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chloannelav
chloannelav
21
. I don't write poetry, I write little pieces of my heart, hoping they will touch yours
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
It's not poetry
I want to be the one to paint the smile on your face Color each day of your life Draw the line to all your insecurities Smudge every tears in your eyes Erase all the pains in your heart And look at you like the most beautiful art With all the flaws in your life
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
I Wanna Be The Artist of your Life
1. We are critical. We find flaws in everything we see because nobody wants to write about perfection, even though sometimes we wish we could just stay staring into that unblemished surface. 2. We are never satisfied. We live our lives upon mountains of scrunched up bits of refill and ideas we gave up trying to express. 3. We never forget. We write words about eye contact made three months ago that we replay over and over in our minds even though it stopped being relevant. 4. We are fickle. Our emotions flash from one to the other like strobe lighting that disorientates us until we feel as if the world will never be still. 5. We are exposed. We don't know how to keep our feelings to ourselves so we'll write them down for you to find 'accidentally'. 6. We are vulnerable. We wear our hearts on our sleeves and won't lift a muscle to fight back if somebody tries to break it because we thrive from the pain. 7. We will never stop. We will never stop feeling and we will never stop hurting, we will never stop breaking and bleeding and loving even though the cycle is endless and we know what's coming next. We are addicted to agony, but we agonise for the art.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
7 Reasons Why It's Hard Being a Poet
You see A person only truly falls in love Once in their life time And once that time is used up There is no more. You can lie to yourself And to others But if you were truly in love with them That love cannot be undone. I am in love. A love that won't go away With my best friend. I fell off The bridge of love And into the waters Where he followed But his love came with strings attached A bungee And he jumped back up And left me sitting there in the waters While he's up on the bridge Calling me up there While I'm wishing him down here And I have no bungee.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
I Fell In Love