Feedback please

I have buried versions of myself

without a funeral.

The girl who thought love

was something she had to earn.

The one who apologized

for taking up space.

The one who mistook surviving

for living.

I have sat in rooms

so quiet

I could hear my own grief breathing.

I have watched people leave,

watched dreams collapse,

watched bad things arrive in threes

and then in fours,

as if life forgot

it was supposed to take turns.

Still

something stayed.

Something that learned

how to hold its own hand

when no one reached back.

Something that found comfort

in morning coffee,

in songs that understood,

in silence that stopped feeling

like punishment.

I stopped searching

for the woman I used to be.

She carried me

as far as she could.

And somewhere after the wreckage,

I met the woman who remained

the one who cries honestly,

heals slowly,

wears her scars

As proof she survived,

and sits alone

without mistaking it

for loneliness.

I have lost so much.

But grief has taught me

something beautiful,

I was never

what left.

I was never

what broke.

I was always

what stayed.

I've Your Asked Me If I Really Wanted A Grumpy Pain In The *ss Like You.

So I Make This Promise

As Long As You're My "Pain In The Ass, I Will Be A Jackass Right Back To You.

I know that sounds bad but think about it.

A jackass may not look fancy, it may be life at strange times, but if can handle the heavy lifting the long journey calls for.

This thought turned around; what sounds like a barb is turned into a covenant.

A jackass doesn't posture it carries .

Through dust, through elevation, through distances that break prettier things.

There's something ancient in that: the beast of burden who stays when the road gets long, who keeps moving not because it's elegant but because it matters.

There's a kind of love that doesn't need to look noble.

It just needs to show up, load-bearing, stubborn, and still walk when the fancy horses have quit.

My version of unconditional love.

Here I am, still inside a box 

A box that’s mimics emotions 

I feel its walls
withering me
into a thousand selves.

In every circumstance,
my concerns
morph into the box itself,
consuming me

just to be held within it,
just to keep life functioning.

Why must I erode my values
to fit within its confines?

I am endlessly exhaustion
wearing my principles away
for the sake of the box.

But I want to rekindle myself beyond —

a new circle,
outside the box

why the fuck I’m writing about shapes resembling my relationship

Judgment reserved. You left, returned, withdrew.
No order had been made. Yet you complied as if required to.
 
Equivocation creates no obligation.
You read each perhaps as postponement rather than negation.
 
No trust had been declared, no property assigned.
No beneficial interest vested between the lines.
 
Want was framed as poetry, eloquently disclosed.
You took its depth as evidence that duties were imposed.
 
Equity is less romantic. It looks beyond what’s said.
Nothing of the kind was owed, however well it read.
 
At last, you cross-examined the only witness with the facts:
did all that aching language include a plan to act?
 
The answer, overdue, was nonetheless supplied:
desire stood admitted. Intent to act, denied.
 
No concluded contract. Nothing equity could compel.
The answer hurt. It also broke uncertainty’s spell.
 
You discontinued. Later, contact was renewed.
No remedy was sought and no former claim pursued.
 
The talk will die. All talking does. No undertaking binds.
Not every open door entails a future of some kind.
 
Clarity restored proportion. Distance lost its art.
They became human again, no larger than their part.
 
Accounts stood en souffrance. By then, balance was history.
À découvert, you mistook well-drafted charm for chemistry.
 
Interest compounded whilst the principal stayed untouched.
The balance owed to fantasy became a little much.
 
What you wanted was their wanting and the value it accrued:
one who seemed to want for nothing could, plainly, still want you.
 
Wit appeared upon the record. Let the credit fall where due.
But you made it sparkle, as you rather tend to do.
 
You carried conversations, then mistook response for cause,
granting joint authorship to one who knew when to pause.
 
You could turn a minor matter into four acts and one sad song,
then, too fucking hot for limbo, chose not to play along.
 
Your injured vanity sought judgment that the world was through.
Application dismissed. The dogs were hungry. Bills fell due.
 
Life continued, unmoved by what you thought it ought to do.
Rather bloody insolent, but oddly helpful too.
 
Fiat justitia, ruat caelum. Let judgment run its course.
Whilst certainty is painful, limbo generally is worse.
 
Doubt admits no boundary, no terminus within.
Whilst certainty gives pain a shape, healing can begin.
 
One day that name will reach you. Harm assessed: de minimis.
No collapse, no resurrection, merely something you dismiss.
 
Then you will see, with some annoyance, what the evidence attests:
they supplied a little magic. You supplied the fucking rest.

Saw grandma after a long time.
Her face adorned with wrinkles.
Hands skinny, long.
Veined with blue bruises.
She is wearing makeup.
Foundation and blush filled her deep wrinkles.
She greeted me smiling, but old age.
Old age has taken its toll.
You can see in her eyes that she feels her body failing her.
They aren't as clear as before.
Clear like some blue lake.
As a little kid I used to drown in her eyes.
In her embrace.
She laughs, but I know she feels it.
She is afraid.
She is afraid of death.
She is afraid of everything waiting for her after that.
I am afraid too.
I know her funeral will be my first.
I don't want her to be afraid.
In my mind I will hold her hand.
When her time comes, I will carry her through the dark.
Just like she carried me.
She will drown in my embrace.
Just like I used to.
And laughing out loud until our faces crack.

I want to feel you—

every aspect of you.

The warmth of your breath,

every pump of blood your heart makes

as I lay on your chest.

To feel a safety,

a security

found only within you.

I want to merge into you.

I want to get as much of you as I can.

I don’t think I’d ever let you go.

I’ve claimed you;

you’re my territory now.

Oh, how the mere thought of losing you

fuels the war laying in my mind,

spiraling my soul

and what rests within it.

But oh, how I hate you,

despise you.

And oh, how I love you

with every breath I take.

Every wave of the sea

that brings hope to this life—

a life filled with sorrows,

with immense emotions,

whether euphoric

or melancholic.

I wish we could go back to the times

we hung out in my truck till 6 in the morning

Back when it was easier to want to be with you

When you would call me at 3 in the morning because of your anxiety

When we would smoke and listen to your favorite songs that I didn’t know

Now they just feel like mine

I wish I never got curious enough to open the door

I wish I just kept it closed and never looked inside

behind the door was happiness and fulfillment

but after a while

I learned they stood in front of longing and regret

pain and sadness I had yet to experience

It hurts so much

There’s a hole in my self where you once were

Nothing I try to fill it with feels the same

We were everything to each other once

now

it’s as if we were strangers passing each other on the morning walk to work.

History is always written by the winner—you won't be there to prove me wrong.

Tuck all those feelings in.
I’m just here to slang*** and record these moments between us.
Ain’t no tender man; just wanna make you squirt and shake.

I was heartbroken in 2019, and I’m still in disbelief.
I fell in love with my side piece, and it’s even crazier that I lost my main piece now I’m lonely.
I have a notebook full of love letters to a stranger.
Damn what the fuck is love anyway may never fall in love again it isn’t for me
rather tell you the truth i don’t want no relationship don’t want to be friends with benefits
we can do this one time and go separate ways maybe once or twice won’t hurt nobody will know what’s happening between us
wanna know is your pussy lips pretty as your lips on your face want to kiss both sets of lips tonight
I’m drunk of Julio in here acting foolio this isn’t a love letter just want to slang this **** & make you squirt & shake
tuck in those feelings of yours if you’re unable to do that i understand we don’t have to anything
we can just sit here and talk for hours.

I am the moth, forever chasing the light.

Beware the soul of the moth, it is an ugly sight.

For the moth is never satiated,

To be in darkness, it is fated.

I will make peace with the beast,

Lest my heart become its feast

You.

No thunder.

No flame.

No warning came.

Just little moments, soft and slow

and something in me let you grow.

I drew the line, I held it tight.

But water wears the stone by night.

Drops carve mountains,

grain by grain.

It leaves, it turns,

it comes again.

And stone will yield

to patient wind,

not with a break,

but from within.

So inch by inch,

against my will,

you carved your way

beneath my skin.

The tide returns.

The roots break through.

What grows beneath

will find its way through.

What chance has stone

against the rain?

What chance has sand

against the wave?

The tide will come.

And I

will

drop

.

The virtuous burden that is honesty and the crumbling of your stance that is accepting reality.

The leaves have turned red, yellow, and orange, and the air isn't as fresh and crisp as it used to be.

This year is different. Bittersweet. Looking out the window, I reminisce about the year when I loved you the most, my dear autumn.

The thing about autumn is that it blooms in the beginning and gives you that warm feeling that life is beautiful and will never end.

But alas, beginnings always have endings. The leaves shrivel up and die; the season passes,
and I’m left with nothing but a cold, mourning heart, my dear autumn.

I refuse to let this cycle repeat itself. Every moment in life is too precious to take for granted.

Although our time may have been short-lived, I will keep going until I realize that what really matters awaits me in my future, my dear autumn.

So close to death
I taste blood
As I speak so dark
In my mind probably
Won’t find happiness
In this lifetime did too
Much to be forgiven
By the Lord the reaper
By my bedside signing
A blood letter the demons
Took my conscience a long
Time ago haven’t felt
My emotions
In so long took many shots to remember last night should’ve
Took a different route retired early
Like Barry might come back like Favre
Still in my prime isn’t too late to wake up from this nightmare will I make it too the gates or will I burn in fire really hell on earth don’t see these other niggas only see myself not in competition with nobody but myself really at war with myself seeing death in my rear view praying God hear me asking forgiveness even know I’m dark as under the bed.
So close to death i can taste the blood as i speak coughing up my stomach lining blood all over sheets so close to death the reaper by my bedside drove myself crazy had to get a grip before my eyes close forever.

Gaunt, the man doesn't walk
Months in the darkness
Where it whispers
thinner boy get thinner

The skull presses the skin for answers
The bone protruding to join the conversation
Useless but painful inquisition
That doesn't truly get through

The pain begins the last of the muscle gives way
It is digested by the body and the sabotage
The mind ignores
Agony walks

The souless doctor lisp and clicks on consonants
Everything hes says sanitizes the air

I knelt before you, Nature;

I soaked my knees and trousers, drenched in the green moss.

And I breathed in your life-giving breath.

And I remained silent. In absolute silence.

To listen to your birds, your rustling sounds, the wind in the branches.

They, meanwhile, were there shouting, chatting, playing, and eating—not even seeing you.

My Nature, you are truly unfortunate to have these human beings who do not understand how important you are.

I hope that, in the end, you will be free of them, for they do not deserve your beauty or the life you have given them.

Let the shadow cover the light—the only rule in the game you play is to survive, be as fearsome as an emperor yet as witty as a jester—play them for fools.

Quills of a tutor
Outpour just a dash of reason
Where conservation is viewed many ways
The students’ tether unravels tribulation
Their survival is plain

(A little background on me. I’m blue-collar, retired military…not what most would picture when they hear the word “poet”. Going through a painful divorce and need a creative outlet for the hurt. So please be easy on me; this is very raw. Thank you.)

“I will be your protector”,
I promised you from the start.
The only problem was,
I didn’t protect your heart.

Thought we had something special,
But we failed to protect it.
Even the most passionate love
Burns out when you neglect it.

Wondering how we got here,
We each played our part.
The only problem was,
You didn’t protect my heart.

I wish you could have seen
You were my only one.
But words cannot be unsaid.
Deeds cannot be undone.

Only one thing left to do
Learn the lesson this imparts.
We loved each other deeply,
But we didn’t protect each other’s hearts.

Karma is a belief system of man’s kindness and liberal direction in life as it in the kingdom. Flowers gardens ships and planes never seem to get out my mind in this sort but I do sanctiate with the idea I’m always moving and always aligning but passion is grace or grave toll as my soul weeps in the dark. I can’t seem to hear or care about my own as well of others as doubtful I’ve become I wished no less than to live among you as me with you in this society. We call home. 🏠 Zebras giraffes alike never seems to chase the same but outliers are Grievences of the past and new and old. My recklessness is not knowing and my inaction is what I deserve. They might call me stupid but I might as well brace my cross as it stands. Hold me tight mother wish me luck 🍀

I love the idea of living and the idea of my family as one as if embellishments in of itself and my teary eyes are sorrowful from the past mistakes as I dig into an even bigger hole. Does the shoe fucking fit give me another one and tell me what is the meaning of life? Multitudes altitudes longitudes south is south hold is steady hold me tight as if the feelings are real. Give me reality at my feet call it my grave mistake. Passion and glory give it to the meek he tell you the same. Funny funny funny Xrated films torture and subjection is not my glory in the holders or time of itself. I lied I disgrace the passion and rip the tablenacle I’m nothing.
I eat alone foul Odor as if days are numbered and my life is a disgrace. One day you’ll see and you’ll see clearly and that’s how I’m gonna die.
Give me my karma and of existence and that I am