#n.q.q

[poetothemoonshild]

The worst part

The worst part wasn’t walking away, Or trying to forget. It wasn’t when I had to hide your tears, and ignore the blood you shed. The worst part wasn’t sharing secrets, Or being an open book to you. It was thinking I could trust you, After everything you put me through. The worst part wasn’t falling in love, So you could take my place. It wasn’t when you took all my pain, And tattood it on my face. The worst part was not the make believe, You’ve written in the skies. But it was when you forgot, how to live without your lies.

- N.Q.Q

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Timeless

Towers made of promises, Dust made of bones. The time has come to tell you, That everything you claimed you owned.... Every thought had been a whisper, Every story has been told before. And the broken glass on the shelf, Are from those not here anymore. You said you worked hard, For the home where your children lived and grew. Yet you bought it from an owner, Who died much to soon. You smile you never will be forgotten, Nobody can take your place, But you are just a number to society,

And in the crowd just a face.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Lullabies of lies

I’ve seen days brighten, When a curl spread on your skin. When you believed a sun burned you, From deep within. You sang lullabies of laughter, By the silly words you said. And sometimes the earth shook, With your violent words instead. You whispered love and lies, As if you knew the meaning of every word, Yet you never understood, What I meant with “It hurts.”. You seemed to reconsider, Every hollow song you left to sing, But instead you kept lying, Once more again. You filled books with empty promises, Broken trust and forgotten dreams, Because you rather sing songs of lies, Then listen to the melodies of screams.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Writer

She had written words before, Unsure of what they meant, As if they were a reflection, A hidden message she would send. She often listened to stories, That were far greater than her own, And she treasured every single one of them, So she didn’t feel alone. She had written stories, As if Ink ran through her veins, But she knew it wasn’t good enough, Cause all ink will stain. She wanted to become a writer, But every story she had made, Were torn like old letters, So no one could feel her hate. She never finished a story, The reason was very plain, She didn’t believe in happy endings, Cause in the end all ink will stain.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Reflection

When I meet a stranger, I see the many things they try to hide. I can see all kind of monsters, They had locked deep inside. It happened many times people thought I was insane, I saw their eyes widen, When I could describe their pain. I saw marks as letters their notes, Written in bright red or bold blue, Mostly it scared them, How I as a stranger could knew. Some called me a mirror showing them what they hide, But they couldn't be more wrong, Cause a mirror never shows your inside.

[poeticpatheticsecrets]

Butterfly

If I could be born an animal, a butterfly I would be. I would travel each flower, for a human eye to see. I would carry the pollen, create beauty all around. You would recognise me by color and yet not be able to hear my sound. If I could be born an animal I hope for once they will see.

That inside this shell a human girl was longing to be free.

[brokenheartpoetwhatelse-blog]

nothing that's how i called myself for years not because of the fears and requests that were given by me nothing is what i felt, when she said she never loved me back and never will love me nothing i saw when i was crawled under my blanket cause i felt the coldness of my tears as i cried out her name nothing i gave about when i lost her again and again for another nothing i felt as a girl came in my life who did care for me and i turned her down cause i was nothing rather than the same rather than everything i felt everything when meeting her i felt scared and happy at the same time joyous i guess i was joyous when i met her but what do i feel now besides anger and dissapointment that sadden hurting feeling that i still in a way care for her more than i should more than i wanted

Naomi Quintans Quintans

[brokenheartpoetwhatelse-blog]

sitting in the chair of the unknown are you feeling fine if i only had know i wouldn't have shared this smile of mine therapy you are like music to me are you okay look at my scars ask me again therapy you were Always a boundery a souless person i could be give me my therapy and save me from my misery her girl you okay yeah why you seem so sad thats all well you watched me fall that's all falling n purity peace serenity therepy you were a friend of me and just like them you walk away hope we won't see eachother just go away therapy release me from your compassion go away with your missary therapy please help me i am being a useless being therapy once again you betray me only are listening to me therapy thank you for being there for me but can't you see i'm a listener not a talker am not a dog nor a barker i hate being angry all the time therapy i'm not fine