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Gloomy
Gloomy
Cisgender Female
Sharing sweat, saliva, each other Naked in body and in emotion, It’s so much more than an act of lust It’s trust, love, closeness It’s the rhythm of synchronized movement The reliance on familiarity And the beating of two hearts as one
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Jan 19, 2020
Jan 19, 2020 at 8:03 PM UTC
Together
breathe in the sea as we drift toward the storm
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Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 6:02 PM UTC
drift
i'm not mad just tired of feeling alone
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Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 1:17 PM UTC
Untitled
more than anything i want to be okay
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
Untitled
Awake your soul dance with your heart hope with your dreams Sing with sun twitter with the birds glide with the water Move with the wind freedom is yours if you'd only learn to grasp it
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Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
Awake
My English teacher says all poems are deep and complex and all poets formulate poems with careful scrutiny over the course of days, weeks, months But I say there are beautiful poems that take hours to write and there are poems that spill over from the heart and onto the page: the poems that we write through tears, sobs, hysteria, glee, laughter, sunshine, rain All poems were not carefully formulated but they're all beautiful regardless
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Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
All Poems
inside my windy turmoil I stand in the eye trying to keep my balance and hoping, somehow, I'll fly
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Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
Fly
The old tree on  Maple Lane stood unwavering on the cold December night that the young girl ended her plight it creaked sorrowfully as the child that once swung from its ancient limb was buried on that evening so grim. The old tree on Maple Lane danced to the rhythm of the wind that glided all about, completely undisciplined it flowered wonderfully as the joyous winter that brought it innocence was replaced with a warm immanence The old tree on Maple Lane had seen so much beauty and so much pain The old tree on Maple Lane was completely beautiful and wise Until it was slain.
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Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC
The Old Tree on Maple Lane
the truth is i write poetry because i dont know how i feel until i put pen to paper, and my emotions become real
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Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
the truth is