Bitter

a scary tune

And so she lies there
With a heavy heart
Hopeless in this life, tired
From the loud music
Her neighbor plays at night

Accompanied by his voice
Singing happily, irritatingly
An old man who preys on girls
Bad, dirty, sad, and fat
Like a villain in disturbing films
He whistles in the morning

A scary tune you would hear
Shivering just like everyone
She gets her earphones
And would put it in defeat
One couldn’t wait for his funeral

P.S. I wrote this in August, I was so mad back then that I’m shocked I had the nerve to write the last line. Oh well it’s not like I mean it when I’m sane

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Poetry

the trickiest

Among all the stares I know

The lustful look is the trickiest

You pass by each other at work

Then all eyes are under arrest

Across the room full of adults

Our presence craves connection

If we are locked inside four walls

Bodies will be inseparable til dawn

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Poetry

dormant feelings

Time will lead you back
to old conversations
long interpreted
to forced messages
accidentally deleted
to sweet words
never expressed.

Vaguely asking questions:
has the heart healed
is the love still there
did the pain go away
are feelings just dormant?

I hope in your mind the answers land.

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Photography

things get bleak

Some bridges burn
Some things get bleak
Some people hurt
Some friends don’t speak

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Poetry

some seem stuck

After all the pain
we inflicted in ourselves
though some are assumed
we are still both passengers
in the idea of us.

P.S. I had a hard time with the last line of this tanka poem so I wanna share some alternate versions (where I get the title) you might like:

seemingly stuck here on Earth.
who seem stuck with each other.

Read it again and tell me what you like more!

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Poetry

Achromatic

I rode a motorcycle this morning,
something I usually do.
When the sun hits my face
I closed my eyes,
something I barely do.

Opening them would be a surprise,
one thing I rarely get.
Everything was colorless
but I was sparkling,
something I never get.

It was all an illusion though,
and you were there.
Achromatic like everyone else
but I was sparkling,
and I’m always by myself.

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Poetry

a feeling of uncertainty

Oh how I want your hands
on my face, tracing the scars
delicately. I feel your heart
trembling against my skin
full of secrets. The whispers
to my mouth are wildflowers
from my lips. And your eyes
into my soul make me weak.

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