Sírok. Nem vagy mellettem,
Itt lenne a helyed szerelmem.
Sírok. Nem fogod a kezemet,
Könnyekbe temetem fejemet,
Sírok. Nem kapom ölelésed,
Minden nap, a pokolban égek,
Sírok. Nem mondhatom többet,
Csillogó szemedbe, szeretlek,
Sírok. Mi vetett véget ennek?
Az élet, vagy a sors? Elvégeztetett.
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Inktober day 1: “Open Wound” by Uttering
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Dream of Death.
I dream of death every night. Letting my mask of innocence and artlessness slip. It crumbles into fine shards, revealing a vicious person, who thinks of destroying herself. The desire to tear myself apart, inch by inch. To rip and shred everything until the voidness is filled with something akin to contentment while laying on the cold floor of the bedroom with a smile so pure and heavenly, eyes glimmering with glee, over the moon as I wait for the death to walk home to me.
However, it never did. The death was so cruel, for leaving me with my misery, sorrow and woe.
.
.
.
.
——P.P
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i want to do nothing but kiss you over and over again until im out of air, until my lips are numb, and until my cheeks hurt from smiling.
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7 Years
For seven years, we were at each other’s throats.
Now, your eyes seem to see through me; never quite focused on my face.
We pass each other like ghosts. My eyes can’t help but drift toward you. You’re always looking the other way.
It’s like I don’t exist in your world. As if you didn’t hold all of my secrets all those years ago.
I’m left to wonder, do you even remember my name? My birthday? My favorite song? My dreams? My fears? Do you remember what it felt like when you brushed the tears off of my face and told me it was going to be okay?
Because I remember all those things about you. I remember what you wanted to achieve and why you wanted to leave your home and all you knew. I remember the songs that you played when you wanted to escape.
I remember your birthday. I think about it every year. It hits me that I won’t be with you when you celebrate.
I remember your name. It’s on the tip of my tongue every time you pass.
Seven years, we were always by each other’s side; constantly revolving in each other’s orbit.
I guess year eight is when we finally drift apart.
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my heart is a vase
my heart is comparable to a vase
hold it so it will not break
put lovely flowers to fill it up
pour water so it will not dry up
my heart so delicate like a snake
when i’m in love it sheds
my heart so fragile and frail
must be held with care
a broken one i cannot bare
-f
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SUBTEXT (2023)
There’s no controlling
Who walks uncalled for in my dreams
And lord do I wish
I could
What is the message
That the harbinger of finished
Is trying to convey
By making me feel
What’s already over
Dead and gone
Does the subconscious
Know more than it ever
Lets on?
And why bring it up
When you’ve already done anything
And everything to
Move on
- E. Ecker, January 2023
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Yesterday once more
Like a breeze in the wind another day will come
just like the day before.
Today is a gift
yesterday once more;
spilling tomorrow's mysteries all over the floor.
- Kenzie
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i guess
so i guess you wanted me to know
What you want
And while i smiled through the pain last night at the dinner table
I told all my sins just later on a piece of paper
So i guess i wanted you to be
What i see what i think
And i keep saying that you’ll understand my made-up stories
About you and me i wrote each night to fill the empty
And as i write each line it just pushed me deeper into all the lies i told
I couldn’t find a way to keep on holding on
to all the pain i made
Choosing me over what you will never be
And so i guess there isn’t room to be
What I thought we could be
But i smiled with no pain last night at the dinner table
All the sins i wrote just turned into a piece of paper
a piece of paper
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👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆
The King and AI by me (Con J Cosby) ▫ Enjoy this cyberpunk-themed poem I wrote. (link above) 😊🙏 #TheKingAndAI #Cyberpunk #CyberpunkThemed #CyberpunkPoetry #CyberpunkPoem #MyPoetry #MyPoem #PoetryByMe #PoemByMe #Poet #Poets #Poetry #Poem #PoetryReading #PoemReading #ReadingPoetry #ReadingPoems #PoetOfTheWeek #PoetsOfTheWeek #PoetryOfTheWeek #PoemOfTheWeek
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Szeretném az időt végtelenségig szántani,
Elbújva a világ elől, szemeiddel játszani,
Réteken, erdőkön át veled bolondozni,
Esőben mit sem törődve táncolni,
Télen a kanapén karjaim közt kuckózni,
Lustán egymás mellett feküdni,
Erotikától fűtve, ezerszer is szeretkezni,
Kezed a mellkhasomra tenni.
Kutatni a szerelem miben létét,
Imádattal harapdálni ajkaid szélét,
Szorítani tested magamhoz,
Ritmikus szívünkkel írni egy dallamot,
Órákig bámulni egymás lelkét,
Közösen kergetni egy színes lepkét,
Ábécé sorrendben szerelmünk firtatni,
Millió szívsobbanásod, szüntelen hallgatni.
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Inktober day 7: “Deeply Rooted” by Uttering
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because the lowest parts are the honest parts. the lowest parts can't lie to you. they can't be faked, they can't be bent and ruined like the good parts can. the lowest parts are the things that stay the same, and they can't be ruined. they're the strongest parts, and they're the most beautiful in my opinion. the lowest parts are the way of truly knowing just how human we are. remember, we're all experiencing life for the first time. we don't know what to do, what to expect. everyday is a new experience.
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the brooke
The brooke whispered in my ear
It promised a life of peace
It promised love and happiness
All I had to do was leave
~~~
Leave this world
Full of hurt
Full of strife
And fall to the curse
~~~
The brooke whispered in my ear
It promised a world free of worry
And I trusted it
And I trusted it
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Sag, werde ich dich wiedersehen?
Und wenn ja, wie viel Zeit wird zwischendrin vergehen?
Oder wirst du nur eine Erinnerung sein,
wenn ich auf die alten Fotos starre?
Heute nehme ich Abschied von dir,
diesem Land und meinem Leben hier.
Und kehre zurück in meinen Alltagstrott,
wo die Verpflichtungen warten.
Es war uns von Anfang an klar,
dass das zwischen uns nicht auf Dauer war,
Und doch haben wir es gewagt,
hat unser Glück auch versagt -
ich bereue es nicht.
In einem anderen Leben, ich wäre geblieben,
aber wir wissen beide, dass es nicht geht.
Und es schmerzt umso mehr,
weil du es verstehst.
Sag, werde ich dich wiedersehen?
Und wenn ja, wie viel Zeit wird zwischendrin vergehen?
Oder wirst du nur eine Erinnerung sein,
wenn ich auf die alten Fotos starre?
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