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bryn-clarke-worth
American
and this is a place i’ve been before
 and this is a place i’ve seen before watching his chocolate eyes search within the reflection of anything and everything…
 he touched the surface of my conscience, waiting for the ripples to begin within 
 my heart, to begin 
 within 
 the heap of dreams inside my soul
piled there like clean laundry waiting for a 
 fresh pair of hands to fold
but his ripples came with distortion, contortion, it all became dsymorphic
 my dreams converged with memories, my desires converged with melodies
sung in familiar tenor tones, yet a voice i knew not to be my own
 my own soprano theme subdued beneath the means
 of self-discovery
that weren’t really meant for me, fettered to your contrary schemes,
playing out unwary scenes and losing myself in our routines,
 seemed i didn’t mind losing me to find your dreams. and so the heap of dreams inside my soul 
 growing moss and growing mold,
 sprouting negligence for negligees,
 thread bare, left there, lying in disarray
passed by for the chosen right of way… 
 chocolate eyes and hands on my surface skin, ripples, quakes, tremors, shakes;
 my hazel eyes opening to your mistakes. people are imperfect reflections, with our opaque complexions,
 i was not your means, your queen, your pedestal, your play-ground. 
 i was not the place for you to **** around.
 left skeptical by your lechery, your ability to capture me,
 self-identity came much more dearly… 
what i’m trying to figure out is who to be 
 and this is a place i’ve been before
 and this is a place i’ve seen before and it’s 'cause i washed up from the other shore, that i’m. ready. to. break. free.
0
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
what i’m trying to figure out is who to be
and this is a place i’ve been before
 and this is a place i’ve seen before watching his chocolate eyes search within the reflection of anything and everything…
 he touched the surface of my conscience, waiting for the ripples to begin within 
 my heart, to begin 
 within 
 the heap of dreams inside my soul
piled there like clean laundry waiting for a 
 fresh pair of hands to fold
but his ripples came with distortion, contortion, it all became dsymorphic
 my dreams converged with memories, my desires converged with melodies
sung in familiar tenor tones, yet a voice i knew not to be my own
 my own soprano theme subdued beneath the means
 of self-discovery
that weren’t really meant for me, fettered to your contrary schemes,
playing out unwary scenes and losing myself in our routines,
 seemed i didn’t mind losing me to find your dreams. and so the heap of dreams inside my soul 
 growing moss and growing mold,
 sprouting negligence for negligees,
 thread bare, left there, lying in disarray
passed by for the chosen right of way… 
 chocolate eyes and hands on my surface skin, ripples, quakes, tremors, shakes;
 my hazel eyes opening to your mistakes. people are imperfect reflections, with our opaque complexions,
 i was not your means, your queen, your pedestal, your play-ground. 
 i was not the place for you to **** around.
 left skeptical by your lechery, your ability to capture me,
 self-identity came much more dearly… 
what i’m trying to figure out is who to be 
 and this is a place i’ve been before
 and this is a place i’ve seen before and it’s 'cause i washed up from the other shore, that i’m. ready. to. break. free.
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28
In winter air, the siren rings among the leafless trees. The night, it falls too quickly. The days, they sleep too soon. I much prefer the stretched and strengthened days of June. Leave be the creaking bones of snow, Let pass this fragile moon. I much prefer the waxed and wakened days of June. I don’t mind the brighter skies, the holidays, the giving ways, but I much prefer the stretched and strengthened days of June.
0
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
for my wintered friends
In my determination to fly, I have to find a balance between the elmer's glue, which failed when I flew too close to the sea, and the beeswax, which stung more than my own back when I thought it'd made me free. My pride will be my breaking, I'm sorry for mistaking acid for honesty.
0
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
de la Mer et DesSoleils
like a dog, who's been hit maybe one too many times, maybe just once, but too hard i sit at your feet. throw me a bone and i'll lick your face all the while being terrified you'll do it again.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
low
will you marry me? we don't, we don't have to be madly in love. i'll take half in love half is a lot. i promise.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:52 PM UTC
hey,
when i am old and happy, and married to someone who makes me feel safe. we'll talk about you. and laugh.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
so, sarah
sometimes things sneak up on you, and kiss you softly on the cheek and sometimes they just slam you in the face.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:51 PM UTC
hello again, old friend.
breathe, please. summer makes me crazy (in the best way) i'll never again be so reckless as i've been, and that's the truth. a fact. and so my recklessness, my crazy doesn't scare me. i feel like i know my limits. i love. i feel. and i will be okay.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
green grass, sunshine, and kisses by the poolside
what i loved about him               was                   what i was not. what i did not love                was                     what i was afraid i would become.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
fool
you, you are. you are just like everyone else. you are just like everybody else. I want to call do-over. Yell rewind. Back space. Take it back. Because. you, you are. you are just like everyone else. you are just like everybody else. and it was i, and it was me. It was my own journey that mattered. you, you are. you are just like everyone else. you are just like everybody else. It could have been someone else.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
erasure