I got my tarot read today I’ve been told That I’ve healed But why does that seem to lie

So I walked home alone And relived the memories we used have Walking down the street Kissing in the parking lot Dates in the local cafe Dancing in the record store

Looking at the pictures On the wall Us holding hands Us getting married Us in France Us learning a new hobby I can still feel it now

Dancing in the kitchen Chasing me around the floor Tackling me on the couch Watching horror movies on Sundays Hoping you’ll hold me in your arms When I got scared Playing board games in thunderstorms Laughing about how we guessed wrong

I can feel it now I still love you But I need to get over you But I still wear my wedding ring And you were buried with yours It’s about time I lay us to rest I’m sorry but I can’t be getting older While you’re still in your youth I just can’t your love of your life forever I’ll find another

I will always remember my first wife My first love High school sweethearts Now you broke me apart

——- This is a continuation of my poem “your sweater” have a good night

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Curse the day she learned he’s never coming home. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

The widow, veiled in black, walks through the lonely rooms, Where echoes whisper secrets of lost days, She touches faded photographs of bride and groom, And wonders how love's light could ever fade.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

Neighbors come, their footsteps soft as rain, With casseroles and words that do no good. Their condolences, like petals, fall in vain, For no one can soothe her pain quite like he could.

He was her North, her South, her East and West,
Her working week and her Sunday rest,
Her noon, her midnight, her talk, her song;
She thought that love would last forever: She was wrong.

The sun still dares to rise, yet still, she’s cold, For light cannot exceed to what is dark. It’s golden fingers trace her tear stained cheeks, But no warmth can spread unto her frozen heart.

The garden wilts, its blooms now touched by frost, Where laughter danced, now shadows cling and weep, She reads his letters, ink upon the page, Each word a bridge across the ocean deep.

Pack up the STARZ and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
Chopped down all the trees, hush the birds mid-song, For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The moon hangs low, a witness to her grief, Its silver glow a mirror of her tears, She whispers, "Stop the clocks, let time derail, My love, there’s no point now in the coming years.’’

(It’s Not completely the prompt, I wrote this for a person[actually 2..or 3, but they’re in parts to me, so Idrk], not saying who, but I think they may know. 😎so, read it if you want, I don’t care, it’s for me, and maybe it’s you I’m talking about.)

(I’ve removed someone for a reason😈)

I’ve been there next to you for a while, I’m disguised with multiple masks, Don’t trust me fellow, For you don’t truly understand, How much I know.

Don’t trust me fellow, For even though I know you swell, I’ve seen multiple sides of you, Through different circumstances, Even though I trust you more than me.

Your someone I would talk to during long nights, I mean I would think you would have the endurance, But I don’t really know, Even though I know.

I know but I don’t, I don’t know but I know, I want to hear your real voice, Yet I don’t want to because I’m scared.

A froggy mess, Your my friend, I hold you dearly, My dear new friend.

I met you a month ago, I became your friend days ago, I knew your username, Yet I don’t know your motives.

Motives I’m not sure, I hope your well, You’re a bit odd, A bit good too.

But I know I will hold you close, For a few months more, My friend that’s in disguise, My froggy acquaintance, I Hope your well, Whatever you’re doing.

You’re someone I enjoyed, Yet you don’t talk anymore, I used to know you, But I think your kids got older.

Four they were I think, But I knew the break would be soon, You gave me good feedback, So I leave you well.

Jason, I see you rarely, You don’t share this community, But you are there for me, Even through thick and thin.

You told me your story, You said your harsh past, I listened without speech, I learned your self.

I know my problems aren’t yours, But you helped me when, Those mean people picked, Picked on me, for not being ideal.

I appreciate everyone, With their kind comments, I appreciate everyone, With their cool stories.

A sequel for ‘All for Cap-Cap’ .

I can’t wake up. I’m glued to the floor. What happened to me? Everything feels sore. I can barely remember even one thing. Except my stuffed capybara. I think I saved him, That thing I did. For once in a long time, I open my eyes. I’m laying on a fluffy cloud. In front of me, It’s Cap-Cap. The thing I died for. I feel it wasn’t worth it, Because I’m starting to get bored. Bored of this one toy. We did everything together. So I felt I had wasted my life on nothing, but.. a toy I didn’t even like. I felt I was so dumb. Why did I do this? I walked away from Cap-Cap, crying. I had my life wasted.

(AHH 100 WRITINGS!!!! Some might know, but this is a response to ‘The Hill We Climb’ by Amanda Gorman.)

When night came, I asked myself, The exact same questions You’re asking now.

I’m not that smart So don’t trust my words But I can’t see the light Is it really there?

Being American is having to live With the shitty things our ancestors did And while florida is trying to rewrite the past, Us poets are the ones who will outlast.

We try to tell the truth, From our point of view. Because when I grieved I never grew, So now all I wish, is the pain to undo.

We won’t step out of the shade unafraid, Because the history will still be there Same with the violence, both then and now No, we’re not unafraid, but I’m sure aflame with anger and pain. We’ve come far But there’s farther to go.

Like you wrote, I want to try and merge, Merge mercy with might And might with right Because then maybe we’ll catch, a glimpse of the light.

Brave home supported by those that toil a little longer to be free

I can’t say all the words that you just invented My vocabulary is too much limited You have flair, and panache, and I feel resented

But you elocution is a bit on the nose Forgive the play on words, Cyrano, in my prose You’re centering the focus and you nose just rose But to this affront I must think and now pause

I am here, humble, and ready to submit To ask for forgiveness, so trust I am legit You can destroy me, my image, my words But I’m your clemency I hope to find rebirth

Growing up can be a painful thing, As we leave our childhood behind. We learn to face the world head-on, And leave our innocence far behind.

We leave behind the carefree days, Of playing, laughing, and running wild. Instead, we must face life head-on, And learn to navigate as an adult.

The pain of growing up is real, As we realize the world is not always kind. We face rejection, heartbreak, and loss, And learn to leave our childhood far behind.

I don’t want to live, that’s the truth, and you will rarely hear something as special as the truth in this world. But honestly I don’t want to live. Most people want to. For most people that is the reason of there existence. But for me I’m only here to survive nothing more nothing less. I know I could say that I do, but I don’t. It’s hard want to live when you barley want to survive. I’ve tried all the “just try harder” or “ get out more” “talk to your friends” I’ve tried, I’ve tried it all nithing is ever enough uts all too little too late. The people who are trying to help are only helping because they don’t want my blood in there hands when the time finally comes , because it is coming. They want to be able to say “oh we did all we could” and “oh but she always seemed so happy” I was never happy and I gave you all the signs I cried I screamed I kicked I punched I hurt people I hurt myself physically and emotionally until I couldn’t take it then I just gave up. I’ve given up for a year or two now I’ve stopped caring what happens to me I’ve stopped caring about anyone but even now even after those long two years of nit caring I have still survived. I have still survived, maybe not lived, but survived. Honestly I don’t know how much longer that will last but I want you all to know. I gave you all the signs. I tried all your techniques. All your therapy’s. All your quick fixes. None of them worked so I came up with my own. They weren’t as safe or healthy as yours but they kept me alive. They helped me survive. And I wouldent have without them. They hurt me they hurt other people but in the end. I survived but I never lived so what’s the point. The point is there is no reason to exist unless you have meaning. And when I was younger my meaning was to have a good life and to live. But as I grew older reality set in and I realised those who get to live are the lucky ones. But not everyone is that lucky. I was not a lucky one. I wasent even unlucky. No one even cared enough to put me in that scale. I had to put myself and I would say I’m pretty lucky that I’m even alive. And I’ll take that because I may not have lived but I survived and some people don’t even get the chance to survive. I think everyone should get the chance to. So I just say to myself I got the chance, I was lucky enough to survive I can’t waist that. Even if it’s just one more day I have to survive not live but just survive.

That is the poem I’m responding to

I am still not living, I am barley even surviving anymore. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t, I can’t breathe. It’s closing Around me, I know other people have it worse, I know. But I’m dying, Slowly and painfully, I can’t keep this up much longer, I’m dying, I hate myself I hate my family I hate my friends I hate my whole fucking life. I hate everything about myslef, I can’t breathe, I’m shutting down, I’m gone, No one noticed as I fell, I’ve finally reached the bottom and I won’t make it back up this time. I’m not living, I’m not surviving, I’m barley breathing.

a dove, honest and true,

sings it’s melody at the beginning of a life

white like rays of the blinding sun

showing peace, prosperity, and love

they’re gorgeous, but often trapped

kept in cages, as a price of beauty