the ticking comforts me, though I'm no friend of time he steals hours from me second by second entrancing me in an eternal cycle of night and day, night and day making everything feel like a memory and before I know it I'm sitting in an empty room flipping through photographs slightly familiar. I only know they're mine for the fingerprints on the lens
but the ticking comforts me it reminds me I'm here I still have time before the days blur before I'm left behind by time
Hey Holy, I really want to see more specifics in your poem today. Get down to names and specific events and ideas rather than abstract. Right now this poem could be said by just about anyone, aside from maybe someone who was an alien without fingers, or someone without any male interaction whatsoever, and with no camera that has a lense... but all phones have lenses so, yeah, everyone could say this poem. The more specific you can get, the better it will be in most cases. It makes it more unique.
I love the language you're using, the repetition and the development of the idea, I just want it to be uniquely your speaker.
(Lol thanks @Aley! I've just been procrastinating... and the poetry is just not happening easily today! This poem feels kinda long-winded but oh weeeeell)
safety in numbers
2/30
last October you told me it's okay to trade my impending doom for your carefree charm. we agreed that there's safety in numbers so we adopted my sister's fiance and even he thinks we're over worked.
And then I'd shatter each and every morning. while you tried to hold me together introducing me to h3h3, whose videos were so absurd I'd briefly have an out-of-body experience before you'd hug me and tell me I'd have a wonderful day not to worry
And then until 2:30 or 7:00 pm I'd promise myself it was my last day, as my coworkers wondered why my eyes were swollen and my papers were damp.
so desperate for help that I'd find myself enveloped in a stranger's embrace, who'd walk me through my cleaning routine again, never quite understanding never quite listening.
home at last, and I'd collapse before I could see you. but the next morning, we'd trade 'i love yous' again, after the sobbing and panic. and I'd feel ok for the split second that I was in your arms. and I could breath
Yes Please! This is great HolySocks! Lots of emotion, specific enough to feel very much like an individual rather than a collective, good use of grammar and everything. I love this one.
I was wearing a a second-hand cold and you were wearing your favourite personality: daylight. I wanted to confess that I was being too clingy but you only pulled me closer taking a moment to press a daisy between my eyes
I think this poem is really cute and I love "second-hand cold" because there are so many interpretations of that. Either the speaker is sick, they are feeling cold, or they are emotionally distant. All of those interpretations may be relevant to this too, which makes it even more enjoyable because of the different options.
Thanks Aley! Fun fact about that one... I was writing it right before my bf got off work, and I wanted to save it so that I could work on it on my phone later. And I remembered the white thing and decided to try that- I didn't think everyone would figure it out quite so fast xP
tired. people ask me why I fall asleep in buses and airplanes in waiting rooms. I'm not sure why other people fall asleep, but I do when I'm tired. when the wind scraps the inside ears and my arms ich the sideways glances a conversation that I'm not supposed to hear wants to be my friend and I never say no to new friends. but then I can't feel my face and nobody knows why I'm screaming until I tell them I'm tired. just tired. And I wonder why they're not collapsing too
grandma doesn't know you live in her basement. but my sister tells me you must be there from forever ago trapped in the memories the pavement. you make me look twice behind me to make sure I'm not being followed. but you never go upstairs you loom in the ping-pong room watching anyone that goes by. you don't hurt us you don't try to scare us I think you're just curious of who's coming into your home you just want to be left alone. and now that grandma is moving I wonder if the new owners will know
'can you perform CPR on yourself?' is a surprisingly common question and most don't remember the answer, when they're unconscious.
VSD stands for "someone took a cherry-pitter to your heart before you were born" and I'll never forget explaining to my boy-cousin the reason I didn't like going to the doctor, was because they made me take my shirt off and I was a girl
it's hard to explain to people that you need to break ribs if you want to save a heart in cardiac arrest
I won't be back, will I? the realisation that I've already said goodbye without saying goodbye makes my heart gag. and I remember that I grew up there ate frozen blueberries on grandma's bed with purple fingers and eyes glued to the telly. where we sat around the kitchen table listening to stories about relatives that I've still never met.
and then I wonder how grandma must feel- she lived there longer than I've lived. period. saying so-long to a home that's kept you safe since forever has got to be one of the worst feelings
and then I wonder how the house feels cold and empty fabricating reasons why everyone's left haven't I been a good house? it must ask and we'll say yes and I hope it can hear us and I hope it remembers us
So long for now, and best wishes with your new family <3
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