new past
Let's write a new past
Hang the other one upside down
Afternoon sunshine will find herself
In raindrops
Spilled carelessly, red rubies
Begin to dream of carefree waves
There's no need, not anymore
To ask about reasons
They were never there, after all
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A man walks into a bar
And asks the bartender for a drink
Put it in a glass or a human body either way they are one and the same
The man stands before the glass stands on the counter
His hands holds the glass holds his drink
Then the exchange
Mouth open the glass lets go of all that it is
Mouth open the man seeks to forget all that he is
Lets go of the glass
The glass tumbles
He stumbles
The glass falls
The man is down
Glass splinters glitter on the ground
Stars hidden by the man on the moon
Who has fallen off his throne
Not quite responds the bartender
As he sweeps what remains of the glass into a dust pan
And he commands the man to stand back up
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Into the Dark and Away
When you've learnt by heart the patterns on the carpet
The grain of the floorboards pressed flush against your cheek
When you've grown sick of counting the dust motes
Staring dazedly as they dance in the draft
And collect under the dresser
As so many discarded dreams
When you’ve bored yourself numb and blind
Stand up or perhaps crawl downstairs
Sneak through the window, into the unlit dawn
Light as a sigh, since no one is here to stop you
Heavy as a sob, for no one is here to stop you.
Through the garden, barefoot across the flower beds
Bending the pliant necks of your mother's tulips
Her ancient tabby cat, keeping watch from the parapet
Wailing and whining, rasping its bitter refrain
Won’t you wait, won’t you listen,
Won’t you please try and understand
You headstrong girl,
You silly girl,
You golden child
But it’s too late for pleading, you’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good,
Go over the fence and into the fields
Over the fence and away
Go and sleep under the willow tree
Where its long fingers will trace its sorrow upon you
There you might find rest and forget
Forget the lonely sound of the leaking faucet
Forget the unlived life
And even your own name
When the alarm clock rings with echoes of school bells
Tolling mercilessly, striking the hour
When the chirping of birds turns to nasty singsong
Twittering their teetering chant
When you haven’t closed your eyes in weeks
And yet morning still comes
And yet duty calls, clamoring for another ounce of courage
Another shred of surrender, another pound of your bloodless flesh
Open the backdoor, let the radio fry itself hoarse
Let the phone hang and cry its phony tune
Let the gate slam behind you, swaying on screeching hinges
The old house, full of ghosts, nagging and begging
Look back, turn back, come back
You stupid girl,
You lovely girl,
You small, small thing
But there is nothing anymore you wouldn't dare
Nothing now they can forbid
You’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good
Go, into the dark and towards the forest
Into the dark and away
Go and sleep under the walnut tree
Where breath is rare but the slumber is deep
There you might find rest and forget
Forget the taste of bile of every family meal
Forget the endless list of tasks
And even the grudges you keep
When you are all out of time, of hope, of composure
When you've crossed all the days, all the Ts
Dotted the Is and scratched them out in every Christmas picture
Spent the last of your restraint
And turned all the dials on the stove
Walk to the end of the driveway, to the end of the road
The tar still sticky with the day’s heat
The faces of the whole neighborhood,
Peering through curtains and keyholes
And that voice, sickly sweet, tugging at your sleeve
Pinching your upper arm
Telling you not to make a scene in public
The crunching gravel, coaxing and cajoling
Stay here, within reach
Stay near, within sight
Sit, stand, beg, play dead
Stay, stay, stay
You stubborn girl,
You dear girl
You odd duckling
For once, let it fall onto deaf ears
Go, through the thistle, through the thorns
Following the cool rustle of rushing water
You’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good
Go, beyond the bend and along the river
Beyond the bend and away
Go and sleep under the manchineel tree
Where every touch is seared and etched into your skin
There too you must sit still as the world eats at you
Each brush like the lash of a whip
But, at least, here you can ponder in peace
As patient as a boiling frog
Your head busy and buzzing
With thoughts sharper than a hornet's sting
You may think and think and forget
Forget the whistled scream of the hissing kettle
Forget the many reasons for your rage
And even the way home.
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Most nights I don't sleep. I'll catch 3 or 4 hours and be up again. Leaving one nightmare into another. Keep having the same dream everything is super white and crisp. I can hear the fake ass birds outside I can feel the warmth of your body beside me. I smell your hair and and doze back off but I never leave this dream everything goes black and I wake up to you rubbing my hands because they hurt. Likd when you rubbed them that one morning I remember thinking Justin please don't fuck this up because no one ever cared enough to do that for me. it's only a nightmare because I have to relive it and wake up to a reality where you and I are miles apart in more ways than one.
You never could sleep unless a part of you was touching me. Some nights I would crawl into bed just to make sure that you got sleep. And watching you sleep became a hobby of mine. And I can tell you where every hair on your head is supposed to be. I'd run my fingers over your skin. and I just knew I got you too soon.
Everything has this dull monochromatic look to it now. The paint doesn't coat the canvas & the colors don't blend like they used to. Even my brush strokes are desperate; pressing so hard I tend to rip the canvas apart. And it's always been so easy to leave at the slightest bit of discomfort but not this time. How could I leave someone who has given me so much and never asked for anything in return but my time and attention...
Like trying to recapture a moment.
Like lightning trapped in a bottle.
Like The Sun also rising and setting at the same time.
Feeling like every moment we've ever had is coursing through my veins and now i can't tell if I'm high or dying but baby it's almost too late to call it. If I could hand you the loaded gun I sure wish you'd pull the trigger on it all. I can't bring myself to do it.
I only write about it here because it has to have somewhere to belong. There is no more room inside of me to fit these memories. But I won't set them down...I won't ever set them down...
-kirkshiresloss
//dog in a manger//
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the end must die, eternally spent and
just there. nothing, just ... there.
the landscape shifts and changes but
those don't matter. it too shall change.
the inside is withdrawn and hope is the illusion of being
always fresh with new things coming and going and coming.
but that death is always there. always waiting and
never giving an inch.
the respite that comes with it, may yet be a pause
in the long conversations that i must have
with myself
as we sit together.
@twcpoetry
@poetselixir
@atlasconsiderations
@imperiallefty
@blotched-poems
@abstractcommunity
@teacup13
@imperialreblogs
@poeticstories
@poetryportal
@savage-words
@brokensoulsreborn
@poetryclub13
@recognizingthevoiceless
@bitsofstarglow
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I hope one day, you will find a home in someone's heart that not only chooses you, but may even give their time just to be with you, make an effort just to make you happy, defy the weather, even deprive their sleep or try something different just to show you how important you are in their life, because nothing or no one in this world has ever felt greater happiness, than to be with someone who appreciates you for being you. So, do it then. Do it now. That is your healthiest choice.
— Chuck Akot
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Writeblr Café presents its second pop-up prompt! We want to inspire you to write by hosting more prompts. Look out for our pop-up prompts as well as prompt menus! You have 72 hours to write for the pop-up prompt, starting from the time the post has been posted. After 72 hours, the prompt expires.
Make yourself a cup of coffee, put down the book you are reading and get ready to write for our second pop-up prompt:
"There was a certain comfort to be found in predictability."
Thanks to our member @strawberrystarcake for coming up with this intriguing prompt. May it inspire you to write!
Tag your piece of writing with #wcprompt.
Make sure that #wcprompt is among your first 5 tags so we won’t miss your order. Don’t feel like posting it on your blog? No worries, submit your writing to the platform here. If you have any questions, feel free to send in an ask! We are encouraging all forms of writing but won’t reblog NSFW pieces.
Please reblog this prompt post to spread the word.
We are looking forward to reading your writing!
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Whispers
Can't find my way through the whispers,
That reverberate and pound,
Because whispered words about you,
Are of the loudest, harshest sound.
They ring about and echo,
In the caverns of your mind;
Silent, vicious words,
Are most hurtful and unkind.
Drown those words in music,
Blasting loudly from the speaker,
Silence the murmurs,
Don't fear the dreamer.
A voice rises above the whispers,
With the power bound,
Emerges from the cacophony, yet
Peace is nowhere to be found.
Ambrose Harte and Lexi
My fourth collaboration with @scatteredthoughts2 (his verses in cursive). It was a pleasure writing with you! Tag list under the cut.
Read our other poetry collabs here
Never miss a poem or a short story I wrote! Comment if you want to be added or removed from my tag list.
Tag list: @opes-magnas @dg-fragments @silversynthesis @heartofmuse @scatteredthoughts2 @rhapsodyinblue80 @alaskaisnothere @stoic-words @september-stardust @wordsforsadpeeps @writingitdown @intothevortex @aubriestar @rearviewphilosophy @silent-steals-the-night @warriorbookworm @raevenlywrites @alex-a-roman @artsymagee @giantrobocock @theheightofdepression @writing-is-a-martial-art @beautifulimposter25 @cirianne @stories-by-rie
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i. I get bored easily. I'm never satisfied, always looking for the next best thing that's gonna make me feel something. I'm never enough and people are never enough for me.
ii. I feel too much. Even when I'm empty, I feel my bones trying to crawl out of my skin, looking for a body that's not so broken all the damn time.
iii. I lie and get lied to often. I lie to be liked, I lie when I'm bored, I lie because it's natural and I lie because it's easy.
iv. I always think there's something wrong with me, that I'm special because I've got all these flaws and all this pain, when the truth is that everyone is flawed. Everyone suffers in its own way and that's what brings out together and that's why I always try to be fake deep so people can feel something, so that I can feel something.
v. I'm a fraud but I think you already got that.
alaskaisnothere
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Forgive me for failing
Forgive me for trying
Forgive me for believing
Forgive me for denying
Forgive me for pushing
And forgive me for pulling
Forgive me for doing
And for doing nothing
Forgive me for the nuances
Of being me and being human
True, someone may have
Done it this way or that
But I'm not that someone
I'm this one asking for you to
Forgive me for being me
And I'll keep at it till
Breathing becomes
Less than forgiving.
- mirror mirror ; bedside lamp light, prayers and pleas
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Every morning, a new ache.
Sometimes shallow and fleeting,
Often deep and terrible.
Each night, I sink beneath the covers,
Heavy under the mounting stresses,
Some are old and scabbed over,
Picked and scratched until bloody,
Some new and ripe,
Plucked from the troubles of the day,
Sore, just the same.
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liquorice
It's time to visit
The light of night again
Another death, another face
The now silver bullet
This stolen hour
With joy and darkness in the audience
I want to look not in the mirror
But at myself
Step by step
Gently
Reach the door
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i think of you when it rains
i think of you when i see angel numbers
i think of you when i see the colour blue
i think of you when i hear certain songs
many songs
every song
and i think of you when i see a stranger's smile
and i think of you when i do a random act of kindess
and i think of you when when i see winnie the pooh
and i think of you
i think of you
i think of you
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Where I Went
Just yesterday, I stepped out of the train and onto the platform
Immediately engulfed in holiday chatter
But I don't have answers for the questions I'm asked
I can say where I went, not where it took me
How I was touched and, in fact, altered
By things so small and momentous
As uncommunicable as the emotion within a dream
Or the exact quality of the light
On a worry-worn day when you look up to the sky
And feel peace wash over you like a sigh
Today, I'll have to unpack my suitcase and stock my kitchen shelves again
Foreign to the person who did all those tasks in reverse
Only a week ago
I'll wander, lost in thought halfway down the supermarket aisles
Clutching to me the unexplainable
The yellow of your dress that morning in the lobby
How we smiled at each other across the dining hall
You backlit and me dazzled
In the bright orange glow of those July evenings
The absolute kindness of that sharp, expressive face
The warmth of that 'we' you used so readily
Giving from yourself like someone who has never been torn
The arms you opened and laced around me
How baffled, how enchanted, how shiny new you made me feel
Scoured clean from the grime of the past twenty years
Filth I had come to confuse with my own skin
With something akin to fate
I am spending the rest of the summer back at my parents’ place
Back in my hometown
Where everyone is nice and certain they know me
As though I could still fit in the backyard snow angels,
The chalk outlines of my childhood
Or the version of it they prefer to remember
I’ll sit at the dinner table, I’ll grab coffee
I’ll drift through the unavoidable rounds of friendly catch up
Eyes fixed on a punch-drunk fly knocking against the window pane
I’ll drone on, saying the expected strings of words,
Same old, same old
The recycled stories we always tell
Stale and small
The inch of common ground we can still claim
As we sit in the car and I stop listening
Suddenly sickened by that nickname they call me
By that blinking neon sign over the corner shop
That no one fixed since I was seventeen
The syrupy languor of this place
That settles around you like quick setting cement
I’ll shift uncomfortably, my thighs sticking to the seat
My mind miles away, tuning out all but the distant radio
And the flickering of other images
How you danced with pure, untethered joy
Your lithe, lean body
Like the still thrumming string of a bow
After the arrow is released
A one-chord instrument that always strikes true
Thumping with the elastic tug and snap of a rubber band
Beating in rhythm with the thunderous boom of the bass
That moved the walls around us
How we mouthed shards of songs, circling each other
And spoke, loud and close
Other the stampede of sound
Your hand pressed to the damp curve of my back
The sweet boozy smell of your breath
As I rested my chin on your shoulder
How you stood on tip toes to reach the tap behind the bar
And poured me water into your own glass
Still tasting of the zesty alcohol you'd ordered
And of your lips against the rim
That cool rush on my parched tongue
As intimate as if lapped from the palm of your hand
I could say I’m confused
If there were not such clarity, such crisp edges to those moments
When, drunk off your infectious ease,
I brushed against what it is like to inhabit the world
To feel trust and kinship, both unspoken and undoubted
A few hours on, morning brought departure
Yet the sliding doors that closed behind you did not sever the luminous tie
It didn’t feel like a tearing, like the terror of loss
I knew I would see you again
I knew that, even if I did not,
Nothing could tarnish or undo this heliotropic change
And so, even after the goodbyes, even through the frenzy at the station
This quiet, serene stillness lingered
This sense of unfolding
I sat on the sticky floor, in the miserable, crowded heat
Far removed from the other travelers’ frustration, from my own bruised-eye fatigue
Aloof and mellow, I looked at the sky through the glass ceiling
Its sun falling slanted, pouring hope into me like a new breath
I could feel where my tailbone connected with the concrete
I could feel myself rooted there, embodied
One amongst many, emmeshed but unmoored
Somehow, after all these years more than the sum of the parts I’m missing
I thought: I am here, I do not need to be told where to go
Or who I am
I do not need to fear or fret
The train will come, sooner or later
I will get home
And home is not what I once believed it was
Life may, after all, have more to offer than a long aftermath.
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Comes over me so swiftly
I haven't time to think.
I know I swore It off
but I really need a drink.
These decisions that I'm making
they ain't making any sense
but my hands start to shaking
when i speak of you in past tense
theres no one here to talk to
when im sitting all alone
I'd rather smash this bottle
and pick up a phone
but we need no melodrama
no audience to critique
when we both were born of trauma
Lovers sharing a karmic link
As im drowning in these feelings
I can feel you in my bones
Hell may not heal me
but even Hades needs a home.
-kirkshiresloss-
//Persephone//
@fadedawaywiththebreeze
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And this simple act begins again— loving you, loving the other part of me that is you.
— Chuck Akot
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