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Turnstiles
Turnstiles
I tend to write in the present tense and from the first persons' perspective. / Long story short, not everything I write about is a personal experience.
Missing one last sunset tattooed bodies intertwined Depressingly connected as we built up to goodbye I felt her sorrow beating drumming words we dared not say rattling out the reasons that could convince our love to stay waves of raw emotion made it difficult to stand knocking us off balance as she tried to take my hand I fell backwards upon the lonely beach she laid down and we stared Into forever for a while realizing love was never there
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
Untitled
Every day I wake up next to you, Somehow seems better than the last Just awake Yet I’m still dreaming Feeling completion Within my grasp As this morning begins Where last night ended And together tomorrow will pass With you the future never looked so bright Baring light Where shadows once held fast
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
Illuminated
She was everything I thought I needed, Yet I was everything she didn’t need. We, Two lonely midnight voyagers, Treading water in a sea of not meant to be.
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Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
Adrift
As the sun sets on a lonely city sidewalk, shadows dance while strangers remain. foreign faces passing without a glance in solemn servitude to a metropolitan pace. too much to do about nothing busy bodies yet stagnant minds. empty vessels, so full of themselves socially isolated through a refusal to break stride we're stuck in big city melancholy lost in a grey scale state of mind thousands of people occupied in obscurity always together and still alone all the time
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
Big City Blues
In the still waters of the pond where they used to lay A solitary reflection Mirrors the plight of his pain In his favorite outlet A blank canvas Shes the subject, the Inspiration, She's still the blood that flows through his veins
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Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
Still Waters
falling for me, is like a step backwards off of a pier with cement shoes i'll just drag you under baby while gasping i love you too
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
better off alone
i can write a book on how much i hate still loving her, every chapter dedicated to paradoxical disdain or paint a picture of the void she left using the obscene colors of my pain i can sing forever about the time we lost to the tune of the games we played or i could just get over her but i cant forgive forget or explain
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
paradoxical disdain
If tomorrow was that yesterday, or that morning came tonight if for a moment you could have listened if you didn't always have to be right if she realized the words   Get out really meant You’d love her help if you swallowed more than pills or thought about more than just yourself but yesterday left in a sunset obscured by a cloud of pride and for tomorrow it’s still not too late but you're running out of time
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Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
Ifs, ands, or buts
My love refers to me as an artist I maintain that I just paint as this color slinger simply reproduces the masterpiece her love creates
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Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Color Slinger
i will always be a cup of coffee a little strong a bit too sweet and I can never change her love of a watered down alternative that she prefers instead of me
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Tea