#bittersweet poetry

[env0writes]

Deciding Embers Vol.4, 12.14.23 “Umbra Moon"

To taste the gentle moon Sweet luna, lunaris, is this moonlight sickle sickly sweet Are we truly never to meet Sweet umbra, gentle night, I whisper love to you, listen soon What number, am I to queue? Questions plentied, emptied in the eve Grant me reprieve There is always loss, for words, for you May my hands scoop puddled reflections in the pond Muddled with blood and memory Clear enough still to see Content; is what I must be when your reach is beyond Always such a glimmer, as hope, spotted sore For loving you is worth the stains, no more

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @mynamemeanscloud

[transcendragon]

Time for a Poem

Summer sweat stings along half-healed scars,As the heat curls up on my skinWinter may have its majesty,But summer has my heart.It, too, is dismissed as a simple, shallow thingI can feel from the thickness of the air and the cooing of the late night owl,That is not true.Summer brings out what’s within us,Forcing us to bare skin,Pulling out love and rot bothWith the restless heat.Stolen kisses and…

[candy-colored-misery]

and im alone again

under the same soft lights we said our first I love yous to each other,

and in moments like these,

I never thought I would be alone

crying and left in my room

still hoping for the arms of comfort to reach me.

I'm scared it'll never be.

[dandelionsinthepavement]

for atlas (i miss you, dearly)

Moonlight reflections on water, stars in the sky, silver coloured eyes, a push and a pull, it's magnetic

step onto the ledge and whisper your dreams to the clouds, twirl in the rain and hold me close

notes passed between classes, whispers of words unheard to the world, astronomy books piled in the corner

a hopeful glint in your eyes, your teeth bared wide.

a familiar black cat across the street, your hand in mine a promise to stay, a memory to hold, your voice, a million years away.

[chrisshields18]

Victory

A true winner, knows, how to accept victory, and defeat. 

They don’t, spend time making excuses, on the narrative, because the narrative, is pure.

But, you have losers, corrupting, the narrative, making the whole world bitter, because they can’t stand the taste of something sweet. 

It’s something like bittersweet poetry.

[nobodysprobablysimplethoughts]

i want to be real and vulnerable with you but i am scared of being known deeply, of giving you the ability to cause me hurt

[emilbh]

bittersweet symphony - the verve / unknown / the civil war - anne sexton / sun bleached flies - ethel cain / unknown / head of a young girl - jean baptiste greuze / @avainblue / sun bleached flies - ethel cain

[aeneaslament]

from eros the bittersweet by anne carson

poem by sappho

[autumnsunshine10]

Dovetail

Take me through your sky

Bittersweet mourning dove

All you do is coo

Beyond storm-swollen clouds

Soaring into sapphire blue

Bittersweet mourning dove

I'll always mourn you

[thepretzelmemos]

I look on my phone

It’s the last day of November

Maybe it’s not the last day of suffering

Not even the last day of mourning

But it’s a new month to start on myself

A new month to cherish with

My beloved friends

[litandlifequotes]

When you are falling in love it is always already too late: dēute, as the poets say.

Eros the Bittersweet by Anne Carson

[prizmpaws]

something about hands and love (a web weaving about a dnd npc)

[a-dreamersjournal]

In the silence of December.

11:30 PM, December 1st.

The beginning of the end.

Most people start counting down to the new year on New Year’s Eve, but my countdown has already begun. My clock—or rather, my heart—is racing, the ticking growing louder, like a drumbeat marching me toward the end. I need to hurry, to capture what remains of this year, to salvage its scattered fragments slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

Time to lay my heart bare again, to place it on the table and dissect it. To search for the reasons why it still hurts—why it never stopped hurting, not once, all year long. What was I seeking so desperately? What was I chasing after with such fervor?

What was my purpose? What was my excuse for trampling over my own feelings, over and over again? Tell me, December, why are you here already? Isn’t it too soon for you to arrive? Aren’t you a few months early?

Where is my August? September? October? They vanished like whispers in the wind, their promises trailing off into nothingness. And November—where, oh where, did November go? The months I counted on slipped away like autumn leaves, leaving me bare.

Where are the moments that were supposed to mend me? Didn’t you promise me last year? Didn’t you say that when you returned, you’d greet me with warmth and a smile?

Instead, December, you knock at my door like a thief in the night, cold and unyielding, stealing what little hope remained. You, with your frosty breath and quiet whispers, have taken so much.

But perhaps you’ve given me a gift as well, the gift of endings—a chance to start anew. Tell me, December, would it be okay if I slowed down for a moment to catch my breath? To inhale the brisk, cold air and let it soothe my racing heartbeats?

If I surrender to your eerie silence and stillness, would you become gentler? If so, then please, hold me. This time, instead of grasping at the invisible hands of time, I will release my desperate need to control the ticking needles of an everlasting clock.

And I’ll carry your chill as a reminder, engrave it deep within my heart and soul, to remember that perhaps the missing months weren’t lost, but resting beneath the snow, waiting for me to unearth them—waiting for me to embrace them unconditionally.

For December is winter’s lullaby, and after the frost comes spring. And so, I will wait—patiently, with the quiet hope that renewal, though distant, is never too far off.

[candy-colored-misery]

but it was distant like the memory of me,

like when your mother held your hand in the field of strawberries as a child for the first time

and hearing your grandmother sing her favorite song to you to stop the tears

it was not all for nothing, stealing glances into abandoned houses that held nobody and nothing anymore

nothing is ever truly wasted, not even my memory

or yours as well for that matter

just make the best of it as a child would

wouldn't you know the feeling?

[celestialpoems]

Our dancing will inevitably stop but I will cherish this memory that we have made

[memoriesofthingspast]

💃sweet-bitter songz 🌈