My pink, almost velvet pajamas that I haven’t washed in two weeks.
My different-shaded blue comb that I’ve used to scratch my wrists.
My dirty clothes from the past two weeks.
My trash can that hasn’t been taken out in two weeks.
My lotions sitting in the sink that hasn’t been used in two weeks.
My own tears falling down my cheeks.
My soon-to-be invisible scars on my wrists.
My wound on my right leg from scratching it.
My heart breaking out from my rib cage.
My cries and hyperventilating coming from my eyes and mouth.
My blue comb scratching my inner wrists.
My nails digging into my left leg.
My washed hair from doing a slick-back for four days so no one would see the empty patches.
My toothpaste sitting on the sink.
The salty taste from my tears falling down onto the floor.
Hey, love. I know you see me, we've exchanged a few words, just here and there, but I can't help but see you everywhere. I know you know me, you know what I like, but all we seem to do is fight. Maybe it's because, we both refuse to see, our true feelings really can come to be.
Hey, love, I know you like me, I know it's true, I really am just crushin' on you. I like your laugh, your smile, your voice, I just wish one of us would make that choice. The choice to admit that… just maybe, we could be something more than friends. Are we meant to be together in the end?
Hey, love. You're a really good friend, you know me so well, I just wish we both could tell. Tell if you liked me, or if I like you or if we're just being manipulated into something that's not really true.
Hey, love, thank you for being there, even if we're not meant to be. I'm still crushin' on you, I just don't want to let you see. I'm scared of my feelings, of being let down, but then again… is there any other way to know how? To know how to love, to know how to laugh, to know how to admit that we could be something more than friends.
Maybe, just maybe… we could be the game that ends.
Why am I so forgotten?
Why aren't I leaving an impression?
Why do I matter?
Without her,
i am nothing.
No hug.
No words.
No glances.
No…anything.
what have i done.
“illyyyy”
“Read 9/24/26”
“She’s not going to have her phone for a while.”
“Notebook, and texts from last night.”
“I don’t want a hug from you!”
ok.
i get it…
I can picture her on her grey carpet floor
in her 11x10 bedroom.
I see her body,
cold to the touch.
She’s in her royal blue silk pajamas.
Her favorite.
She’s laying on her floor,
with a knife in her right hand,
left at a 103 degree angle upside down.
Feet sickled so much that
they could be twisted off in a second.
I see the blood pouring from not only her wounds,
but her scars.
The nails that dug into her thighs
are bruised from so much pressure.
The thighs that were dug by her nails
are now white.
I can picture her parents walking in,
not even looking at her,
but rather the stain she made
on the newly-replaced carpet.
“Why’d she do that?”
Everyone will ask.
because of me.
I think—
no.
i know.
“I don’t know.”
I’ll say instead.
I look at her,
I talk to her,
I walk past her,
I high-five her as much as I possibly can.
But all I get is a three-finger brush on one high-five of 17.
I feel her damaged nails from taking off her press-ons,
I feel her smooth, moisturized, fingertips brush against mine,
I feel all of her sorrow and pain
pass through my blood cells
and though my veins
and into my brain.
Why isn’t she asking for help?
Oh wait.
It’s me.
Sirens ringing through my ears.
My cold, dead body,
Laying on the brown, wooden, kitchen floor,
Holding a cheese knife in my left hand.
My neck split open, blood leaking out endlessly.
I hear the sirens of the ambulances
rushing to the back alleyway of my townhome.
All I hear is celebrating,
As the one I love the most
Can’t even talk to me.
You are you and I am me
Except when we are we
But when we are we I am no longer me
I become we while you stay you
So no longer can we be we
Cause in the end I need me
Even if you don't
all these candles tell me to die,
but one is my wish to live
Dusk
brings a sense of calm
Sultry tones of his laugh
rent my headspace
Wrap around my fingers
like a lightning rod
Flush my face with fantasies
but none are rated family
And my juvenile self wonders
What it's like
to be consumed by love...
I think I'm close.
I for one
I’m being strangled
by the radiance of his half-life essence.
Ubiquitous beauty,
bleeding through my AMOLED screen.
To truly appreciate it
I need this in 4D.
4D? Why not 3D?
Because... for me
I want to exist beside his.
If my beginning and end are the same,
I’d want them both to have his.
And if I spent it all for his
I’d be the happiest frivol.
I thought living was a time where I didn’t know when my last day was going to be.
only I do.
I spent my time trying to fit in boxes that I’m not square enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in spheres that I’m not quite round enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in jars and I’m not quite long enough for.
I’ve tried to fit in picture frames that are just too big for me.
I can’t fill any hole.
I can’t fill any empty space.
I can only make it worse.
I write down the thoughts I need to say.
I say them and they don’t come out quite right,
They never do.
They look me up and down and left and right and they don't choose me.
Not even me.
I think and write all of the reasons why,
But i never can
Maybe because I talk too much,
Or I talk about myself too much,
Or maybe I was cocky that one day, even though I didn't mean to.
I don't understand.
“I have friends,
But I want more.
Ones that are real.”
That didn't come out right.
It sounded right when I wrote it.
Maybe that’s the reason they look me up and down and left and right…
Because they’re trying to see into me,
And they did.
How should I tell them?
Tell them who I really am-
How I feel,
How I act.
Will they still love me?
Will they still care for me?
Will they be there for me?
Something I will never know.
Something lost out there.
Something I will probably never see.
That part of me is hidden.
Buried so deep,
other wounds are already piled
on top of it.
When the mirror shattered it took my vision
Eyes cut so deep my tears were red
Broken and despaired no light reached my eye
Reflecting on myself without a mirror
Appearances cost so much
Broken glass everywhere all I can feel is silver
I hate the fake me but they just want more
Silver ain’t good enough, they only want gold.
Said I was special but secretly despised me
Projecting their flaws onto me
I can’t blame them
Clown is a clown no matter how funny
A Carnival of carnivores
Eat the meat discard the bones
Wish someone would toss me some
But I am beyond repair
My name is mirror man
But not anymore
Who am I now?
Just a man?
Higgledy-Giggled
Iron-spined advocate
Raised you with discipline
Unyielding.
Young mama rises in opposition
Big Momma stood solid-
Tough love that felt mean
But-
Built one unbreakable.
A mind that flows like a journal .
Ideas that stretch as long as river canals.
The ambience is burdened and sinks once in a while.
The focus , undisturbed like the Blue lotus of the Nile.
At that moment with everything on its climax,
The surreptitious heart doesn't allow the body to relax.
With simple words to be said ,the throat is choked,
The sensitivity of the heart was poked.
Stuck on the same predicament with no solutions,
This problem exfoliates with the burning passions.
All passing shadows are the regular audience.
The night weighs the duration with an alarming presence.
Sleep feels like a futile exercise with a heavy chest,
All it takes is one word after the other to finally rest.
Are you scared that your words would be what they detest?
Fool, I think telling them is for the best,
Even if your role in their life is of a guest's.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.