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We spoke of this last night, yet most people neglect it—- The void, the emptiness, how life is seemingly meaningless but those thoughts fade away.

I try to ease the pain with substance but, as I stare into your eyes, I stand by an earlier conclusion.

The greatest drug in life is good friendship and maybe some poetry.
My 1st poem, enjoy
 Jul 2018 John Mendoza
kiana
the tree harbours her little leaves
grinning as they mingle
and dance about in the warm breeze
one little leaf shook more than usual
catching the tree's attention
the tree turns her branch
as the green leaf adjusts positions
the tree asks 'what is it, my child?'
'what is making you shiver?'
the little leaf shrugs, but replies
'I'm tired of swaying in one spot, sacred mother'
the tree is taken aback; syrup gone cold
'what's wrong with swaying here?'
the leaf sighs, ready to fold
'I'll never see the world, and that is what I fear'
the tree slouched, nodding her head
'I birthed you to love, not to fear'
the leaf felt a tug, her stem coming loose
'explore the world. happy flight, my dear'
the leaf smiled at the news
feeling the wind in her petal
she waved goodbye to her mother tree
as she took flight
in the heat of the night
a little spark of happiness in my moment of darkness.
 Jul 2018 John Mendoza
kiana
we bask in the moonlight
the stars dancing like fireflies
our cheeks lightly glazed
with the tender kiss of light rain
vanilla and lavender
flow through our senses
making me wonder
how I lived so lifeless
you turn to me
the grass singing melodically
'what is that beautiful scent?'
I take your hand, our fingers bent
and place them to my fragile chest
you feel the warmth of my blood
delicately flooding your touch
I say 'it's my heart'
your eyes widen, lips apart
I shift my weight, to lean over
and say this barely above a whisper
'my heart decided that a feeling so full'
'should also smell so divinely good'
late tuesday night thoughts.
 Jul 2018 John Mendoza
BMG
The way you looked at me
That is what I miss the most
Wild and reckless passion
Your eyes were filled with so much love

It didn’t matter
Where we were or
who we were with
The way your green eyes burned me
Always finding a way inside me

I could see every emotion
One glance and I new
Passion
Anger
Love

Even when I made you insane
Maddened with jealousy
Your eyes would betray you
Love filled them when your eyes met mine

Why is it
The older we get
The less passion I see
The less our would thrives off of it

I could lose all memory of you
Grow old with someone else
Spend a life time away from you
Dementia could take over

I know somewhere inside me
I know I’d see your eyes
Forever haunting
Staring at me
My eternal ghost.
 Jul 2018 John Mendoza
Tyler Soth
The one who I long to be,
Is not anyone else,
Truthfully, it is simply me.

A younger me,
A blissful me,
A lost me.

A different person, a different time.
I have grown into a new shape,
Constructed by those around me.

All I want is to go back to my roots.
To feel as free as I used to be.
Simply, I just want to be me.
This poem is meant to summarize the feeling of most of the population, we have become shaped by reality, we have become mirrors. We have lost the innocence that we once felt as children, unaffected by the eyes of our peers.
Sometimes you think you shouldn't care when all around you don't see your pain.
Sometimes all that's left is an empty chair that's all they see not who was there.
Sometimes you think that no one sees any of the life you lead or how you struggle to make ends meet.
Sometimes it's easy for them to say **** it all and run away, maybe they did just that, yet don't understand you can't.
Sometimes you tire of trying to be, the strong one in a weakened chain.
Sometimes you look at my mistakes, afraid to make more for companys sake.
Sometimes you curse being alone when you couldn't leave aged parents alone.
Sometimes you look into their eyes and see you are all that keeps them alive.
Sometimes you wake and check on them, in case they died while you slept.
Sometimes you want to explain your chains to people who don't see your pain, or how you're bound and sacrifice what you crave every night.
A river runs through all our lives where others swim and dive.
Not joining them is a price you pay when you are torn to stay and be a son.
 Jul 2018 John Mendoza
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.

— The End —