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sundries-of-the-heart
sundries-of-the-heart
An aspiring hopeless romantic, lover of words, and dilettante poet :)
A little game called time; it’s quite easy to play; simply tally every wasted second, till you count your life away.
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
Want to play a game?
Dance with the moon, she loves you. She tries her best to be there, even through clouds she tries to shine, and even your own shadow, she defies. A planet’s symphony is no duet; no static, empty, void is God’s canvas. Varied and mingled attractions entwine it, gently arching nebula hue and define us. Oh, how your electric eyes regale me. My spine tingles with the chatter of my synapses. innervated, and abuzz with love, I stutter “maybe the planets- were put up for me- and you” Oh, i’m free falling now, away from earth and up towards you. Gasp for air ask for you. But the vacuum holds no reply. My nerves like circuits, wires, fray and spark, snatched from my body, in orbit’s speedy, breathless arc.
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Orbital Dance
Each raindrop hammers on my ears, tapping out its melodies, and messages made meaningless by fears. The forest is lost in seas of leaves. And I, perhaps deceived, though by myself, seek message in madness, in random acts of kindness, through happiness and sadness, I, I make up meanings for the sound of rain morse-code love notes soothe the pain.
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 12:03 AM UTC
Morse Code
It’s your head that i want to be inside. making more meaningful memories than every sunset combined.
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Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
:)
If only you were some ill-conceived conceit: unlikeable, unreal. cardboard cutout, replete with evidence of failure, warning signs flashing by like high-watt highway lights, and eyes so very unlike fullerite. Your eyes were sharper than diamonds, and nowadays they cut into me, but I can’t meet their gaze. And you know what they say: that everything looks perfect from far away, and you look real perfect right now... I smile at how stupid i sound. This isn’t a love poem. When i first met you, you were a whirlwind, a new friend, an enigma, and every breath we drew intermixed, condensed by winter’s tricks till we were somewhat inseparable, and every word we wrote hid a smile, every step we took towards each other bridged miles. Well you’re less a whirlwind now, and more an aftermath. I want these words to reach you and cut deep: Love is a dance that takes two and you broke my feet.
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Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
Love is a Dance
Timeworn visage juxtaposed with youthful posture, dark eyes signify a soul gone far from home, and lost. Despite your eyes’ placations the world has cast you off. Your story is a sad one, a missing puzzle piece , a sordid tale of grief: Perhaps deceived by me to find eternal meaning in that infernal hell-path winding through my mind. Away! Away! Save grief for darker days. Tonight sail towards the stars. The ****** blanket voices weave, it covers, but fails to **** you. Cast it off. The moonlit path awaits. The ground is black. The air is white and young. Snowflakes overact for your attention one by one. In a land of characters whose empty voices sow a blindfold of despair: Instead converse with snowflakes, falling for you, in the air.
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Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
To: Wanderer