Held by the Wanting A poem on addiction I did not wake up wanting ruin. I woke up wanting relief. Something in me learned early
By Flower InBloom10 months ago in Poets
What Do I Do When My Flame Dies I sit with the quiet where the fire once lived, Hands still warm from a light that has gone.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 10 months ago in Poets
I didn’t leave with fireworks, just a grocery bag and my charger and the quiet feeling that my lungs wanted a new address.
By Milan Milic10 months ago in Poets
Look there, at that torn edge of the wave, ripping white across the horizon. Over here, the foam bubbles over the scalloped edge of lace lapping sand, teasing it darker, wetter.
By Harper Lewis 10 months ago in Poets
Amazed at what I see, Reshaping my reality, Watching it come to be, By thinking differently, Choosing to be me, My dreams hold the key,
By Keith McHugh10 months ago in Poets
Flesh skin bare Visible tear Fracture hair Line call stage — Left in the dark Shadows dance Around me Remind me Surround me
By Paul Stewart10 months ago in Poets
I caught myself apologizing to a door today because it didn’t open fast enough. Old reflex. Like saying sorry for taking up oxygen.
I read this article by "Games Mode On", on Vocal. Sorry to (SIOL) say it out loud - but this is kind of how I find it on Vocal and the world in general right now.
By Antoni De'Leon10 months ago in Poets
There's flour-dusted countertops and dough balls used as play-dough. There's spitting oil and fingers that touch said boiling oil -
By Sumaira A10 months ago in Poets
Envy may linger, but it does not decide what enters. 🌑🚪 Before Envy comes - 🌑🚪 Your chest stretches, A little taut.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin10 months ago in Poets
When Night Turns to Day The night has held its quiet reign, Shadows whisper of loss and pain. Stars fade slowly, retreating light,
I hope when I’m gone I don’t rattle chains or doors, I hope I learn the language of dust and quiet corners. Let me haunt a bookstore—
By Brie Boleyn10 months ago in Poets
