Mental Health

Night Shift at the Heart
When daylight clocks out, worries badge in. I punch the timecard under my skin. The factory hum of breath begins. And I run the night shift—repairs and spins.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
The Power of No Expectations
Any relationship is more comfortable when you release expectations. As is often attributed to Shakespeare, "Expectations are wounds."
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing3 months ago in Poets
Snowfall. Runner-Up in The Sound of First Frost Challenge. Content Warning.
You crumple beside me— // yet, you do not dare peer at the crimson clotting our creases. // The silver wind. It howls around us—blistering—
By Corvus3 months ago in Poets
What Remains
It waits in the darkness of my eyes, A restless shadow burning just out of reach. My choices haunt me in their cruel reprise.
By Emilie Turner3 months ago in Poets
Affiliate to the Blues
The blues called, and I answered not with apology, but with cadence. This is not a song for politeness. It is a dispatch from the mythic edge, where care is not weakness, and trouble is sacred. I grew up listening to the powerful voices of women before me, who shared their truths through worn microphones and with proud, unyielding spirit. Janis, Big Mama, Bessie did not whisper. They roared.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 months ago in Poets
Kisses with Their Shoes On
Your mouth arrived like airport gates—announcements, hurried light— A kiss that kept its laces tied, already late for the flight.
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
The Deep Divorce
There is a deep divorce in my heart The two parts of me Once together Now drifting to some destination I’m not sure about.
By Archery Owl3 months ago in Poets
I am who you say I am . Top Story - November 2025.
I wish I could say I finally let go. I wish I could say you’re words don’t put a dent in my soul Here I am, sitting here.
By Cerina Galvan3 months ago in Poets
Abstract. Content Warning.
you left me with them my vile thoughts, ever dark I bleed on the floor you left me with them the dead dreams of our ardor
By Sir Contra3 months ago in Poets
She Said Goodbye, What If Tomorrow Never Comes?
She stood at the window, tracing the horizon where the plane had vanished into the pale blue. The city felt smaller now, like it had shrunk in the absence of her laughter.
By Melanie3 months ago in Poets
How much?
How much are you going to make from it? How much is it going to take? How much sleep, how much soul, how much sanity Before they say… “now that’s a living.”
By Marvelous Michael3 months ago in Poets
Hard inheritance.
my mother’s hands are cracked like drought season, lines that split into stories she never wrote down. stories told in oil-splatter scars,
By Marvelous Michael3 months ago in Poets