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These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
sometimes, i wonder
if you’ve ever visited hello poetry,
looked up my username, daisy,
just to check if there’s for you recently

you’re the only person
who knows about it, anyway.
for gabi
Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
That lie is just a crime
It’s meant to fixate
To inflate
The curious mind
The literate kind
Words in a verse
The gold in the purse
Of a creative person

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
Your wrong this time
Its meant to uplift
To drift
Into a person thoughts
A charm of sorts
Letters in a line
All beautiful and fine
To read everyday
Jimi’s grand apology
hidden in the words
In lyrics of his soul’s lament
Mary’s name is heard

The Jacks are in their boxes
as midnight plays its chord
Music sighing whispers red
—  Queen still untoward

(The New Room: April, 2024)
Calm and collected in the cross breeze.
Listening to voices of wind whisper your name.
I pray a day will come.
Where I am to be unbound.

And behind me there is,
Where moon-drops fall from your sacred heart.
Lay the bindings of your soul to mine.
Decaying on the wrought ground.
Pale gleams flutter
upon a lap of fluttering streams
and in a dream, the sun melts
as the moon sets at the end of my bed

Island marooned, the mana consumed,
and with ancient runes a song is stitched
as love is woven in the white of wool threads.
Poetry
Is our humble attempt
To describe
The indescribable.
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