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#night poetry
waitingforthesunrise · 9 months
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Unconditional love tastes like // dirty water on a battered body // and a devil in my pocket // locked by the light of the moon.// I suppose we are not used to holding worth // in our bones. our blood // so used to the pain of a soft new night // as though pain is some small purgatory // and we could carve ourselves clean if we tried.// I would reach inside my chest and // unspool my lungs like ribbon // just to give you oxygen. why don’t you want it?// I have been needed for so long // I do not know the taste of wanting.// you call me whole and I sob // I have been broken for so long I have forgotten // that all my pieces are still a picture. 
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dkniade · 3 months
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Snowstorm Nocturne — Act III: Into the Storm, My Love!
—Winter 2021. 
A response to a dear friend’s determination to show me the beauty of winter in the darkest hour.
I thank him, my friend. His kindness gave me strength to write about this and fight.
Please attend to this tale of Nocturne the swordsman and his friend, the bard, as the two come face to face with Winter and Solitude. A friend, an enemy, what is the nature of their relationships, exactly?
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I made a Carrd for the poem since it’s quite long!
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reddestofscarves · 2 months
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febuary 3, 2024 — night time is a past-time
darling, the moon and stars know your name
every night i sing about it with shame
and every sonnet i write is the same
will you ever forgive me again?
in the dark of night, these terrors lie
creepies that crawl and bats that fly
something i can't face, in the clouds i'm still high
'cause my greatest fear is saying goodbye
but i used to bike in this neighbourhood of mine
lately all that's passed the streets is time
so it goes and the churchbells chime
i'll have to accept i'm out your light of lime
moon's not out tonight, maybe i'll be fine
maybe this time i won't dream you're mine
moon's not out tonight, maybe i'll be fine
maybe this time i won't dream you're mine
- reddestofscarves, 10:07pm
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mskpassed · 3 months
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Fuck if I know about my family
There were times where I'd feel hopeless for hours, days and even weeks on end.
Where the genes from my family would kick in and I'd want a bottle by my mouth and a line on the table. God knows where I got the worst things from, because I sure have never met everyone.
And I got better, I grew older. But I still have these nights where I am tired and hopeless and nothing sounds better than a coughing spree after exhaling smoke and some digestion of alcohol in the dawn of night.
This is one of them, don't let it fool you. I'll do it, someday it might win.
I'm not just a simple addict, I'm a generational addict. Might've skipped a person in my family, but I don't know if it'll skip me. I cough too much for my own good, I take in more than I can handle.
They say blood is thicker than water, but I never thought that alcohol would have the same consistency as blood in this case. Couldn't have predicted any kind of addiction, whether it was painful or not.
However, no addiction is harmless, it will always catch up with you no matter how hard you try to get away from it.
That last sip of alcohol might just bring you to the hospital, that last cigarette of the night might just make your lungs collapse, that last cut might just bring you some stitches.
I've got nothing to hide, yet I'm not an open book. I'm just another semi addict on the internet, writing poems and entries like their life depends on it. It does.
I have things to say I will never be able to communicate, I have things to hope for I will never be able to achieve.
I've seen the sunrise enough times to understand that what I'm doing is either wrong or incorrectly made.
I painted my room a good while ago. A white color, to make it clear if I'm ever smoking in here. I insisted on sleeping in my room that night as the paint dried. I woke up with poisoning from paint fumes, but I would still do the same even after that incident.
I am not as interesting as I may sound or seem, I word things to make it seem like it all wasn't just another boring incident.
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amateurconfessions · 1 year
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Things I Write Late At Night mini-zine
by Hannah Stokes, June 2013
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sanddollarpoems · 2 years
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Somewhere in the dusk
Wrapped in navy blue
Night hush descending
Like a velvet blanket
The moon rests her chin
On the ever growing darkness
While Venus gleams down
Offering her song of love
And I sit in this stillness
Wondering at the world
Always turning no matter
If we notice it or not
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villainup · 6 months
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The silence of night charm
Trickling from the window sill
Carrying moonlight in it's arms
The world is becoming still.
I weave a thousand thoughts
Into a intricate fabric
Cozy bedroom is my spot
To lay and reminisce.
Thoughts drip from a clift
And seeps into the bay
While my eyes serenely drift
And I drowse away
And I drowse away......
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storycollecter96 · 1 year
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ardent-reflections · 9 months
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I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves.
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wolkwolf · 7 months
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Switch off the light
And the stars will appear
Turn off the music
And birds will sing
Leave the city
And peace you will feel.
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waitingforthesunrise · 9 months
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you lean your head back against the wall. you whisper why are we like this? and my heart is full of the broken pieces. the pain I can’t rescue you from. the pain mirrored in myself. my heart is speaking in rushes of words.
so swift so subtle the river comes and goes through my fingers. water in my eyes water through my skin and my soul. I used to think what lay under my bones was an apology for existence and I was right. but underneath is the knowledge I loved you. and we’re like this and we sketch flowers with the knives in our hands and kiss the wounds. water in my hair and heavy hands full of joy. we know the water like we know the truth that we are loved by many things and not all of them should be home. we loved the darkness in each other and cherished the light. take my candle. take my fire. I’ve been a void; I can fight yours. I’ll swim to you. I’ll sing to you. song and light of my heart; all my love all my soul. I’ll fall again. I’ll touch your hand. I’ll bring the knife down and shove you away. I’ll hold you close. there are no happy heroes because we had to see the pain to touch the glory. glory in your eyes glory in your skin glory was your pain and the way you drank mine down. I’d swallow poison for you but in the meantime I’ll swallow mine. hold my hands. I’ll find you again.
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halfdead-coyote707 · 4 days
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🌕🪱
I lay among the lichen draped pine trees, sunken into the needles and the moss. The smell of rain fills the air, tickling my nose. I have a faint headache and my joints so lightly ache. I watch the stars through the shifting pine branches. You rise into the sky, round and full, taking a gasp of the cool night air. You outshine the stars and let soft beams of light through the wavering pine trees, gracing the needles with your touch. I gently close my eyes and feel the earthworms crawl across my dirt streaked skin, waiting for you to take me.
happy worm moon everyone.
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pomegranatet3a · 1 month
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on a night like this
where the electric hum of the lights is quiet
and my duvet holds me close in just the right way
these are the nights i hold still
watch as the tide takes my things, my worries and responsibilities, i watch as they float away
on bubbled noise and sloshing cool
a note to the time; take me away, fill me whole
whatever you want tonight
my room is a pool
and i’m happy to sink like a stone,
tonight
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lorcas-painter · 1 month
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Road stained green,
Wind carries rain’s eager drops,
Illuminated by a passing car’s main beam.
Road stained amber,
Rain hits my locks yet I hide under bus stops,
My heart grows ever damper
Road stained red,
Ceaseless rain hitting all with its cold drops,
I ask myself again, “Why did I get out of bed?”
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scorp-seeress · 2 months
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tiny pockets of bliss #1
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abrighterspark · 2 years
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the sun sets;
and earth meets moon
it rises, and the tides rise too
in awe, they stare
silenced by the other's beauty
interrupted by daylight
before they ever exchange a word
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