I am tired in ways the sun can never warm, bones humming like streetlights that never turn off. They call it resilience and strength
By Cadma5 months ago in Poets
Dear Moon, old lantern nailed into the sky, I write at last and wait for your reply. You’ve watched empires crumble into dust and stone,
By Milan Milic5 months ago in Poets
The Soft Apocalypse The world did not explode on cue or split along its spine; It frayed in little tender ways—like yours and sometimes mine.
When Mirrors Blink Some mornings, glass forgets my face and gives me someone new— a version half a frame to the left, a shade the wrong-hued you.
Cathedral of Cracks My heart was never marble, never spotless, never sure; It’s brick and plaster, rent-controlled, resistant, and half impure.
I was born twenty years too late to save a woman already unraveling. the apparent and ignored firestorm I came into the world a decade after the warning signs,
Letters to the Unsent I’ve written you in weathered ink and drafts I never name, in subject lines that start with truth, then backspace into blame.
Hands Full of Weather I wake with thunderstorms in wrists, with drizzle in my knees, a barometer behind my eyes that never quite agrees.
Tell me, did you show your face at night and smile the hours away, or, likely as not, avoid the light for blemishes on display?
By Will Ruha5 months ago in Poets
Quiet Like Fire You thought that strength was thunder—fists, a storm against the door, A battle cry on every breath, a boot across the floor.
The Deep Thinkers Who Breathe Through the Storm Part Two An Outstages Cafe They speak in sparks, not shallow streams,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 5 months ago in Poets
Sometimes keeping to yourself isn’t the worse thing ever. Maybe the solitary life is really better. It’s scary at first. There’s no one but you around.
By Joe Patterson5 months ago in Poets
