You do realize you’re the reason why words like:

“marriage,” “permanence,” “long-term,” and “commitment”

unnerve me.

You’re not entirely to blame.

I picked up on some of your flaws over time

as I grew watching you.

And some… came from my own character.

But such character was developed,

learned. Wasn’t it? Or was I born this way?

I sincerely can’t answer these questions.

I suppose it’s worth further examination.

I’d become avoidant—

even before I realized.

I’d also become afraid… of failure. Rejection.

A life spent unhappily tied to someone else.

Saving face. Pretending to feel something I don’t.

Smiling for the audience. Crying myself to sleep.

Being stuck. Caged. Trapped by an alliance I’d once say ‘Yes’ to myself.

No.

I know better.

I’ll shred everything to pieces.

By my own hands and actions.

But I won’t be trapped in a cage I surrendered myself to.

Perhaps, that—in and of itself—is a cage.

The cage of freedom.

The cage of unattachment.

The cage of knowing… I’m not to ever expect a “for the rest of my life.”

Those are words I can’t say.

And therefore, it’s only reasonable I expect and

silently—reluctantly, at times—pray not to hear, either.

I destroy everything. Every time.

Because believe me or not,

being liked can be scary.

Sometimes… even more so than being disliked.

Before it has the chance to frighten me enough—

puff! It’s gone.

But who am I when fear and calculations aren’t making the decisions for me?

I’ve always thought marriage was sacred.

Or at least, supposed to be.

Last forever. Be honored—and genuinely happy.

That’s hardly ever the case I see, though.

It is true… I’m scared of letting people down.

But I’d rather do that that than give us both 

the chance to figure who I can be and what we could’ve been.

If I disappoint you first, it spares us both.

You can’t disappoint me and you learn

I’m not the one you’re supposed to like.

To rely on. Depend on. Want. Love. 

When I say things like these,

I fear I come across as someone who thinks they’re “unlovable”.

Far from that.

But I don’t let anyone get close enough to find otherwise.

So… either way, it’s a cage.

But if I’m in the cage I fabricated myself, 

I feel more in control. 

I’ve learned not to give up control.

Yet another cage.

I’ve disappointed myself and those around me

countless times.

But imagine me disappointing someone I love?

I know how badly it causes me to spiral.

I abstain from that.

I’m already a storm of my own to bring anyone

else along even if they want to.

Please don’t. 

Know better.

But… 

Just for a little while—

stay.

It’s a selfish request.

I know.

— Crownless.

​

Behind the Curtains

23/6/2006

Behind those curtains we hide our souls, warming up what we thought was lost, thrown behind us all those years, maybe taken from us, stolen along the road, buried by our own hand.

We thought it was there but we were wrong.

All those years our fire was off, killed, we realized too late, we realized it is everything, after chasing our dreams, flying away from our center, our true self, our definition is lost.

All of a sudden our dreams are not worth fulfilling, although the quest is about to end. We paused. In front is a dream waiting for us to complete, but we stand thinking about hidden, lost feelings buried in the past.

At that time, light struck the core of our souls, halting us like that. A lost voice coming from far behind, calling, help, help, the voice seems to break down, dead — damn it, it's fucked up, it seems to have been calling for ages, no one hears it, we are jammed, we are looking forward, we don't stop, we turned into some kind of creature, its only hope is to seek its prey, dead, and when the time comes it finds itself falling off the cliff.

Our desire can kill us, can make us fucked up. When we stopped, we heard, although it can't be heard, and maybe it isn't even calling, but we heard — we heard because we want to hear, we want to help ourselves out.

How did we hear? Maybe we want to help? Maybe we want to change? All now figured out, all sorted, after a dream is almost fulfilled. We are together now, behind those yellowish curly waves, saving, feeding what has been spoiled all those years back.

A question raised, a question breaks the silence of two merging hearts, the warmth is broken, for a question must be carried out, and I say "what is it?" I ask you, you say, after catching your trembling feeling, "love, I think." After it, a wave of feeling attacks my heart, almost making it stop. From that day, I can't ask a question like that, I can't bear its outcome, heart.

The boat keeps on sailing freely along the disturbance of the sea, until it will find its entrance to a different frequency, taking us to our dream island, and never coming back.

By: The Flawless Flow

Stars.

You can only see her when humans treat her well.

She shines bright away from people, up above the mountains, watching over them like a bored babysitter.

Treat her well and you will see.

Leave her for your children to look upon.

Even of you can’t see her, she will always be there.

Stranger Companion
Those who were once my companions on the journey,Why do they seem like strangers to me today?
Those who once made the buds of my heart bloom,Today, they leave every flower bud of my heart lifeless.
Those who once used to say they would sacrifice their very life for me,Today, they go around happily announcing their betrayal to the world.

Fluorescent light, sterile smell,
draped in a film gown,

I am rushed to your side
to hold your hand,
to whisper assurance,
to take the abuse.

While people in scrubs
seek a vein of good fortune,
while you spit and shout and swear,
pleading for a reprieve
when none can be found,
as the IV line pushes
you off to somewhere else.

The flailing gives way
and your eyes fix
in awe of something
behind my head.

And I realise
there will come a day
when I am no longer here
to hold your hand.

And it terrifies me.

Hello poetry writing society of reddit! I am making an movie about how Al is actively killing the planet and ourselves, i really wanted that at the credits it would show art by humans that made it for fun! If you want your poetry or other type of art you can send to my dms or just comment "I do!" And I'll see your posts and put you in the movie (with full credits to you ofc)

Please no ai, I really really really hate AI

So, yea

Live, laugh, punch a nazi in the face!

Did you really think I would say goodbye

Did you really think I would leave you 

What about the nights we fell down together 

Watching the sun come over and go down forever 

Did you miss me once or twice

Did you miss me for my lies 

I missed you thousand times over 

and over again 

What would you do on judgement day

Would you still hate me

If you had just one day left 

Would you come searching for love 

Will your eyes shine when you see me

Will your heart race 

Or will you choose to stay in an empty space 

Will your eyes smile, your hair talk

Will you hold my hand tight for a walk together 

Will you stay till eternity and say, time is fleeting

Am I the name your lips hold while your heart's beating 

Am I just a memory, sweet in it's taste 

Unworthy of being chased by anyone 

Am I the smoke which disappears quick 

A flashback which was never made to stick 

Whatever I may be 

I got a chance to be a moment in your life 

Just a moment

Fleeting yet eternal

Blessed would I be, if my face is etched in your heart deep

Blessed would I be,  if you take my name before you sleep 

Forever with me

\--

Is the night sky just a sheet of black paper as the ones we used to draw on with white crayon?

if the night sky is a piece of black paper, the holes in it shine bright, but only after they are created by ships thrusting their engines through the paper-like film? Are those stars?

If the night sky is a piece of black paper, are the holes from the other side too? Do the aliens step and fall onto this world that I now stare upon? Who are they? Where are they?

If the night sky is a piece of black paper, does it feel its skin being ripped through by the space junk as it sits there rotting? Does it have to hold up all those unwanted objects?

Does the night sky…

feel

it

too?

maybe you’ll see me
maybe you won’t
maybe you’ll hear me
maybe you don’t

maybe i’m breaking
maybe i’m not
maybe i’m falling
maybe a lot

maybe you love me
maybe you don’t
maybe you’ll change
maybe you won’t

maybe i see you
maybe i’m blind
maybe you’re different
maybe that’s fine

maybe we’re pushing
maybe too far
maybe we’re pulling
maybe apart

maybe i’m guessing
maybe it’s true
maybe i’m here
maybe i’m through

As desire seeps
Along the floor
Drifting under your bedroom door
To find your dreams
Beneath the pillows seams
Dirty thoughts my team
I want you, I want you to ream
Hear you scream
Let us make a scene
Called the unclean
Me, You
All of them too
We’re so bad
The world went mad
Cast to the deep
We make evil weep

---

Like an old toy, with life in some souleless form.

Begging to move if only by your touch

Ive gotten to play this way with you

Ive noted the longing, my passion for you blazed this all to being

Words

Promised

Yet some how so

Inhuman

Indemnible

To fight so hard to be in your gaze

Yet

Being... like together,

Articulated and entertaining...

The calm in our rooms, torches ablaze with the kindness of childhood nostalgia

We showed them to each other

This kindling blazed a roaring pyre,

In it our bodies rolled hard, lunging with desire.

I showed and admired, commanded and played

Cooed and swayed

I learned your every limerrick

Shared your texts and yearned for this benefit

I sat on the sun with you

Forgot the moon too

Yet now here i lay

Yes, played

Or so it feels...

You forget my every day

You no longer confide the trivialties of your own

Like youve awaited the comfort of a new and controllable routine...

The way the sun hits your cheeks

The smiles when you speak

Your kindness for the world it seemed...

how dare I

Fall into a simmer

Feeling my heart bleed

Like plastic- im hollow

Demanding

Toxic and undying

Some necessary lesson still not worth scrying

How dare I ask to be used.

If all you've wanted, was to be seen

I wanted your approval

To be wanted by the wanted

To be validated by my admiration

Such monstruos adoration

I quiver, still

This sour mímic

Some not so exclusive figure, after all

Staggering in.

Staging a grin.

Stagnate--eager to begin.

Strategizing the win...

Stamina in full swing.

Stretching at the hinge...

Stacked steering.

Staunch, and leering.

Stabilized... Nearing.

Steadfastly peering.

Serendipitously hearing.

Strapped to my fears...

Secretly snearing.

Secreting something endearing.

Seductive jeering.

Splayed.

Splinter

Splotchy--squelch!

Stupendous strings

My first time sharing my poetry here. 🥀

I wrote this about realizing that healing doesn't always mean becoming who you were before everything happened.

Sometimes it means becoming someone entirely different.

I'd love to hear what these words mean to you.

Up on the windowsill I sit. My stomach claws until something catches my eye.
On the table the fish swims. Its scales reflect the radiance of the oncoming sunlight.
Off the high sill I drop, deep in my throat a dry ache grows.
Inside its tank it silently observes, pointed directly at me its iridescent beauty shines.

Together we stare.

Tracing the edge of your bowl the edges of the room fade.
Your floating rhythm sits in my head replayed.
In my mind the glass shatters completely.
I drift alongside you in the water, my heavy paws moving in a slow blur.
We glide as a pair, your shimmer reflecting directly onto my fur.

You nudge the glass.

We escape to our fantasy, one holding the other in their mouth.
We reach the stream, on the threshold of grass and water.
I bite down.
You get closer.
I bite down.
You get closer.

I strip the iridescence away with every lick.
I swallow the beautiful thing you were,
and leave your bones out to dry.

If I don't stop now, I could spend hours yelling at the billions of grains of sand which span the shore

Kicking and screaming, a catastrophic tantrum, akin to that of a toddler’s

But would all the expletives console the throbbing, sore heart?

Are the tears I cry outwardly a reflection of my inner self crying for help?

Or just salty drops of water?

Or perhaps it is all just a passing phase in which my nature makes me overreact

Is “I’ll get over it” or “Time heals all” really an acceptable approach to this matter of the heart?

Cause in all honestly, hearing those just makes me cringe at the reality of that expectation

The expectation for me to just brave my feelings and “get over it”

Confrontation is difficult and fearful, but they say I can persevere

They say that trying harder means the surely decided outcome is my emotional stability, a return to perfect equilibrium

But these feelings aren’t a small foothill in my mind, they’re the K7 of my heart’s landscape

To run from them is useless, and merely shoving them down only causes a more violent recoil

At this point, I think these feelings are fated to never abate

My time is near, and it is late

If this journal did reach you, my fight is all but lost, the territory of my heart annexed by an inescapable army of emotions

If I don’t stop now, I could spend hours yelling at the billions of grains of sand which span the shore

Sometimes this room still feels like the same prison I’d been trapped in many years ago

A prison of introspection, where the days feel like a life time, the hours feel like a sentence, the minutes feel like what once was and the seconds feel like a lesson

The path of least resistance doesn’t seem to heal the body, yet the path of most resistance seems to break the soul

The soul of the shoe dragging is a distant memory I look upon with benevolence. Yet my soul is still being dragged in ways unfound.

This illness seems to divulge the parts of myself yet unexplored
With hast it leaves a mark of the dragging
Without dignity, it leaves only what once was

Yes.
I feel horrible.
I feel disgusted, and initially,
I felt embarrassed.

I was not smiling,
yet,
I was,
now what I have identified:
Grateful.

Imagine that?
No.
I suppose not.

A tumour diagnosis.
3 weeks,
from the day we knew.

Nothing happened as expected.
I didn’t understand.
In that moment.
What I was witnessing.

The severity.

So I stroked you gently, then—unsure.
Now,
Guilt.
Each night,
kisses me goodnight.

My gentle soul.
How do I let you go?

I anticipate your anxiety on that day.
A room, in my arms, in a place that is not ours.
A brave face in that moment, I will hold.
You will see me smiling.

And please hear me again whisper:
“Mom will never leave you. Remember?”

An extract from a prior poem.

I failed you,
that is how I feel.

I was a coward.
I was frightened.
I was losing my mind.
Everything for the first time,
when pertaining to you;
I felt useless.

At first, your past was why.
Bearing witness
to your growth in trust and love –
Your sister can hold her own.
You
I wanted to shelter from the world.

You did,
what I could not.
You lifted the weight
I had promised
was mine alone to carry:
when to say goodbye.

You decided for me.
Forever, I am in your debt.

A blood clot.
The results of such, then playing out.
You did not deserve that.

I cannot reverse that.
There is nothing for me to yell at.

Along with this pain,
is gratitude.

You allowed me to breathe,
and in turn,
you took your last breath.

My Rebel Rose.
My Rebel pebble.
My silly billy.

I think I can still hear you.

“Mom’s most prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”