#personal poetry

[eighthfloorhush]

✨ yes ✨

I would DIE for you.

Oh— I would KILL for you.

oh—ok… well, I can be love for you.

I would reject the notion to indulge in my violent nature for you.

I would wake up and get out of bed an hour early

to make you coffee and breakfast,

even if I hadn’t eaten myself.

I’d stay—

not loudly,

not dramatically,

just… there.

I would count your sheep as you slept,

and I would hold you so tight

until you felt at peace.

Sure.

I can be brave.

I can fight if it’s my last resort.

But when I think about the way I love you,

it does not make me feel violent.

It makes me feel— quiet

and

gentle.

The kind of love where you wake up at 2 a.m.

just to make sure I can hear your shallow breaths,

lean in closer to keep you warm,

listen for your heartbeat—

a solid drum humming me to sleep.

So when I think of your face

and the edges of your smile,

your eyes so kind

with years of exhaustion behind them,

the flicker of warmth in your voice

when you wake in the morning

and realize I’m still next to you—

your mind a calm winter storm.

loved

held

safe

✨

by-

jm

"inspired by similar pieces"

❄️

[thesufferingjester]

The king you made.

There are moments when someone looks at you,

and without touching a single bone,

they rearrange your entire existence.

Her smile did that to me.

A small, trembling thing —

but it revived a hope I thought I buried on purpose.

I swear I felt the ghosts inside my ribs

sit up like they remembered how to breathe.

Her eyes…

God, they were galaxies.

Not the gentle kind —

the kind that collapse into black holes,

pulling every lie you ever told yourself

straight out of your chest.

And in that gravity,

I remembered the truth I spent years running from:

I was never meant to stay broken.

Everyone before her loved the version of me

that didn’t ask for anything.

The quiet man.

The shattered man.

The convenient, dimmed-down man.

But she—

she loved the part of me I thought I killed.

The one that growls.

The one that refuses to kneel to his past.

The one that rises.

Around her, the lost child in me softens,

but the man in me awakens.

Not to dominate…

but to protect what finally feels sacred.

She rests her head on my chest

like it’s the first place her heart has ever felt safe,

and something ancient inside me whispers:

“Guard this.

Guard her.

Guard the peace you never had.”

Not with violence.

Not with rage.

But with presence so steady

it makes the world doubt its own cruelty.

She didn’t save me.

She reminded me I was not beyond saving.

And now I carry this vow in my bloodstream:

no one touches the peace we built.

not even the ghosts of who I used to be.

[madzmadi]

Peppermint Tea

My warm, sweet, peppermint tea.

It warms my heart like the sun warms the sea.

Peppermint tea was made for me,

like honey was made from the bees.

When I take a sip, it drips from my lips,

and the mint makes them feel tingly.

When I take one more,

it makes me feel warm, sweet,

as if I’ve become one with the peppermint tea.

My warm, sweet, peppermint tea.

I love you,

like the sun loves and cares for the trees.

[livingdeadmxtt]

Please, just tell me you love me. Even if it's a lie.

Just please say those three pathetic words and let me grovel at your feet at the way it rings through my virgin ears.

l am a mutt.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

[serenitypoetry]

Fragility

the label on the box says "this side up"

and I ignore it,

a demotion made in favor of that forward motion

always moving higher on the ladder out of reach

always trying to be better than the process that i preach, and

the label on the box says "handle with care"

and i try, but

no stability made from its glass fragility

the shatter buries shards of what you carry, it's remediary

to the problem that was had before, a simple label misread

still i flee from reading, sitting in the spotlight pleading guilty

[kiki-noir]

Against Oblivion

Indignation overload— it’s brazenly obscene. I’ve condemned myself to a black hole where only the abominable make their beds. All because I distorted authenticity. I made it look like I was legitimate, but I was the wolf in sheep’s clothing, the thief in the night, the mother of lies. How, then, do I come back from this? What penance do I need to make? Is there such atonement? Can I make this dissolve into oblivion? Maybe there’s a way out without reparation. Perhaps I can pull the curtains over his eyes once more. No. That’s how I got into this abhorrent calamity. Candor, integrity. That’s how I claim reformation. I must reconstruct the collapse. I must live with indemnification.

[missmemrs]

"2500 words"

my mouth is full of word vomit theres millions of mistakes i can say to you from my fist of anger the start of your trigger point-blank and shoot something untrue

but the truth is, i have no rigor all this pent up emotion is my devotion i mourn what once was and can never be because deep down inside i know youre free and ill never be