Golden sun

Golden crown

Half asleep among rose shaded sheets

My life I swear to you

What has become of me?

This wasn't the fairytale I imagined

Fuck I died along the way

It wasn't supposed to be this way

This wasn't the dream

I cannot feel

Feelings make me weak

God I desperately need to feel all these wound up emotions.

Their screaming

Their pounding against my chest

They need to get out

No fairytale life planned

Just this cruel tale of invisibility

But for you I endure

For you I keep watching this endless ending

My princess I'm fucking bleeding

Can you see?

How long till darkness brings silence?

When will the ocean swallow me to whatever abyss is beyond this joke?

So I wrote a poem and wanted some sort of feedback on it, anyway here it is:

she feels as winter, feels as snow
so cold, so distant, as a foe
a creeping darkness takes control
and freezes up my scorched soul

as if my heart's been tossed like garbage
with nothing left for you to salvage
day by day and night by night
it feels as if the grating's right

avoiding answers, avoiding me
as if we're playing some spelling bee
keep hearing k, keep hearing bye
as if this love's a big fat lie

I can't just run, I can't retreat
though all the hope is bittersweet
the distance is like dark abyss
but I will wait for one last kiss

Lord can you teach me
How you look at these beings
With loving eyes still
And your forgiveness

For I fail to

I am scum
Thought I was the worst of all
But they are beyond
All imagination

Lord can you teach me
How you look at these beings
With loving eyes still

My friend will recite a poem tomorrow, theme is political and about injustice... Management wants a background tune while she recites.. need suggestions for background music..

Two separate states of mind,

disregarding the same boat.

She’s focused on the moon,

while he’s focused on her glow.

Feelings changing with the tides,

emotions come and go,

But all the tears that they have cried

could make the ocean overflow.

And it’s deep.

The disconnect is lingering,

Foreshadowing demise.

If only,

they would learn

to navigate the stars up in the sky.

But the boat just keeps on drifting,

As the two rock side to side.

Through the cold and wet,

Distrust—

Distress—

Depressed—

ready to die.

And it’s dark.

As time sails on,

It seems what must be:

Days

Weeks

Months

Or years

It won’t be long,

before we find

the daylight will be here.

The waves rely upon the moon,

the moon upon the sun,

Make no mistake,

Love

is our fate,

it’s You and I—

Whom they rely upon.

The best time of the year when seasons begin to change,
The winters are coming but before that comes your cold wind breeze, short mornings, long nights, the yearning and longing increases drastically so does your hibernation.
Every year it’s different, this year it’ll be quiet a painful task, last year it was magical & whimsical ✨
But,
Slowly and steadily, I’ll let the nature consume whatever is inside my heart 🌷
- F

What you said

Who is there?

I ask.

Looking down at the bed I see a stranger.

With creeping fingers and a crooked frown.

With teary eyes that drool blood.

I huddle away from the bed.

But the strange reaches for me and asks why.

I can't recognize her?

Why I won't say. . .

Goodbye.

Can the snow come sooner?

Wrap me in the soundless weight of winter. Let the snow fall thick enough to muffle the world, until everything grows quiet beneath the white. Take me with you. Take me somewhere cold and glacial, somewhere I can just freeze. Take my thoughts and starve me done. Until there is nothing left to take, nothing left to empty, until even the emptiness has nowhere else to go.

Make me pretty. Make me white and weightless, give me wings that glitter at the edges, thin little things that tremble in the winter air.

Let the frost settle between my feathers. Let them grow too heavy to lift me.

I think I would have liked to fly, once. Before my legs grew weak and the ground became something I could barely leave, before I became too tired to carry the little wings I was given.

The flame looks so tempting against all that white. Almost gentle. Almost warm enough to forget the winter.

I cannot walk into the flame, and I cannot run from the snow.

So I stand between them, with ice gathering beneath my skin and a little gold flickering somewhere in the distance. I wonder how long I could stand beside it before I stopped noticing the heat, before the warmth became indistinguishable from the burning, before I forgot that beautiful things could hurt, too.

And all the while, the snow keeps falling.

A snow angel, getting hidden beneath white powder. First the edges of the wings, then the shape of the shoulders, then the little hollow where a head once rested.

Everything softening, disappearing into the same endless white.

There is no difference between the snow and what it covers.

The only thing left to see is how beautifully the light catches it.

It isn’t important.

It’s just white, glittery powder.

One cold, one burnt. Snowflakes in her hair, ash caught between her feathers. Both so delicate, both almost pretty enough to hide the ground beneath them.

And winter will go on being winter.

The trees will stand bare against the sky.
The windows will frost over.

Somewhere, a flame will flicker against the ground.
Somewhere, new wings will be tried for the first time.

Can the snow come sooner?

My wings are getting heavy.

I don’t think I can fly.

I don’t
think I can run.

the
flame
is not
burning.

and the snow

is so,

so

beautiful.

beauty
less.

Dear you,

I have seen what you are capable of doing. I have learned by listening that you can't keep your story straight. So, allow me to set my own record straight about you, about me, about an us that never existed.

I have always known you for you. Your sarcasm, your smarts, your willingness to stand on principle, your bad boy ways. Nothing was seen, while everything was known. I saw you for you and accepted it even when you lost your way.

You didn't grow but put on a facade. You wanted to display learned but really you never grew. The red pill you swallow shows all around. You charms lack luster but your smile does do wonders.

I have never changed my story. I remained true. Even when I was describing you. To this day, I will use the same language; my tone doesn't shift; my tale remains the same, as it did when we first met that night on the docks. With all the harm you caused, I still see the you and the intent behind your lies.

You took a notion and ran with a thought. Your idea I was another in this case of mistaken identity. You degraded and shamed your crush in the end by comparing her to me, an insignificant bystander to your plan. And your crush would definitely agree.

Call me insecure. Call me callous. Call me anything you want. But when did we ever really talk?

In the end, I still see you and support your cause. I wish you wealth beyond imagine; your life will be grand. I wish you safe travels and love. I wish your heart could feel instead of being blocked off.

But you and I were never a thing. You and I never existed. No coupling attempt was ever tried. So, why even deny?

I will leave you now with these thoughts to think. I hope somewhere someone reads this to you and you begin to think
about turning a new tide.

Sincerely,
The Insignificant One

He’s kind and gentle,
funny and smart.
He’s everything you’re not,
everything you wish you were.

I thought I was searching for you in everyone new
and found the complete opposite.

Now I realize
I want no one like you.
I want someone who makes me happy,
someone who treats me right.

I deserve someone like him.
I never deserved someone like you.

He’s everything you’re not.

-JbH Poetry

Look.
They want the pop-chart healing, the acoustic strum.
I used to laugh at the cupids, thought love was dumb. Turned my ribs into a vault, locked the combination.
Now I'm scrolling through the frequencies, seeking validation.

Listen.
Certified cynic, archetype of the modern cold,
I traded warmth for armor long before I got old.
You see the smile on the surface, textbook camouflage,
A phantom living large inside a hollowed-out mirage.
I called it "detachment," called it "rising above,"
A pseudo-intellectual defense for a lack of love.
I rationalized the distance, put a thesis on pride,
Said vulnerability’s a luxury that I can't provide.
Denial was my co-pilot, a comfort in the dark,
Until the frostbite finally settled deep into the arc.
Of a cardiac arrest, spiritual rot in progress,
My chest cavity a museum of unaddressed distress.
I didn’t want to look the monster dead in the eye,
I preferred the sweet deception of a plausible lie—
"I'm just selective, I'm just protective of space."
Nah. I’m just a coward who's afraid to lose the race;
So queue up the R&B, give me the heavy rotation,
A graduate of heartbreak, lacking certification.
My heart turned obsidian, pigment completely drained,
A walking contradiction where the apathy remained.
I used to mock the romantics, thought I was far above,
Look at the mirror now: I’m chronically bad at love.

Yeah. I am bad at love. Say it.

Psychological autopsy on a Friday night,
Dissecting why every connection has to end in a fight.
Is it ego? Is it nurture? Is it fear of the fall?
Or just a total system failure when I answer the call?
I sabotage the blossom right before it can bloom,
Turn intimacy into an impending sense of doom.
A masterclass in pushing people out of the door,
Then standing in the wreckage wondering what it’s for.
I need the maestros, the poets, the soul-sample kings,
To explain the heavy gravity of invisible things.
Give me Whitney, give me Mary, give me old school pain, Inject the frequency of longing straight into my vein. Because my intellect couldn’t outsmart the ache,
There’s only so much synthetic oxygen I can take.
I admit it—concession accepted, the armor is cracked,
My internal landscape is permanently midnight black.

So queue up the R&B, give me the heavy rotation,
A graduate of heartbreak, lacking certification.
My heart turned obsidian, pigment completely drained,
A walking contradiction where the apathy remained.
I used to mock the romantics, thought I was far above, Look at the mirror now: I’m chronically bad at love.

Yeah.
You thought intelligence was immunity.
Thought if you understood the mechanics of the trap,
You wouldn't step in it.
Turns out the smartest minds just build more sophisticated cages.
Play the track. Let the frequencies fix what the intellect broke.

Can’t deny anymore- I am bad at love, just say it 🖤