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#poetry corner
originalmoonkid · 3 days
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Ab mein likh toh puri ek kitaab du uske nam par. Par kambakht daar toh is baat ka hai kahi saara zamana uska deewana naah ban jaye..
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ch-aunie · 1 year
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alex-a-roman · 2 months
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Before the lights go out
Let's be lovers for a day, In case we won't make it through the night! At least we'll have a story to hold onto  For when the world ends, We know we're not meant to grow old So maybe let's tell each other words We’ve never heard before, Confess our crimes and taste the sky Before it all comes down, Before the earth is fire and ash, Before the lights go out.
~ A. A. Roman
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Ada Limon ~ Joint Custody
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ninasdrafts · 4 months
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I couldn’t fool you if I tried, not by a long shot. You spot my lies from miles away, hidden in the lilt of my voice and the set of my mouth. I don’t have to say a word. It’s the little things. You know what to say to get me out of bed in the morning, curtains half-closed, sunlight peeking into the room. Your hand reaches for mine when we enter a room full of people because you know I tend to get overwhelmed. You are quiet at night, in the space between trying to stay awake and falling asleep, and when my eyelids grow heavy your fingers trace mine to let me know I’m not alone. You ask me what’s wrong only once, and when I tell you I’m fine, you don’t dig deeper, even though you know I’m not. You know I’ll cave in and tell you when I’m ready. You eye my ink-stained fingers, but don’t comment on them, a secret smile ghosting over your lips. You leave the lights on for me, turn the music up for me, lower your voice for me. We speak in code, using made up words, paint each other’s worlds in colours others are blind to.   You don’t have to tell me you love me. It’s visible in everything you do or don’t do. I hear it in everything you say or don’t say. It’s in the spaces between. Concealed beneath fits of laughter, lines of our favourite songs, hidden in words I wrote. You see me. You know me, better than anyone ever has. To be known like this... I don’t know how it could get any better.
to be loved is to be known / n.j.
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shittyartestries · 6 months
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you left the door cracked as if you might come back
i don’t know how to stop waiting for you
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uaravsh · 5 months
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"Poetry doesn't have to rhyme, it just has to touch someone where your hands couldn't."
- Rudy Akbarian (@uaravsh )
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27paperlilies · 6 months
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One day this will all feel like a dream,half forgotten and faded. There will be a few moments that shine bright and poke through the haze of the past, but mostly the memories don't last, and time moves oh so fast.
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thisispoetrybyamyy · 1 month
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Right now, I can't love anyone, That's why I don't want to offer anyone the sweet treat of love because so much is already happening in my life, And I fear I might ruin someone's life by loving them.
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eefrostpoetry · 1 year
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i was so desperate to be loved that i didn't see you were incapable of loving me
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illbeyouranchor · 2 months
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Did the avalanche of your mistruths bury us both?
Or was it just me?
I didn’t hear your scream, but I felt it.
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originalmoonkid · 3 months
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I opened myself like a book in front of you.
But it hurt when I think.
How You only read the pages
that you wanted to.
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ch-aunie · 8 months
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alex-a-roman · 10 months
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You can't see it, But you make me smile every day There's nothing I can do, You're so far away In the moonlight We will meet and dance again.
~ A. A. Roman
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Urgent message to a friend in pain ~ Joseph Fasano
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ninasdrafts · 4 months
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This is what I remember: losing myself. You have to know one thing about me: I'm an observer. I notice things. So it didn't take me long to notice what you liked about me. Not long to understand that the traits and the things and the tidbits that made your heart beat faster had little to do with me and a lot with the idea you had of me in your head. The blond girl, the throws back her head shaking with laughter kind of girl, the girl who sits at home and waits for you to come back late at night, the girl who unlearns to enjoy herself when you're not around. I became her. I was her, for you, for as long I could. This is how it started: I donned a mask every time you came over. My features never slipped, a sweet smile permanently glued to my face, every line filled to the brim with adoration. You looked at me and I saw bright lights and I thought it was how it had to be. I thought this was how it was supposed to feel. A tightness in my chest, in my lungs. Feeling too small for my body, for you, for this world. It didn't matter that I tried to decode entire conversations when you left. That I thought everything I said and did was wrong, that I blamed me for your outbursts, for your deciding to drive home in the middle of the night, for your pretending I did not exist for weeks on end. And I felt like it. I felt like I did not exist. This is what I have to remind myself of: I rediscovered myself. I stuck my hands into piles of ash, debris and broken bone, and I dug so deep, I nearly got stuck on the way back up. I found her, I think. I found who she was before you, buried who she was with you, and treasure who she will become after you. Because there will be an after you, and it will be glorious. And you know me: I'm an observer. I notice things. And I remember them. And no matter how many times I encounter a part of me that misses you, the memory of losing myself will always be clearer, more fleshed out than the muscle memory of my fingers tracing the palm of your hand.
- this is what I remember: losing myself / n.j.
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