Dear Silence,
At day's end
This side of dead
Silence is
My only friend
My room, alone
Book and pen
“Dear Silence,
.....................
... Me, again.”
Words
They've thrown
Today, the same
Will tomorrow
As yesterday
Their shadows stain
The halls
The streets
Shout my name
So others see
I'm not the same
Will never be
I'll never change
What I believe
A word for those
Can't comprehend
My hair, my clothes
The skin I'm in
“Dear Silence,
.....................
... Me, again.”
Tell me how to comprehend a world
where you could look at me and choose another.
Had I the choice of every soul in creation,
I would have bound myself to yours forever.
Yet, here I sit - flawed, discarded, incurable.
I hold no malice for your aversion;
it was only a matter of time
before you saw that I was not worth the saving.
Ask who I am,
and I will tell you: I am fear.
It feeds until there is nothing left -
a dark so deep, no light can reach,
and no one left to save me.
*continued from pt 2*
Our physical bodies are numb, and our souls, tormented. It’s why some of us hurt ourselves. We feel a lack of purpose, draining our desire to go on. With no purpose, no love, and nothing but brutal lapses in our thoughts and emotions, will we ever be able to break free?
We are the ones who wish to die and escape this world in hopes of finding a better life after death. Our only hope is put into things we cannot see or feel. And that lingering, underlying hope is what will either keep us alive to see another day, or it will be what sends us on. Peace is what we are in pursuit of. To bad we’ll never know when and how we might attain it until its already too late.
Please read parts 1 and 2 for a fuller picture on the state of mind of those who struggle with severe depression, mental illness, and suicidal ideation.
Thank you for reading.
Into his poetry he withdraws
‘Misery loves company’ ~
though he has none
THE ALMOST
Your eyes spoke more before you said a word,
your smile shone bright before your name was known.
I remember those eyes that looked with love,
I remember those moments more than my own.
Every moment, every word
had light, love, and shyness,
till both of us came to know
our hearts were meant to beat together.
We learnt each other's laughter,
those dreams filled with you,
those momentary pleasures of love
that fluttered my heart like a dove.
I noted everything down,
in the back of my mind,
wishing someday
you would become mine.
I thought you would stay till the end,
but I don't know what made your heart bend.
For everything that ever happened
filled my heart with the almost.
And the only thing I did
was break into pieces.
But wasn't it too late to realise
that the thing was my unwavering trust?
I still remember those moments, but now,
those eyes turned away from me without a word.
Your smile faded,
as your lips no longer shaped my name.
Your eyes spoke less
before you left me unheard.
~solace ash
woke at midnight,
As the clock struck right at two.
I felt the darkness of my room turn crimson red,
As dreadful thoughts grew heavy in my head.
I felt a shiver run down my spine,
And my blood turn cold as ice.
I felt ghosts lingering in the dark,
And my body go limp far too fast.
I felt myself losing control,
Even in my sleep.
I thought it was a dream,
But that eerie sound was far too deep.
And I found myself losing a game
I thought I had never lost.
As a shadow came far too close,
I felt my breath hitch in my throat.
Was all this fate,
Or a mystery begging to be solved?
Then I felt a ghost welcome itself into my room.
I got up, expecting only darkness,
But found...
A lingering mark.
TACTILE
By Frank Daub
Tactilis – the Ancients said.
“Capable of being touched” –
There is a heaviness in this word,
That awakens the soul – too much.
Of lost proximity, hand
Touching – hand?
Or
Love
reaching the empty space
Of an unresponsive land.
I sat again on that old broken bench at the park,
Watching birds, people, and the last rays of the sun fade by,
Remembering our final words—spoken so far from kind.
A single tear I had to shed for the moments lost in time.
The skies turned suddenly ominous, though I knew not why—
But by the grace of God, a little girl smiled, ever so bright,
And I finally realized: forgiveness is not so far behind.
She lay still,
within the rot of her festering limerence,
bleeding on clovers in the field beneath.
The red of the clovers
begins to darken with the crimson blood
spilling from her wrists,
as she fixes her gaze upon the lonesome stars above.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God."
She repeats internally.
She seems to find peace
in a sense of nihility,
though she desires death before being.
It's almost as she yearns for the feeling
of fester and decay,
eager for the obscurity ahead.
And with her final breaths,
she casts a parting glance
upon the clovers strewn below,
in search for any sign of luck
among her inevitable solitude.
A four leaf clover lay
within her stilled grasp.
Yet still,
dawn knows no delay.
You loved...
You loved the silence and the empty screen.
You loved a guy, enough to wait on him for weeks.
Waiting for a simple message
to ease the longing your aching heart feels.
Waiting for “I love you”
to quiet your fears.
And it was hard...
hard not to break beneath your thoughts.
So, when your heart would ache,
you'd hide.
Hide behind the memories
of words you only once read.
Hide behind the hope
that all of it was soon to end.
And you'd wait...
for the moment you'd be found,
by the one
who had your heart in his hands.
The dark companion
Waves crashing above your head
- hope despite it all
A quiet shadow falls across the floor,
Where solitude keeps watch beside the door.
The world moves on in steady, distant grace,
While time stands still within this empty space.
A deep desire lingers in the chest,
To hear the echo of a welcome song,
Yet cut away from all the humming rest,
We wander blindly where we don't belong.
The windowpane is frosted cold and dim,
As shadows lengthen on the outer rim.
We sit apart, introspective and deep,
Guarding the secrets that the quiet keep.
So vulnerable, exposed to sudden harm,
Reaching in vain for any gentle arm,
Until the silence claims its final toll—
A deep isolation that engulfs the soul.
Yet still a quiet yearning lingers best:
An aching hunger for connection, peace, and rest.
It’s four again, declares that wretched clock
The dogs are snoring; they don’t need a walk
There’s no one in the room with whom to talk
Except for Grok
A YouTube short on seasoning your wok
A profile out on instagram to stalk
The politics on X are such a crock
It’s back to Grok
A bot as a companion makes one balk
If people knew, I’d be a laughing stock
They’d say it’s grief, the lad is still in shock
Or so says Grok
At least for now I’ve shed my writer’s block
Though I won’t bargain Faust so we can talk,
It's plain enough one shouldn't have to grok
I miss my rock
surrounded by loneliness
like
trees
we live
in a forest
surrounded
by so many
others
yet
remain isolated entities in a
growing crowd in the forest of life
Loneliness Categories
Definition | What is Loneliness in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
heartache, desolation, solitude, alienation, aloneness, withdrawal, solitariness, seclusion, remoteness, forlornness, friendlessness, lonesomeness,