Prose

Permission
Must I ask to breathe? Must I ask to be left alone, in my own space? In my own silence, in my own stillness? Why does love feel like war? Like I have to defend my peace, From the very person who claimed to bring it. Why does affection feel like obligation, wrapped in guilt?
By Peace Oputa9 months ago in Poets
5/1/25
I sit here hugging the ocean And yet I hold nothing Choking on tears of fear Of futures lost Was it just a stepping stone
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
Omer 17 - snapdragon
Questions compound as experiences expound; forgetting, as we traverse down the stalk, what we are made for, what we search for.
By Chaia Levi9 months ago in Poets
What Grief Sounds Like.
Grief isn't polite. It doesn't call and let you know it'll be dropping by. It doesn't knock when it shows up. But music-music opens the door and allows it in. My grief playlist isn't beautiful. It's not polished or uplifting. It's raw and tears at the wounds. It helps me to the one thing I'm always afraid to do: feel the grief.
By April Kirby.9 months ago in Poets
A love letter to everything I have survived
Darkness in its deepest sonder, desolation in its truest bareness, all embraced my shattered skin, Enclothed in the tightness of survival, the light that belied in its invisibility propelled me to keep my hope akin.
By Hridya Sharma9 months ago in Poets
The Fall Of Gareth
And so it came to pass ordained by fate, begun in such glory, that the acts of one altered the course of great Britannia.
By Matthew J. Fromm9 months ago in Poets
Forty years old
Standing at the threshold of forty and looking back, all the stumbles and falls of the past have turned into the rings of life. Looking forward, the road ahead is still full of infinite possibilities. Forty is not the end of youth, but the beginning of another kind of youth.
By Luna9 months ago in Poets
Cigarette
Is this smoke? This isn't smoke! This is a solace for exhaustion, a refuge under pressure, the quiet early morning when night falls, the only spark that lights up in the dead of night, the past that can be recalled, the orchid blooming in nicotine.
By Luna9 months ago in Poets
Get used to your "indifference"
The best relationship between people is one where there is no connection at all. A relationship that is neither too close nor too distant is suitable for any emotion, because getting too close to anyone will be a disaster. Human nature is something that cannot be expressed, studied or verified!
By Luna9 months ago in Poets
A Day With Grief.
When grief comes for a visit I leave the door open wide because in my love I was loud and in my grief I will not hide. I'll pour us a cup of tea and we'll gather out on the porch.
By April Kirby.9 months ago in Poets
Grief of separation
Do you have any medicine for the grief of separation...? Dear Bulb, your sick. Have you heard or not...? The one who came, has he taken the heart or not...?
By WAQAS AHMAD9 months ago in Poets
Memories of Washday Adventures
Back in the day We, the children, were assigned washday chores Simple chores like hanging clothes on the clothesline But to children, no chore is simple
By Wanjiru Ciira9 months ago in Poets