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breana-angeline-chua
Philippines The door *bow* I open the door I close the door the door *bow*
I see your eyes, I'm looking front with a heart that aches. I'm still and the mirror breaks my hand on beat with my chest just on cue counting all the rhythms composing of you a piece of my eye slowly drips from my cheek is this it, am I at my peak? you built a person but you left so soon why? couldn't have you stayed until noon? I run, I run so fast chasing your trail I pant till my breath turn pail but I waited till the next you came but to no avail, you did it again and again and again I was hopeful when you came back from where you hid until the last when you never again did with the promises that you still held untrue now I'm waiting for a day a mirror doesn't remind me of you.
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Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
Sight
The strong smell of coffee hit the breeze or the fan Driving it to my smell, to my nose with a plan What a blessing, what a gem To be in a Coffee Shop at 9:30 Am The sound of the chimes ringing, the glass doors swing in The coffee lashing tin, the sound of the songs come so thin How happy the sounds to them In the Coffee Shop at 9:30 Am Friends, business men, students, and fancy women Anyone could be here from hero to villain Where there's peace and mayhem In a Coffee Shop at 9:30 Am The ceramic mugs heat to the touch With the temperature of the air conditioning and such The dangiling of my skirt from waist to hem The feelings I have in the Coffee Shop at 9:30 Am The final taste of cake with coffee, mixture of frosting and bean Last gulp of strong Arabica until the mug is clean Still my favorite place from now and then Me in a Coffee shop at 9:30 Am
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Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
Coffee Shop 9:30 am
Promise means a lot But if they are set broken Sorry means nothing
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 2:00 AM UTC
Haiku
You were my hope, My faith, My love my everything But you never knew I took my chances the chances I can never take back The time I spent trying to get your attention was enough to solve my problems But then again you are one of them I can't believe how stupid I am to fall in love with you But I can't believe how lucky I am to meet you
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Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 1:56 AM UTC
Untitled
When all is forgotten It's like it never happened All we went through It's like nothing to you We went through thick and thin Through hell and heaven But through the things I put you through I guess now we are even We were something only we were blind to see Other people pushed us together but all we wanted was to be set free Wouldn't you agree I'm sorry all I thought about was me I'm sorry I just needed air But I was too selfish to see you standing there This relationship was a mistake begotten But it's fine when all is forgotten
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Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
When all is forgotten
my love is like the hardest level of candy crush. you will never reach it but for some, it's worth the rush. too much to handle, too high to touch.
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Candy Crush
*I like your hair resting on your shoulders like the weight of the world is absent, and when the gentle breeze blows, it simply moves in its direction. I like how messy it is-- there is some kind of order in it, and in this world where solitude is a friend or a foe, you give order and colour, just like your hair. I envy the boy who first brush your hair from your face as you give in to love's first kiss, or the gentleman who will see you comb it after a midnight bath, from his bedside. Or he, most of all, who will witness it turn to gray. I'll always dream of you, and your hair swaying by the breeze. Thank you, for at least, this vivid imagery is forever mine to keep.*
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
I Like Your Hair
It has been a year. Instead of forgetting you, I've spent my time waiting for the day you'll change your mind. People asked me if I've already moved on, and I knew I've moved backwards. Back to the time we were together. I still miss you. I still long for your kisses. I still dream of Saturday afternoons. I still wish for Sunday mornings, of evening meals together, of motorcycle rides to the countryside. **I am still here. My poetry is my witness.**
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
My Poetry is My Witness
I can't believe it I've waited for this moment all my life I've waited for her to break his heart To leave him But why? Why do I feel pain? Why does it hurt? Why am I not happy? Why? Maybe it's because he's hurt He feels pain He's not happy Maybe that's why I can see it in what he writes He still loves her Cares for her Wants her back Or maybe it's the fact that he's  still not mine Or it's because he still loves her Or he doesn't notice me as her replacement, it's because he sees me as a sister or a friend I might not be those things But for me he'll always be ...Him.
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Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
Him
Her soul her beauty her passion Was just the little things there's more to mention She had dreams like ballet and dancing She was almost there but life gave her a ring That ring gave her a man she thought she would love But this is how her dream flew away like a dove 'its stupid' he said All the words getting in her head She was depressed and anxious about his opinion and threat So she hid it from him there was nothing more to say She did it and she stayed away To think he loved her to think he cared to this his love he could always share She hid this for a year or two Until he found out about it from his crew He sighed and got mad Though he truly loves her he always have had So as a husband he did his role And nourished her life and soul
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Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 7:07 AM UTC
Her Soul