grace-warren - Hello Poetry

I would do anything to be with you, that is true. However there comes a time when I must face that nothing I say or make or impose will allow that to be the circumstance. The thing stopping us being together is you, and God knows I cannot change you. I would do anything to be with you, that is true. But I cannot be with you. It will **** me to move on, but I'll be ****** if I don't.

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Mar 27, 2014

Mar 27, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC

The Conditional Tense

I would do anything to be with you, that is true. However there comes a time when I must face that nothing I say or make or impose will allow that to be the circumstance. The thing stopping us being together is you, and God knows I cannot change you. I would do anything to be with you, that is true. But I cannot be with you. It will **** me to move on, but I'll be ****** if I don't.

13

Absence is presence, but not of the same. His absence brings the presence of sadness, And a presence of sorts, who lives in my mind But is simply lacking In smell In form In wonder. His absence coincides with the presence of my hands, Touching my forlorn, desperate face, In places he might touch if he was present. The dawning of the sadness Upon another lonely absence, And an inadequate presence trying to catch up.

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Mar 13, 2014

Mar 13, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC

Presence

Absence is presence, but not of the same. His absence brings the presence of sadness, And a presence of sorts, who lives in my mind But is simply lacking In smell In form In wonder. His absence coincides with the presence of my hands, Touching my forlorn, desperate face, In places he might touch if he was present. The dawning of the sadness Upon another lonely absence, And an inadequate presence trying to catch up.

13

Malicious and inflicting alas, what Night doth only bless? So dull and bland, naturally augmenting one pale and pining pain. We yearn for a ray which might cast light to the stubborn darkness, ultimately submitting to what we knew and our fathers knew was coming. It is in our nature to deny the shrieking enmity which Night bestows, with our ever predictable stories which terminate with the same dirge. I loved her. And the damning tense in which the line is whimpered only concludes my battle with Night.

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Mar 13, 2014

Mar 13, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC

Night

Malicious and inflicting alas, what Night doth only bless? So dull and bland, naturally augmenting one pale and pining pain. We yearn for a ray which might cast light to the stubborn darkness, ultimately submitting to what we knew and our fathers knew was coming. It is in our nature to deny the shrieking enmity which Night bestows, with our ever predictable stories which terminate with the same dirge. I loved her. And the damning tense in which the line is whimpered only concludes my battle with Night.

11

He takes over my being and I submit. I cry over him, dream about him I let him consume me In my lackadaisical mind, I enjoy it. You could say I wasn't coping, But these fallacies engulf my subconscious, coating my nerves like a drug. He gives me sunlight when even moonlight is shy, I am grateful to his blissful oblivion though I would prefer will, I shall still abandon everything else for him, Only him, My drug, My sun, My being And yet. Do I merely dream these dreams of love?

0

Mar 12, 2014

Mar 12, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC

Dreaming of He

He takes over my being and I submit. I cry over him, dream about him I let him consume me In my lackadaisical mind, I enjoy it. You could say I wasn't coping, But these fallacies engulf my subconscious, coating my nerves like a drug. He gives me sunlight when even moonlight is shy, I am grateful to his blissful oblivion though I would prefer will, I shall still abandon everything else for him, Only him, My drug, My sun, My being And yet. Do I merely dream these dreams of love?

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