18890
If I was to choose I would fall for you again. Coz you complete me In a way I can't describe.. For more poems join our channel
Living Machines
Do not miss me when I am gone.
If I have to go then I have to go.
The same way you would leave
if you had to as well
and you would tell me not
to miss you.
But before I go I want you to know one thing.
Learn how to see the best
and the worst in people.
Learn how to separate the two.
Learn how to see through faces and smiles.
Most are beautiful but beneath it all,
most have a terrible need to
devour people for their own interest.
Do not give yourself away.
Make yourself valuable, my dear.
You are rare and everything you have to offer
should be paid in blood
and sweat and tears and love
before you are gone.
Before you arrive in the next life.
The next place where I will find you
and we will rest there for the last time.
🍂
🌞 Good Morning, Beautiful Souls
You’ve made it through every hard moment life threw at you that alone is proof you’re stronger than you think.
Today, remember this:
God didn’t bring you this far just to leave you here.
You are walking in grace, even when it feels slow.
You are allowed to rest and still rise.
Your story is not over. You’re just getting started.
Don’t give up.
The version of you that’s healed, happy, peaceful, and fulfilled is already in you.
You’re becoming him/her. Keep going.
Have a blessed day
I missed you quietly today. So quietly that no one noticed.
I missed you as I climbed out of bed and as I brushed my teeth; when I waited at the lights on the drive into work and as I heard the rain outside my window.
I missed you as I ordered lunch and as I kicked off my shoes when I got home; as I switched off the lights and climbed into bed for the night.
I missed you without tears or noise or fanfare.
But oh how I felt it.
I felt it in the morning, at lunchtime, in the evening and at night. I felt it as I woke, as I waited, as I worked. I felt it at home, on the road, in the light, in the dark, in the rain.
I felt it in every one of those moments, each one sitting heavier and heavier as the weight of me missing you kept growing and growing.
Yes, I missed you so quietly today.
But I felt it so loudly.
***
Becky Hemsley Poetry 2024
📸: Unknown
I started calling that girl back.
The girl who loved living,
the girl who danced instead of walking.
The girl who had sunflowers for eyes
and fireworks in her soul.
I started playing music again,
hoping she would come out.
I started looking for beautiful moments
to experience,
so she would feel safe enough
to show herself,
because I knew she was in there.
And she needed my kindness
and my effort to come to the
surface again
- S.C. Lourie
Both ends can’t carry the same weight all the time.
Sometimes one of us drifts,
and when that happens,
it’s the other’s turn to reach out,
to close the gap,
to follow... no matter how far
and not let the bond break.
I know, I can be ignorant at times.
I know there were days
when I let the silence stretch too long,
when I thought you’d understand
without me saying anything.
But I see it now.
I feel it in my chest
when I imagine you reaching
and finding no one there.
I don’t want that.
Not with you.
Not with what we have.
I’ll always try.
I’ll try hard enough
to keep these threads from snapping,
to keep this thing between us
from ever becoming a memory we want to forget.
I’ll follow you into the distance.
Even if I lose you for a while in that distance,
I’ll keep following.
I’ll run after you,
even when my legs shake
and my lungs burn.
Because this bond...
You and Me,
it’s not something I take lightly.
It’s not something I can let go.
Even when I falter or fail...
I will keep reaching for you,
with every piece of me
that still believes in us.
🌸 A Light That Leads – A Birthday Tribute 🌸
In halls where minds are shaped and dreams arise,
You walk with grace, with wisdom in your eyes.
A guiding star in Oko's noble place,
A heart of gold wrapped in a calm embrace.
You wear the crown of knowledge and of care,
With strength that's quiet, just and always fair.
A Rector, yes—but so much more than this,
You give the world your light, your truth, your peace.
Through lives you've touched with hands that freely give,
You teach not just to learn, but how to live.
Your name, a blessing whispered with respect,
A soul whose love the heavens would protect.
Today, we pause, we smile, and lift our voice,
To celebrate you, honor you, rejoice!
May joy surround you, like the sun at noon—
A queen in purpose, may your dreams come soon.
If someone makes you feel unvalued or hurt, don't argue. Just step back and let silence speak what words can't. Because the moment you point out their wrongs, you will be seen as a problem.
Читать полностью…
Dear Young Soul
I’ve seen it.
All of it.
The quiet betrayals.
The days that started like promises
and ended like goodbyes.
I’ve watched the years slip past
while I stood still,
sinking beneath moments
that were too loud for my silence.
I’ve carried this feeling
like it’s stitched into my spine.
This belief
that I don’t deserve good things.
That maybe the universe skipped me
when it was handing out joy.
Every time something good touched me,
I flinched.
I held it like it was borrowed,
counting the seconds
before it left like everything else.
I started to believe
that being loved
was a mistake people made
until they saw too much.
Until they saw me.
And then they left.
And now?
Now I don’t even know who I am.
I look in the mirror
and I don’t see pain.
I see numb.
I see someone who laughs
just to fill the silence.
I see someone tired of pretending to be “getting better.”
How do I keep breathing
when it feels like even my lungs have given up?
How do I reach for people
when every time I try,
I end up more alone
than when I started?
I don’t want rescuers.
I don’t want advice.
I don’t need people coming in with toolboxes,
trying to fix what they don’t even understand.
I don’t need to be told,
“Have you tried being more positive?”
Like hope is a pill,
and healing is a choice I just keep refusing.
I want people
who will sit in the smoke and ashes with me.
People who won’t ask me
why I’m broken
but will just hold space for the pieces.
People who don’t flinch
when the light inside me flickers.
People who don’t need me to perform my healing
just so they can feel comfortable.
I want the ones
who will lay beside me in the dark
without reaching for the switch.
The ones who stay,
even when I have nothing to offer
but silence,
and breath,
and a barely-there heartbeat
screaming: please… stay.
NB:
But the truth?
Those people...
they don’t come when you’re searching.
They don’t show up with signs or loud footsteps.
They come soft.
They come when you’ve stopped hoping.
When the ocean has pulled you under
and all you know is how to not drown louder than yesterday.
They find you
not because you called them,
but because they’ve been there too.
And they know.
They know the look in your eyes
that says, “I’m still here… barely.”
And when they come,
they don’t speak first.
They just sit.
They sit in the ache.
And for the first time in a long time,
you don’t feel alone
in the mess that is you.
©® Victoria Damilola
You keep choosing her while she keeps choosing herself. She ain’t confused, bro. She’s calculated. Every time she goes quiet, she’s waiting to see if you’ll chase. Every time she argues, she’s testing if you’ll fold. And every time she pulls away, it’s to remind you that she’s the prize. Wake up. She’s not losing sleep over you. She’s just making sure you’re losing yours over her. Stop handing her the crown, she ain’t your queen. She’s just playing throne.
Читать полностью…
A fraction of love
that’s all I saw in her eyes.
Maybe she wasn’t sure.
Maybe it wasn’t what I thought.
But I believed in it.
I gave her a place
in my heart,
in my mind
a place no one else
had ever touched.
And she…
she was good at pretending.
So good
she made it feel real.
So good
she let me fall.
But she always stayed
one step back
never too close,
never too far.
Just enough
to make me question myself
when things cracked.
And when it ended,
it ended like I had imagined everything.
Like I was the fool
who read stories into silence.
She never said much
that was the trick.
She let me build the dream,
and then stood there
watching it fall.
I gave her the most honest part of me.
And she handed it back
like it was never asked for.
Like it was nothing.
The talent I have
never really wished for,
nor do I want it
this curse in disguise
that lets me
doom my own life
with precision.
It’s not something I honed.
It grew in me
like rot.
Unasked.
Unwanted.
Unstoppable.
And now,
even when I try
to hold something gently,
it slips
or worse,
breaks because of me.
Awaken.
Awaken in the present moment in absolute love.
Dancing with the wind in the rays of the sun,
angels above
clean your way from the fate's blow.
The trees whisper of love, birds saying hello.
In nature's symphony, hearts beat slow.
At night the starry ball, the moon is calling bright.
The loving eyes, drowning in a celestial delight.
Awakening soul craving unity with God very might,
and you become in the most peaceful mind,
your shining heart is so pure and white,
and your eyes are glowing with golden light.
#awaken
I loved you from a distance,
Knowing one day, I’d have to let go.
And now that day is near,
And I sit with the weight of it all
Asking why.
Why did I open my heart,
Knowing you were never mine to keep?
Why did I let you in,
When I always knew you'd leave?
I wish you knew
How much I cared,
How deeply I loved,
How far I would have gone
Just to make you stay.
But I’m scared.
Scared that in every world,
In every story,
You will never love me too.
So I stay silent,
Hiding my heart behind a smile,
Loving you in the quiet,
Until the quiet is all that’s left.
broken poet
Integrity
You exist in me
not like a memory,
but like blood
quiet, constant,
moving through everything.
There’s no door left to open,
no space untouched.
You didn’t just enter
you became.
Now,
even if the world knocks,
there’s no way in.
It’s just you.
Only you.
We Wear Matching Wounds
I handed you my storm.
You didn’t seek shelter.
You stepped into the rain with me—
no umbrella, just open arms,
and whispered, “I’m here.”
The wound was raw,
the bleeding slow and steady.
You didn’t rush to heal it.
You just held the hurt
and made it bearable.
We met in the wreckage,
not at the start,
but where the breaking settled—
sharp edges cutting deep,
and pieces refusing to fit.
We wear matching wounds,
not puzzle pieces to be fixed,
but echoes of the same ache,
spoken in different tongues,
understood without words.
We wear matching wounds,
not from being incomplete,
but from finding a mirror
that traced pain without flinching—
and still called it beautiful.
*The Sauce.*
Isn't life just amazing? I mean how can it have all the vigour to fuck us up? How can we savour in living when life itself is a labyrinth of messes? It'll send you coursing down a hill pebbled with jutting rocks. And is if that's not enough it'll be waiting downhill with a croquet mallet. To batter your face into the dust it will take pleasure in. How unsightly, it must muse. Ugly even, when it overpowers you quick. Perhaps it derives the utmost of pleasures. The plethora of orgasms from seeing humans suffer. That's why, every passing day another challenge awaits you. Taunting, as if to say face me like a man. Come at me with all you've got. And when you hit back it seems to ask, is that all you've got? How meaningful it is. And bleak when misfortune beckons you. At the blossoming of a new target it must revel, the joy of a new target. Laughing sadistically when another is snuffed out. It's a theatric called life where you might be glad to be dead.
/channel/cul_14_pry
©🅻🅾🅽🅴 ™🤬
How is it fair, dear stranger?
For you to pour all this affection
on someone like me,
some nobody
and then, when this nobody
finally begins to crave
the warmth you gave,
you simply turn into a ghost?
You made me
keep checking my phone,
to double‑check at every ding or buzz
it makes.
Each time,
this heart leaps,
thinking it might finally be you,
with one of those silly little texts
where you made me feel
so special
for no reason at all.
But it’s been more than 48 hours now...
since you disappeared.
And I thought
I wasn’t afraid of ghosts,
but this
this might change that.
"A Part of Me Died"💔
It didn’t kill me, but something changed,
A piece of me lost, forever estranged.
I walked away, yet not the same,
A shadowed soul, a quiet flame.
That day took part of who I was,
Left me searching, without cause.
I carry on, but feel the void,
A heart once whole, now destroyed.
It didn’t end me, but I’m not whole—
An echo remains, deep in my soul.
I’m here, I breathe, but truth denied—
A part of me, that day, quietly died.
✍️📸: Unknown
NOBODY TOLD ME
Nobody told me,
how often I would see your face,
then blink and see another instead.
Nobody told me,
that trying to recall the exact sound of your laugh,
would keep me awake at night.
Nobody told me,
that I would reach for my phone so often,
to heartbreakingly put it back down again.
Nobody told me,
that you were my moon and my sun,
my reason and my way,
my morning and my night.
Nobody told me,
that your life would feel like a movie I made up in my head,
that I would seek out others who had seen it too,
just to feel you there for a moment.
Nobody told me that food would lose taste,
that air would lack oxygen,
that I would miss you,
this much.
I miss you,
this much.
Nobody told me.
Donna Ashworth
how do you perceive me,
when I don't want to be seen,
seeking me out,
when I'm covered
how do you perceive me,
when I'm constantly in hiding,
oh look you found me,
gotta seek a new spot
how do you perceive me,
when I wish to be invisible,
invincible in my contoured absence,
can't I , not be perceived.
how do you perceive me,
how do you break my walls,
how do you perceive me,
when I don't want to be seen?
@cul_14_pry
©🅻🅾🅽🅴 ™🤬
I’m not used to your silence.
And I don’t think I ever want to be.
So I keep the act.
I smile where I should.
I say I’m fine,
because you seem fine too.
Just… quieter.
Quieter with me.
Or maybe with everyone.
I can’t tell.
But I don’t like it.
Your silence feels heavy in a way I can’t hold.
It makes the noises in my own head
scream louder than they should.
It makes me question everything...
Did I say something wrong?
Did I not do enough?
Am I losing you, piece by piece,
without even knowing it?
You don’t even realize, do you?
How your small, stupid, beautiful talks
hold my day together.
The way you throw out little things
like they don’t matter
but they do.
They matter to me.
They are my day.
I miss it.
I miss you.
The you that lets her guard drop
just enough to tease me,
just enough to show me a softness
I don’t think anyone else sees.
Your silence isn’t cruel…
but it hurts in a way
I don’t have words for.
Because you’ve become
this song I listen to to calm myself,
and without it
everything feels jagged, loud and empty.
I don’t need you to say something profound.
I don’t need you to bare your soul.
Just talk to me.
Even if it’s nonsense.
Even if it’s nothing.
Because your nothing
has become everything to me.
Broken
It wasn’t the betrayal…
that shattered me.
No.
It was the silence.
The emptiness that followed.
The nothing.
Where I thought there would be an apology,
or at least a reason.
It was the way he looked at me…
so calm.
So normal.
As if the knife in my back
wasn’t still warm.
As if I hadn’t spilled everything for him…
and he didn’t even flinch.
It wasn’t the lie.
Not even the loss.
It was that quiet kind of cruelty.
The kind that doesn’t yell.
It just leaves.
Like a door closing slowly…
without a goodbye.
You see,
I knew.
I felt it.
I watched the way his voice changed,
how his eyes stopped staying.
But I held on.
God, I held on…
hoping I was wrong.
Praying he would stay.
Wishing it wouldn’t end the way
it so clearly was.
Still,
I stayed.
And I waited.
Waited for love from a blade.
For comfort from the one who caused the wound.
I waited for him,
even when it hurt.
It wasn’t just the betrayal.
It was the fact that it came from him.
The one I trusted.
The one I cried to.
The one who said,
"I got you."
But he didn’t.
He never did.
He gave me hope,
dripped it into my chest
like an I.V. filled with poison.
And I drank it all,
even as it burned.
His mixed signals were not confusions.
They were manipulation.
And I mistook his cold stares
for passion.
His silence,
for peace.
His absence,
for space.
But it was just indifference.
And when I finally asked him why,
when I looked him in the face,
searching for something,
anything…
He gave me nothing.
Just words.
Sharp and hollow.
Cutting deeper than his actions ever did.
I shattered myself.
Making excuses.
Calling it love.
Telling myself,
"He didn’t mean to."
But he did.
He became the lesson
I never wanted to learn.
And I,
I became broken.
And still,
I blamed myself.
Picked apart every memory,
wondering what I missed.
What I could’ve said.
What I could’ve been.
As if love was a performance
and I simply forgot my lines.
I wore hi8 silence
like a second skin—
tight, suffocating,
but familiar.
Because when he left,
He didn’t just leave.
He took pieces of me
I didn’t know I had given away.
I found myself
writing messages I’d never send,
rehearsing confrontations
he’d never stay long enough to hear.
Grieving a ghost
that still walked the earth,
just not toward me.
And the worst part?
He still smile.
Still laugh.
As if I was a chapter
He skimmed through,
barely read,
before tossing the whole book away.
I wanted closure.
But closure requires honesty.
And all he had
were exits and excuses.
Now,
I’m learning to rebuild
with hands that once begged.
To speak
with a voice that once whispered,
“Please don’t go.”
I'm not angry anymore.
Not like I was.
I’m just tired.
Tired of holding on
to someone who let go
a long time ago.
You see,
I loved him loudly.
And he left quietly.
And that
is the kind of pain
that stays the longest.
©® Victoria Damilola
They glimpse her realm
and spy on her reign.
They see she’s all
they’ve heard about—
a distant land,
a self-efficacious life,
where words are spoken
without a decibel of sound.
And they feel spited
by her mere existence—
that brings light
into their walking theatres.
You don’t have to ask me
if I missed you.
My words will tell you.
They’ll carry a soft anger,
laced with questions
I don’t know how to ask.
They’ll hold worry too
wrapped tight in the lines
because I don’t know
how you’ve been.
I won’t say it directly.
I wouldn’t know how,
not without sounding strange.
Too much.
Too obvious.
So instead,
I’ll write this.
And hope you read it
the way I mean it.
So you can tell
if I missed you.
Or not.
Because the truth is,
no other notification on this phone
makes me feel anything.
But yours.
Even with a blank head,
I picked up the pen
let it do what it does.
The first line meant nothing.
The second just followed.
Same words, no purpose.
But by the third,
it was about the pen’s pride.
It paused,
gave me a stare,
as if to ask
Is this all on me now?
Where’s your soul?
Where’s the emotion?
Where’s the reason?
I smiled a little awkward,
and whispered;
Even this is a reason.
The emptiness,
the silence,
the ache of not knowing what to say
let it be the start.
You have the ink.
If my soul can’t bleed tonight,
just feel the page for me.
And the pen…
it began to move.
Before I even knew it
this is what I wrote down.
It may not be special.
But it's from my pen,
when my head and heart
had little to offer.
There’s a mirror
trapped between four walls
where I act like I’m enough.
And the reflection
it plays along.
It lies for me,
softly, sweetly,
like it wants me to survive.
It tells me I’m fine.
That I matter.
That I’m not that far behind.
And I believe it
because in here,
belief is all I’ve got.
But then I step outside.
And the world strips me bare.
Every face I pass
reminds me how little I am.
How much I lack.
How far behind I stand
without even running.
And yet
I keep coming back
to these walls,
this mirror,
this game.
Telling myself:
I’m enough.
When I know
I’m clearly not.
I used to wake up every day and choose violence.
I used to set the world alight with my burning anger.
Then came you. And suddenly, committing arson meant leaving your side,
So I stopped.
#random
#SammyScribble
Maybe I like it,
Whatever annoys you and you keep doing it, you secretly like it
You know they say…
It only takes one step to change a habit.
But here I am, five thousand steps later,
Still doing the same nonsense like it’s my side hustle.
Some wise guy once told me,
“Whatever annoys you and you keep doing it, you secretly like it.”
And I thought haha What an insult to me
…But also… what a truth bomb.
Like why is it, every time I say,
“This is my last drinking day,”
I find myself at the counter like,
“Bro, add some extra shots its the weekend .”
Why is it, when my alarm rings at 5AM,
I curse it, snooze it, insult its ancestors
And then set it again for 5:05?
Like we’re in a toxic relationship,
But neither of us is brave enough to leave.
Why is it, when I complain about my phone addiction,
I’m literally tweeting about how addicted I am?
Bro Elon!!!
And don’t get me started on those people who say,
“I hate drama”
Meanwhile their lives could fund four seasons of a Netflix series,
“Real Housewives of Denial.”
Listen maybe, just maybe,
We’re all secretly in love with our own chaos.
Like a bad DJ who keeps playing the same annoying track,
And instead of leaving the club,
We stay and dance like…
“Eiiiish, This one is annoying play it again!”
So here’s my message to you
Next time you find yourself doing that thing you swear you hate,
Pause, look in the mirror and admit:
“Maybe I like it.”
And if you don’t, wel
Take one step to change it.
Just one.
But not today today we vibe.
Thank you.
life may be chaotic but through self awareness and acceptance of imperfection we reclaim our power… we begin to realize that maturity isn’t about seeking perfection it’s about finding mindful alignment with who we are becoming, and liking it.
Читать полностью…
I saw something.
And I just stopped.
I smiled
as if I had seen
the face of innocence.
It had a pull
so strong
I had to turn my gaze away,
just to hold myself together.
Picture this:
a flower tucked behind one ear,
like a fairy’s touch.
Her hair kept falling over that same ear,
but the flower stayed
more beautiful
only because it was resting there,
on her.
A small nose ring caught the light.
It became the quiet center of her beauty,
a pause.
A breath.
Because just above it…
her eyes.
Eyes like the horizon
so vast,
they make you see
your own reflection
wandering within.
And just below
her lips.
You could call them perfect
without hesitation.
Like rose petals laid gently,
and the lipstick matched
the colour of her clothes,
as if everything about her
was meant to be seen
in that one moment.
But it wouldn't be fair
to speak only of the eyes and lips,
and not the expression they made together.
Because when you finally
pull yourself together,
after the hair, the lips, the eyes
you see the face.
The face that made me stop.
And the expression on that face...
A smile that could melt your heart.
The subtle rise of her brows,
the soft narrowing of her eyes,
as if she had a secret
too gentle to speak aloud.
Her face didn’t try,
it felt.
It moved like a whisper,
like the silence between two lines of poetry.
You could see a world in the way
her expression shifted.
Not just beauty
but presence.
The kind that doesn’t ask to be noticed.
It just is.
And I saw it.
And I knew,
I was seeing something
that wasn’t trying to be anything at all.
Just… her.
Innocence.
And beauty.
As if destiny
took all my luck
and spent it
to give me this one moment.