Home Crush Poems

Restless Regrets
This story unfolds with a young girl in her early years feeling the effects of love, in a quaint little town all rashenalty went...

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More'n nine months on...

and still I feel infuriated at myself
concerning squandered funds
passively, senselessly, and willingly
surrendered nest egg
to computer hackers
(imposters, jackknifing, and liquidating)
coercing me to forfeit...

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Winter solstice, shaky hands and cold fingers of mine,
million mistakes, you held my hand, to leave me again,
afraid of the dark, afraid of my own...

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Sunset of your summer, by the poolside all my winters
and when you go away, waiting like you're my only way,
drowning down in your sight beiges,
I...

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**Content warning: depicts abuse (please skip to one of my more lightheaded poems if one needs to).


To you, your abuse began as a game or...

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It is you: the queen of hearts dubb my last breath your own even in death in a hole the rose above my chest...my- epitome,...

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I cant help but ask why. 
Why did she become my friend way back in year 12.
She was so funny, and kind, and perfect.
so perfect.
Why...

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She is your friend.
It’s what you always say.
She loves your little friendship
And the fact that you are friends.
She cherishes it dearly
Because somehow you are hers.

But...

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It was just a silhouette but it reminds me why I left the spirit box closed 
I felt as though the hand I was holding
Was...

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Young in summer,
Admiring you from afar,
Knowing I had no chance,
But dreaming none-the-less,
To catch your glance.

Never having,
Was easier than losing,
Wanting is more kind,
than Longing, for what,
can...

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When the sunsets,
And birds fly back to home,
In crimson light,
I hold my pen to make a sketch.
But on these pages
You appear, my dear,
I kiss your...

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I’ll hold you’re heart and never let go, 
In the name of love, name of love. 
I said a thousand times and now a thousand...

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He asks if its rude
To postpone the last,
Move it to next 
So he can go home.

Honest,
I tell him
Yes it would
But he can.

He asks if I’m...

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I often go to the wild nature,
My Missing poems went to hide in the jungle.
The swift wind sighs through the leaves and asks me:
“Tell me,...

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He gathered flowers, petals which felt like first rain,
“She loves me; not” his heart in strain, 
Relentless plucks, his hope at test,
Until the final petal...

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