A freestyle poem of unrequited magnitude
Wake me when you're ready
To whom does his words belong
The value of nobody
Her lips are the color of sad
Christmas mourning freestyle rhyme
Aging like oak and bitter like stout
The cold comfort of nothingness
When everything hurts...
Please stop the pain
Sailing through heartache
After midnight freestyle
Something good comes from all bad things but I can't find one here...
Pain times infinity
If only love were blind....
Bleeding in rhyme and real time
She tried to warn them but they never listen; quick to cast a stone but not on the wrong...
He's so far away now *sobs uncontrollably*
It's cold without his love
Hello excuse me, uhhh sir, no don't go *sigh* (Are we doing digital lovers yet? Plug me in)
Please see me
I don't have anything because I don't have you
Finish what you started...
It's a bird, it's a plane, no it's a micropoem!
Unrequited love number 19,000
Micropoem number 16,000 on unrequited love
I see him, I hear him, I feel him like no other.
Death or love
All woe is me post halloween
Lead me to you
Where do I put the love?
If only I could stop loving you...
I need him. Utterly. In every way.
People always have the wrong expectations of people they never give a chance to know. And yet we carry that burden.
A quote & a photo
Hope is a fragile thing
Some micropoetry I hadn't intended to share but now I am sharing anyway because, rebel.
I wasn't prepared for winter
Banished from his heart
Freestyle midday rhyme about depression and love
An apple a day keeps me starving
We are a modern-day Romeo and Juliet; I just hope we get a better ending, they died... (a freestyle flow)
A poem about triangulation. There'd be zero issues if they were "just friends". But they're not, and he doesn't love her but she's got her hooks in him anyway fully knowing she's keeping him from TRUE LOVE or any real chance of HAPPINESS
If only fingers were used for healing...
I'd wait for you forever but I need you now, tomorrow, forever, in any way but this way.
Nothingness am I
Where do I put the love?
He is everywhere inside me. A micropoem about confusion and worry. And a little bit of love.
Let's carve our names in our tree! 🙂 A poem about togetherness and separation. And how badly I crave his garden. (If you're reading this, I love you if you didn't already know).
Awake to reason
CROSSROADS. MISTAKES. SINS. DEPRESSION. HOPELESSNESS.
I am a wasteland
Island of a thousand fucking tears - depression fucking avenue - loneliness - isolation - heartbreak - unrequited love
A poem about the devil in hell or about depression. Depression IS hell.
They always want the young silver instead of the rare gold.
I need him
There it was, labeled to me - I, the addresseeTrying on lovers because revenge tasted sweetlyInserting the blade ever so neatly -Ensuring the heart was severed completely Burning through dreams like an oil field in the night Running out of fuel and the zest for a life Looking back but never having any foresight Dancing … Continue reading Karma
We are all carrying such heavy loads. A poem about that.
Depression is ugly business... a poem says it's so.
Keeping it real, yo. A poem about depression.
No matter what I do he's on my mind...
To dream a life of pleasure, Reside a world of hell. Demands partial reason, Denies existence well. A star so dimly lit, Still reached the darkest soul. And in her heart he bit, Consumed it, left a hole. © Delia Ross. 2010
We've been lost on the same road Making circles back again We've been chasing all the ghost Who will destroy us in the end Along the way we have passed Pretending each were a friend How long can we last Avoiding roads full of sin What test do we pass Where does the road to … Continue reading Chasing Ghosts
Is there a special niche needed to get through to you? How much time should one have to pursue? You threw down the gauntlets and then you withdrew You said you'd be back but it's clear that we're through I could wait long hours and it's something you knew Feeling something real has been long … Continue reading Through To You
Always alone, what else do we know? We have grown accustomed to loom Universally we stand connected By lines to each other's doom How erroneous to accept The progress of dreaming, The TV is on, my computer is streaming All the world is aglow... © Delia Ross. 2010