Ode

Lovesick Lament. Winner in Villanelle of Regret Challenge.
I’m slipping—losing track of things you said I’ve never been a fan of long goodbyes Sometimes I think it’s better that you’re dead
By Paris Rosemont2 months ago in Poets
Fire Escape for My Thoughts
I built a fire escape for my thoughts on the back of my mind like a wall, iron-rung ladder of midnight doubts where the loudest worries crawl.
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
The Spare Chair at My Table
There is a spare chair at my table that I set like an altar for the life that hasn’t arrived yet. I put a plate there sometimes,
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
The Risen Bet
Fragment III — The Risen Bet A Poetry Collection by layth: Fragment Archive Poetic Fragment: Welcome to the game. The game is gambling, gum in the mouth, a sniff with noise, a view without a world. Hesitate ,dance like a flamingo. They said on your way you find a beast. Are you afraid? They bet only with paper; I claim a bet a risen one, a hidden joke. I bet on myself only. Am I here?
By LUCCIAN LAYTH2 months ago in Poets
The Library of Things I Didn’t Say
My chest is a library for all the things I didn’t say. ◆ The big confessions sit on the highest shelves, hardcovers with dust jackets
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
Airplane Mode for My Heart
I’ve put my heart on airplane mode more times than I admit, a tiny switch of self-defense that feels like choosing “quit.”
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
One More Seat At The Table
The tree is lit, and the stockings are hung Though this year there’s one less up on the wall * Your absence is felt every day, especially today
By Jaye Ruggiero-Cash2 months ago in Poets
Moonface
Silver is my favourite metal. It is not brash like gold; I like its blueness and its clarity. Circles are my favourite shape.
By Rachel Deeming2 months ago in Poets
The Jacket I Keep for Bad News
I own a jacket just for storms that start inside the phone, a second skin I keep for bad news, heavy and overgrown. It hangs beside the door like rain that never learned to fall.
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
I Did It
I did it. I climbed the mountain of life and made it way up high. Thanks to the man upstairs I can stay up high. A mob of life came my way but it couldn’t run me down.
By Joe Patterson2 months ago in Poets
The Sink Where Arguments Go Cold
Our kitchen is a harbor where the dishes learn to drown, a coastline built of chipped white cups and forks that face me down.
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
The Calendar That Never Learned My Name
The calendar hangs smug and flat, a grid of bossy squares, Each little box is a rented cage for sanitized affairs. It circles dates in lipstick red and calls them “must” and “should,”
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets