Life doesn’t pause—it shifts its shape, It doesn’t heal, it learns to drape Soft silence over empty chairs, And plants new flowers in the tears.
By Zakir Ullahabout a year ago in Poets
They tell me, “You understand everyone. You always read what’s behind their words.” And I smile — because they don’t know
By Ellieabout a year ago in Poets
Some days, I wear my ghosts like skin. Not draped, not hidden—stitched, threaded through the quiet hours between what I show and what I survive.
By Christopher Stinerabout a year ago in Poets
I am invisible. The desperation in my eyes. I am disposable. The deafening silence of my cries. I am broken. The love I gave... and gave... and gave.
By Luna Verityabout a year ago in Poets
Alone is not the enemy, though we’ve dressed it in shadow and fear. It is the sound beneath the noise, the breath we hold to hear.
By Gabriela Toneabout a year ago in Poets
There’s a kind of love that doesn’t scream to be heard— it hums beneath the surface, soft and sure. And that’s what this is.
By Annie Edwards about a year ago in Poets
I caught the deep inky blue of it in bottles labeled 'pleasing' and set them on a shelf next to bowls full of tears and baskets full of unwanted memories.
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
no one can go through it without a small voice that is heard from the deepest heart but you are able to accompany every word that is born from it
By [KuBaTo]about a year ago in Poets
I want a goddamn break I want to shave my head I want to dye it purple I want drag make-up I want bold lips I want screaming
By Ariana GonBonabout a year ago in Poets
Rhythm Ancient, Roots unseen, connecting me, A silent song, days on end, Awakens senses, barefoot again, Each blade of grass, natures aid,
By ROMEOabout a year ago in Poets
Becoming Her – But Not Quite Here’s a letter to you—the girl I once knew, Let me heal the pain we stumbled through— the kind that clings to the ghost I keep pretending I’ve outgrown.
By N.K Eunabout a year ago in Poets
Mark my heart’s mind. To help me find. My sacred design. If I can rewind. And re-work time. I might walk with the Divine.
By Putri Ojongabout a year ago in Poets
