“In a world that makes no sense, love is still our only defense.”
BOHEMIAN is not just a poetry page. It’s a place where silence is felt, and sadness is not taboo. We read. We write. We remember each other.
Why BOHEMIAN?
This space began with a poem I didn’t want anyone to read. But I wrote it anyway. And somehow, you read it — and saw yourself in it. BOHEMIAN is for those who don’t always feel understood. Who feel too much, think too deeply, or love too quietly. Here, you are not asked to explain. Just write. Or read. Or feel.
Featured Poem
I imagine a hand holding mine, Wishing it were hers. It never is. Some nights, I’m inches away But feel oceans apart. I call it the hypocrisy of romance: Loving the idea, Faking the feeling, Missing someone Who forgot I exist.
Submit Your Poem
Got something you’ve never said aloud? You’re not alone. Say it here.
