You're mysterious.
desirable aliens

You're mysterious.
You're mysterious in the way that makes me want to open you up like a book and read your pages from start to finish but I can't because you are so high up on the shelf that I cannot reach you.
You sit up on the shelf collecting dust trying to protect yourself from the people who will rip out your pages or bend your cover.
Oh, how I wish I could climb up the shelf and take you down and have you tell me your story.
Maybe one day I'll finally be able to climb and reach out to you, but for now, you're just the book I have yet to read and you're on my list.

I want to make a apple tree,
I want to have different colors and shapes like a rainbow, 
I want to disappear like i have no family while being homeless on the streets with so much talent gone to waste, 
Even if we have talents who gonna bother with it?
We ignored, but we perfect in our own ways.
As the days pass, it's just memories, but we want to have peace.

Mysterious grace
Aug 27

Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door

Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves

Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating

Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer

Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been

Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far

Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive

Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house

Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight

Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing

Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay

Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun

Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet

She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say

Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed

Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take

Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry

Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat

Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair

Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able

Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me

She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare

Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...

Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven

Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Mysterious grace

Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...

It is you...

Based on a dream I had.
Selena Irulan
Selena Irulan
Oct 9, 2013

I have given this a lot of thought,
and soon I will tell the truth,
the girl you see before you,
isn't the girl you thought you knew.
She is shattered like the mirror glass,
and lying open on the floor,
the girl you once loved,
has ceased and is no more.

She is replaced by another Spirit,
that was created after years of hurt and pain,
she was broken and came undone,
has nothing in this life to gain.

Mysteries are things we sometimes
never figure out.
Why do some say the keys to the world
are only love, hate and doubt.

Why are things off limits to some of us
and totally free to so many others.
How can a man love himself only to
end up hating his brothers.

What is the answer to a question that
has never been asked.
How can anybody have a future without
having a past.

Why are so many people out searching
for a tomorrow of change.
When the tidal waves of the human race
are so easy to rearrange.

What are the mysteries of a day that can
only be seen at night.
Why does wrong seem to override the
things that are suppose to be right.

When I read your poems
I want nothing more than to be close to you.
Intimately, not Romantically.
I want to sit next to you
and take your hands
I want to look at the scars and wonder.
Wonder why you do those things to yourself
why it's so hard to talk to you
Wonder why you chose to be my friend.

I want to take your hands in mine
and kiss your palms
and look into your eyes with a reassuring smile
that tells you everything's going to be okay.
But I can't.

I can't because you terrify me.
You terrify us all.
You're handsome and unknown.
You terrify us because we know nothing about you
accept for the scars.
I want to kiss and hold those scars.

I want to not be afraid anymore.

To the boy in the back of the room.
He is quite mysterious
Nov 5, 2013

He is quite mysterious
With words that make him sound delirious
Actions oh so secretive
Its like he tries to drive me crazy
But in the end
I'm far to lazy
For him to drive me crazy

There is no road until I start walking.
I put my foot down, the bricks fall under my feet,
paving the way as I need it, but not before.

Who are these mysterious poets
Feb 9, 2013      Feb 9, 2013

We share our intimate verbiage
Tearful, tortured souls are bared
Ripples of poetry reverberate  
Through myths and muse and fears

Who are these mysterious poets
With whom we write and laugh
Some could be different than they claim
A dark catfish in a poet’s guise
Worse, others playing nefarious games

Shall mysterious friends be trusted
We don’t even know genuine names
Yet, I declare, my mysterious friends
Names, ages, and past do not hinder me
We can hide our facts and our faces
Yet poet friends we will truly be

We’ve known people for many years
Spent hours on trivial small talk
We don’t know who they really are
We’ve shared poems in anonymity
Yet we’ve bled more deeply by far

To all mysterious friends, poets one and all
No need to inspect you face to face
To trust you with my naked soul!

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