Ode
Sorry
I believed what you said I trusted you I believed I was safe with you I trusted that you would still accept me When I got things wrong or made no sense I thought you could see it I wasn't myself I let myself believe you cared I know it's my fault that I pushed you away It was the last thing I intended There are many reasons But hard to explain I have tried, but clearly I failed I don't have the words to say how I feel But I know I am losing control I feel like I'm screaming But nobody hears I'll try to pretend that I'm OK But it's been so long that I have not been I don't know how to be who I was I thought I had found me I should have known better Than to believe I had a true friend I want to to give up, I'll never belong I'm sorry for thinking I could
By Sapphire Ravenclawabout a year ago in Poets
Powers
By saying vest, we mean power which wears... right after. Who's wearing less because... it showed a little more, ad for an eye catcher. This, a light telling about the investments of a tailor rushed... unraveling right after. Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets
Between the Lines of Rain —
Rain has always carried a language of its own. For some, it is music, a lullaby for weary souls. For others, it is grief, the sky weeping when words are too heavy to speak. For me, rain has always been a mirror—reflecting not only the world outside but also the storms within.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Poets
The Language of Falling Leaves
Introduction: When the Trees Begin to Speak Every autumn, when the air turns crisp and the trees begin to shed their leaves, the world transforms into a living poem. Golden, crimson, and amber leaves dance through the air before resting gently on the ground. To many, it’s just a seasonal shift. But if you listen closely, you’ll hear something deeper — the language of falling leaves.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Poets
Echoes of a Silent Heart
Introduction: The Sound of What We Never Say Silence has its own language. It lingers in the spaces between words, in the pauses where our hearts ache but our voices fail. A silent heart does not mean an empty one—it means a heart that carries longing so heavy it cannot always be spoken aloud.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Poets
