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#sad love poetry
cherryteaskies · 2 hours ago
blue poem (you little worm)
blue water flows on my ribs
I have blue hair and veins
and blue bruises on my legs
behind the wall cries my cat
under the wall I cry
I thought that I can get used
to the lack of love
like I was used to my sore tooth
which firstly didn't let me sleep
but then I made friends with pain
but three your words was enough
for make me break like yellow mug
sent on a flight with careless hand
I spilled under you into blue pool
like a tea
(I've never heard anyone so tenderly call me "you little worm")
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The fact that you have your own different life and your own set of people whom you care for and I'm over here wondering if I'll ever be a part of it or not makes me sad sometimes.
It also reminds me that I have absolutely little to no life.
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thedesire · 3 hours ago
If someone is really into you, you don’t have to keep begging them for a text, call, or to spend time. They’ll do it if you’re a priority.
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if-i-ever-die · 3 hours ago
Mirroring, a poem by me
I wish to make it so that
every time I open my eyes
I can look upon their face
with eyes of that lover's flame.
I wish that every time I breathe
I smelt their scent, one of
subtle flowers and summer breeze,
that I could hear their voice
and never strain
to have them ever close at hand
for a lover's touch, that I might go
to a brand new pink and rosy land.
my heart beats faster as you say
that you love me over
and over again. I wish to
disappear inside your voice
to hold you always close and tight.
I think my flaw is that i
always see the dark's holy light,
the beauty in the brokenness
the terrible sight
of loving each other, then
starting again.
I wish that when I opened my eyes
you were still there,
that when i looked up to the sky
I could hope soon I would
bury my face in your hair.
where did you go, my friend?
I cant help but love you
to the end.
to the end I will follow you.
my passion is my undoing
for when I love so hard
that hell's fires could leap up,
and fight the clouded light of heaven
I betray myself.
I sell my soul piece by piece
to the ghost of you
and former loves.
how many years has it been
or did mere months past since
I was seen,
huddled by the wall
wishing for your call of love?
straining my ear.
were you ever close enough?
that you would die
and give your blood?
I know that I would fall again
and again from the highest mountain.
for that mountain could never
be greater than our love.
but what is it to share a love
not what we had, I am
sure of that.
what we had was pain,
and spending our days and
wasting them together.
because life is so one sided now
once your reflection leaves
you behind with just a shadow
of a desired life
that you will forget with time.
I do not love you anymore,
but wish I did
have dreams of life
with love once more.
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totallyinpain · 4 hours ago
i hate you and i never wanna see you again but...
every minute and every hour i miss you more
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rinconliterario · 5 hours ago
Obsesión de vivir, José Sbarra, 1975.
Los dos viviendo. Es el paradójico desenlace de nuestra tragedia: seguir con vida cuando se agotaron las esperas. Los dos sentados en las gradas del circo cuando terminó la función y con ella, naturalmente, también la magia. Y los dos estamos solos. Flotando como corchos en el océano nos miramos el uno al otro, pero no podemos ayudarnos.
Los dos poseemos lo mismo: promesas incumplidas, Ausencias inaguantables,
anhelos no concretados y una Antigua e inmensa acumulación de soledad. Y los dos necesitamos exactamente lo contrario. Por eso al cruzarnos en este absurdo derrotero, flotando como corchos, sólo atinamos al sarcasmo, esa terrible arma de doble filo que acaba por herir más profundamente al que la empuña que al que recibe la estocada. Los dos sangrando por algún costado, la diferencia es despreciable. Y a la larga, la tristeza nos domina con la dañina voracidad de un cáncer a los dos por igual. Los dos altruistas y capaces de la mayor bajeza al mismo tiempo. Los dos juntos, pero separados por esa ineludible condición de dolor. Los dos con nuestra sensibilidad golpeada contra las paredes de la vida cotidiana. Los dos predestinados al error, a equivocar siempre el camino y a encontrar lo ansiado a destiempo. Los dos incapaces de construir una torre que nos salve. Los dos obligados a representar una farsa sin autor. Los dos, en definitiva, sin saber por qué.
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totallyinpain · 5 hours ago
my passwords still ur birthday btw.
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bellebeaumonde · 8 hours ago
Maybe when I’m older I’ll realise how wrong this was
Maybe then I’ll see everything what my friends saw
Maybe when I’ll loose my innocence, our story will look different
Maybe when I’m older I’ll see that we acted like two teenagers when in fact I was the one fresh out of high school
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queerbipolarpoetry · 9 hours ago
It shouldn’t be possible
To miss someone this much
But every time I picture her
I feel like I fall apart a little bit
And I worry she won’t be back in my arms
Soon enough to put me back together
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