I'm sorry my internal wounds,
are too damaged for your
to lay a finger on.
and i’m sorry
if my problems
are a burden,
but i have more secrets
buried beneath my mind
than you have lies
inside your throat.
and I am sorry
that I am too much for you.
but my problems
and if you can’t accept
every part of me
you don’t deserve
any part of me.
and each time your fingers
press against my flesh
i wish i was dead
but with each moment
breeds a repressed memory.
so forgive me,
if i must drink
to be able to love you.
for cringing when I’m sober
but the last person
I gave my heart to
intentionally fucked me,
just like all the men before me
the ones who are demons
of my memory,
chasing after me.
the only man I’ll ever love
goes by the name Jack,
and he can ease my troubled mind
and make me forget
in ways no actual person can,
so call me Mrs Daniel's
and put a ring upon my finger
followed by a shot class
and let me forget
about what I wish didn’t exist.
I’ve heard once
that misery loves company,
but what happens
when i’m more miserable
so no company,
would ever actually want me.
misery loves company,
but it remains unrequited.
Love approaches just when you're about to turn around
Giving up or fall down
Love gives you an intense hope and glowing promises
Nods down with any compromises
Love offers you someone who is more charming than the tempting world
No matter how clever the magic twirled
Love cheers you up for no good reason
Caught yourself smiling when Lawson's aired on
Love steers you to whatsoever that is possible
Including destroying something impossible
Love walks off ruthlessly without any remorse
Forgot the way it magnetize you like an attractive force
Love broke off the agreement and vivid faith
Cruelly put an end to something you create
Love shows how life propose something greater than loving a person
Makes you clueless of what to do then things get worsen
Love now seems to gloom every side of you
Minimize your spirits into few
Love steers you to whatsoever that is possible
Including destroying something impossible
He thinks my first name is Sarah Jay
he says it's so pretty the way it rolls off the tip of his tongue
and it reminds him of flowers coming up through piles of snow
He says my lips remind him of space itself
because every time he presses into them
his eyes seem to close
and he's left with comets and Jupiter and Pluto and stars
he's left with a feeling like all that baggage he carries is nothing
He thinks I see the same thing as he
Really I just see black blemishes and red spots
I see memories that should've already been forgotten
He says his home is in the nape of my neck
and if it were possible for a person to shrink to microscopic size,
he'd camp in the crevices of my collar bones,
he'd cut out a house in my jugular
he said It would be an honor to drown in my blood
I'd like to tell him he'd suffocate with smoke
He thinks the gold strands at my roots aren't real noticeable
He wants to see what I looked like before I went Jet
He says when I sing it puts him in a trance
he forgets the cigarette burns his father applied to chairs
he forgets his mother returning at strange hours reeking of sex and Johnny
he forgets that he's even alive
He thinks I don't smoke
He thinks I could really make it somewhere
I'd to tell him that you can't make it somewhere when you are living a lie.
Equipped with a mind of its own. So intelligent, independent. How lovely could such a thing be? Any one can honestly step a foot outside of their own comfort zone and could right away, catch a pretty being out the corner of their eye. But tell me, could anyone right off the bat spot someone with a pretty soul? A mindset of the wonders, so amorous that an aura of bliss surrounds She?
Could one glance, one move or one word overwhelm the physical structure? Can it possibly defy human qualities? Can She, possibly be? One glance, can easily tense muscles.
One move can without stress, shoot these sensations down your nervous system. One word can alter brain waves and deplete your speech in ways that your tongue becomes a foreign language.
Such a thing, such an emotion could not be solved by any physicist nor chemist. No medicine or research can overthrow something so powerful. It’s as simple as can be, but yet so dangerous and no one is immune.
A crush. That’s all that’s needed; so viral and contagious. Once you pass by the She who has this in their DNA, it causes for no turning back. You’re caught. You’re done. You’re stuck with this illness ‘til death. And that’s the thing. Everyone is bound to catch this disease eventually. There is that one person out there that matches your DNA. I guarantee that the person will infest your immune system ‘till death do us part. You just need to wait, don’t rush, stay patient.
If you overjump, you’ll ultimately hurt yourself for forcing your body into this sickness because of just a pretty appearence. It’s false, and straight up lethal. You’ll just know right off the bat when you found your matching illness. Your body will initiate, then your mind will, of course, follow.
Joy, it's linked to Christ.
Peace, it's linked to Jesus.
Love, it's linked to the Messiah.
A person, who influence us by the hour?
A mother, with child.
Untouched, but blessed with pure admiration of God's love gives birth.
Under the stars in the skies above.
A spouse watches the miraculous moment of the holiest night.
A good man blessed with a anointed son.
A life's born with a purpose anointed with love.
Quiet, was the night.
Amazing was the moment of the holiest night
What better gift could there have been?
What better gift?
A presented showering of affection to all the people to enjoy?
Strength, linked to Jesus.
Savior, linked to Christ.
Deliverance, linked to the Messiah.
There are certain nights that stands out in our mind.
But nothing like the holiest night of the year.
Give prayer of thankfulness during the holiest night of the year.
Just remember, all the reasons why?
When I hear the music of my past;
An echo of the person I used to be,
I wish I could speak to it as it does to me,
And tell it notes to play so it may last.
A melody of perfect beat and scale,
Imperfect as I play it back now;
Music then, and broken hearts now,
Still magic of the moment, never fail.
And even with the sorrowful notes,
The change from G to E minor, slow,
And my love for the symphony grow,
As I play each beautiful note I wrote.
My life, is a lament to Her creation,
All the happiness that seeds,
And the sadness that breeds;
It is all true, and never imitation.
And when Her music plays with mine,
The harmonizing ring of morning bells,
Of forests, creatures, and ocean swells,
She rules 'til the end of time, with a single line:
What is hope?
Hope is believing that I can finish the bottle.
Telling myself that I can stomach each sip of wine,
Holding the pen when shaky hands disagree,
Until I finish writing this line.
Just for once I'd like to hear good news when I wake.
Like, 'Payday was early.'
So that I can afford to put food on my plate.
For the next few days, at least.
Hope is convincing myself that I can meet someone,
To whom I can relate.
To plant seeds with,
So memories can bloom.
But if a person like that came into my life tomorrow,
It would be too soon.
My friends and I jam and tell stories,
Into the early hours of the morning.
Anything we can to reach a euphoric state,
I don't need drugs, anymore.
I only want a nice girl to date.
Don't flatter yourself believing I'll think of you; it's farewell to you and your sickness.
Very happy I don't know you and have no wish to ever get to know you, thief of words.
I want you to know, I'm not bitter, it's in a way flattering to have your poems borrowed,
borrowed without express consent of any hellopoetry's author's express permission?
Your bogus claims of being decent, hard working and nice flew out the poet's window,
the moment you took it upon your self-proclaiming thieving self; you are the greatest?
At what? May I ask? From what little I gather, you're alone and you want the spotlight.
Fame isn't given, it's earned; infamous is another matter and none will seek it out.
I've seen many underhanded deeds committed by "so called" decent people like you.
So proud were you(you posted it on a profile) that you are a "movie star"? hmmm!
I've met a few movie stars and none are like you; never knew stars stole poems of others.
You are so proud of being a movie star to those who bought the false illusion of you,
the person who sits, gets pissed and displays irrationality in your illogical actions.
I've been to hell in back; but, not even my ex believes I'm cruel, destructive person.
Not bitter or angry; a bit surprised that an adult in her forties, would be so immature.
I submitted my copyright registration info for my poetry book that's a work in progress,
will submit the most recent ones pending when we received and, upon site request.
I'd like you to know that the moment you upload to the copyright office and pay fees,
you're good to go and, submitting someone's work after they've submitted? Not good!
Could lead to serious consequences for the person with thoughts to intentionally defraud.
Someone tried to claim one of my songs and the copyright office is now dealing with it.
You stole Mandela poems; hoping you read who he truly was and let them be your guide.
What every guy dreams of
What every guy wants
What every guy need
You could have anybody
Why you choose me
Ill never know
But what I do know
Is I'm the luckiest person ever
Because I have you
Because I love you
Because you love me
You, my love
Are everything to me
When I'm with you
My heart races
When I'm without you
My heart slows
And if I ever lost you
My heart would beat no more
Because you, my love
Are the one I love
Forever and always
They must often
who would be
happiness or wisdom.
It is best to allow
His appointed angels and guides,
To choose each path
And mold each person
As He wishes