Most recently published stories in Poets.
Your time is up, it’s over now. You lost what you had if any all. It’s okay to be afraid to fall. He said "I'll be there to catch you," it wasn't a lie.
By Emily Valdez8 years ago in Poets
I always get lost, I am always looking for the girl I used to be. I think it's because I always hope for more of me than I should, and it sounds weird, but I let myself down. And that made me wanna be another person.
By Gabriela Manrique🌌8 years ago in Poets
Scarlet-tangerine abound the light of perfection, grasp me and my distractable attention, authoring I to let myself fly freely from whim and affliction.
By S R Gurney8 years ago in Poets
I sleep, I eat, I think, I breathe, I stop, and I dream. ...Harsh, yet bleak. Nothing more, nothing less, I'm Bleak!
By Diamond Boubel8 years ago in Poets
If I could see the word from your eyes, I'd say it’s beautiful. If I could see people from your eyes, I'd say they're beautiful.
Rain falls and hits the ground, Washing whatever evidence there may have been away, It makes a pounding sound, The rain may be around for a while, but never long enough to stay.
By Kayleigh Harper8 years ago in Poets
Deep inside of a soul, some might search for a shining, bright light... Some, while searching, find darkness and no light of any kind...
By Anna Christian8 years ago in Poets
I'm that person who hides perfectionist tendencies behind quiet exteriors, to make sure that balance is always there, contradictory statements are always made on when I start describing
By Regan Meade8 years ago in Poets
An emptiness swallows my heart Upon the sight of gorgeous men I fantasize about him Different appearances As he engulfs my conciseness
By HeiressBueller8 years ago in Poets
Despicable. That’s what goes through my head when your name is mentioned. Your name is bitter poison in my mouth. I bet you sleep real cozy at night. Not a worry, not giving a fuck about what you did.
By Jenny Ibañez8 years ago in Poets
It happened again, waking me from the solace of sleep Always uninvited during the witching hour reoccurring since I was a teenager.
By J M8 years ago in Poets
The Honest working Man. I’m a Honest Working Man, been doing the best I can. With these callused, worn hands... I make my pay.
By Steven Baldry8 years ago in Poets
