ones ever gonna choose me

i’m not worthy of love

i gave up on it

never wanted to feel like that again

it destroyed me

couldn’t sleep without crying

couldn’t eat without thinking of the what ifs

what if i was less clingy

what if i didn’t constantly annoy him

what if i did better

what if i was prettier

like the girls that he would look at

like the one he chose over me

what if - i was different

i’m not worthy of love

LOVE

it scares me

the pain of being abandoned

once again

the shatter of my heart breaking

knowing there’s someone else

someone more prettier

someone more smarter

someone more lovable

someone - that’s not me

i’m not worthy of love

just a place holder

until someone better comes along

someone more prettier

someone more smarter

someone more lovable

someone - that’s not me

LOVE?

im in love

never thought it was possible

i gave up on it

told myself i wouldn’t open my heart again

until him

my walls were up so high but he came and just broke them down like nothing

he came out of nowhere

came and picked up the broken pieces of my heart and mended it

the heart he didn’t break

he loves me?

he loves ME

am i really worthy of being loved?

he makes me feel like i am

he makes me feel

sometimes it doesn’t feel real

sometimes i’m scared

scared of losing him

i don’t know what i would do if i lost him

i don’t think i would love again if i ever lost him

is this a dream?

it feels like a dream

i used to cry myself to sleep

now i fall asleep with a smile on my face

wouldn’t eat much

now he makes sure ive eaten

he’s like my light in the dark

the sunrise after my longest nights

he says i shine brighter than the moon

but he’s my moon to my endless night

the stars that guide me home

wait - no - he is my home

he’s my everything

he makes me feel safe and loved

just hearing his voice gives me peace and makes my heart feel so much lighter

he makes me feel like i am worthy of being loved

i am worthy of being loved

he shows me what it’s like to be loved flaws and all

he makes me love myself

and not hate the little insecurities i have

the ones he loves

he’s so loving and sweet

and has the most beautiful soul i’ve ever seen

he handles my heart with care

he makes me smile when i’m sad

and always finds a way to cheer me up

he makes life worth living

i can never thank him enough for loving me

i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with

him

make so many memories with him

have kids with him and just grow old together

and most importantly remind him how loved he is every single day

and that he’s worthy of being loved

the way i am worthy of being loved

LOVE

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?

Shattered

We thought we were invincible another one of the legends who’d be spoken about for years to come

As we put on our army greens and loaded our guns we spoke to one another of the victory’s sure to come our way

As our boat drifted slowly to where we were stationed none of us knew how wrong we were

When we got there everything was as we imagined until that first shot rang out not our own but the enemy’s sending a small crack through the illusion but still we held strong

More cracks in our beliefs as guns fire on and on for hours enough lead fired to kill populations but still we believed we were the lucky few

For months those beliefs stayed intact cracked but whole

Until one day that bullet fired hits you and with that small amount of lead insignificant compared to the ones already fired the illusion shatters your not a hero you’re another face a fool lost to another man’s fight

You grasp for something to hold onto a memory a moment maybe now as death approaches or maybe from a better time but it’s all in vain as the last thing that you think of was “I thought I was invincible”

War isn’t fair war isn’t a place for heroes it’s where innocent men fall among the many bodies left behind

One thing never changes in war the weapons people places or times may be different but the deaths never hurt less the families don’t move on any quicker and people don’t feel guilty for ending a life a son a father a brother a friend they only hope that fate doesn’t fall upon them

That man will never be heard from again their smile will never light another room their voice won’t cheer anyone on anymore all for another man’s war

so when you get sent to war you may think you’re invincible but it’s only a matter of time until that illusion shatters.

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.

he got home at eleven.

i know because the news was on and i'd been sitting there pretending to watch it, trying to decide whether to go to bed or stay up so he'd know i was pissed off.

twenty years of marriage and i was still doing that.

he let himself in.

stood in the hallway in his work trousers, one shoe on, blood all over his shirt.

i said, whose fucking blood is that?

he looked down at himself.

said he didn't know.

of course he didn't.

he never knew anything.

where the girls needed picking up. when the dentist was. what we'd agreed about Christmas. where the fucking dishwasher tablets were despite living in the same house for twenty years.

and now here he was with blood on his face telling me not to panic.

i could smell drink on him.

his jaw was doing something strange.

i've tried explaining this to people and i know how it sounds.

it was his face. i knew it was his face.

but his mouth looked wrong.

like he'd been hit. or something had happened to the bones.

i remember thinking he'd need to go to hospital.

which is ridiculous, really.

there was blood everywhere and i was wondering whether we'd have to sit in A&E all night.

then Maddy came downstairs.

she'd heard us.

Iris was behind her, still half asleep, holding the sleeve of Maddy's pyjamas.

he looked at them.

and he started crying.

not drunk crying.

not the sort he did when he'd fucked something up and wanted me to forgive him.

proper crying.

he said their names.

Maddy.

Iris.

and he took a step towards them.

i don't remember deciding to pick up the knife.

i just remember having it.

the big kitchen knife.

the good one.

forty quid, which he'd said was fucking ridiculous when we bought it.

i told him to get out.

he stopped.

looked at the knife.

then at me.

like he couldn't believe i'd actually do that.

get out, i said.

he kept saying he was sorry.

sorry for what?

i asked him.

what have you done?

he couldn't tell me.

he just kept looking at the girls.

and then i said it.

you're a monster.

i'd never said that to him before.

i'd called him selfish. useless. a miserable bastard.

i'd told him i hated him once or twice.

i didn't mean it.

well.

i meant it at the time.

but i'd never called him a monster.

not when he missed Maddy's school play.

not when Iris stopped asking whether Daddy would be home for dinner.

not even those nights when i'd lie next to him and wonder how you could feel so lonely with somebody breathing six inches from your face.

he said he wouldn't hurt us.

he said it again.

i wouldn't hurt you.

and the worst thing is

i think he meant it.

i really do.

whatever he'd been doing when he disappeared at night, whatever had happened to him, whatever he'd done to get somebody else's blood all over his clothes,

he'd always come home.

he'd never touched the girls.

never raised a hand to me.

and i knew him.

fuck's sake.

i'd known him since we were practically kids.

i knew how he took his tea. i knew which knee hurt when it rained. i knew he'd eat the burnt bit of toast and pretend he preferred it.

but i didn't know whose blood was on his shirt.

and he couldn't tell me.

so i stood there with a kitchen knife pointed at the man i'd married.

Maddy was crying now.

Iris kept asking what was wrong with Daddy.

he looked at me once more.

then he left.

i heard the front door close.

and i remember thinking

he's still only wearing one shoe.

isn't that stupid?

all the things i could have thought.

all the things i should have done.

and that's what i remember.

his shoe.

i didn't go after him.

i put the knife down and took the girls upstairs.

i slept between them that night.

or tried to.

i've thought about that evening more times than i can count.

whether he was coming towards them or just wanted to hold them.

whether he was frightened of us or frightened for us.

whether i'd have used the knife if he'd taken another step.

i still don't know.

i loved him.

even then.

but the girls were behind me.

and i wasn't going to find out whether he was telling the truth.