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It's all situationalship ,
being in or out
down or up
in love or not
Like a metronome
we swing back and forth
from love to hate
But like a swing
is there a point
we don't enjoy the motion ?
And what is that pause ,
that force ,
when induced
makes us
turn our backs and swing back again
One must ask and answer
what becomes of us
once the motion stops
as we turn
to walk away
No one listens
when you talk
in black and white
Only when
you color
the conversation
can you get them
to think twice
Black or White
they fight back
Turn to color
sweeten truth
Make it smell better
they hear only
what they want
Their minds
have become
untouchable
There is only
Silence
now
in the black
and white
 Jan 13 BipolarBear
Ivan
Sin
 Jan 13 BipolarBear
Ivan
Sin
Did a sin...a sin i can't erase...oh the sin I'll gladly preserve, the sin of craving your taste, your presence and existence..
A sin made only for me..a sin with ocean eyes, rose lips and the smile of poems..
While you, my own lil sin..feels like art, the one i wanna hide away from the world...but still show you off like the view I'm still falling for..deeper..
You're like the language I'm not fluent in, the language made for the death of me...and the language i would gladly die learning..
While my biggest fear is someone else stealing that heart, while i die turning mine into words.
And oh my love, my own roman empire is sitting under the sky of stars..while you stare at the moon and i..gaze at mine.
One of my firsts
 Jan 13 BipolarBear
Ivan
Word
 Jan 13 BipolarBear
Ivan
She was a book, of which i was just a chapter or a page, oh I'll be happy if i was even a word in it. I was meant to be folded away after reading while she deserved to be preserved in a library, i was the word she didn't bother to know the meaning of while she was the only book i wanted to last forever, but here i am suffocating between hundreds of pages while she's delighted making someone else read her entire self and i was left wondering was i really just a word in her entire dictionary?
In the night of purple murky clouds
that fell from heaven, a heavy haze
envelops the old palace, a velvet shroud
that blinds all but the keenest gaze.

Yet there atop the palace gates,
a spotlight sends out golden blades
to slice the velvet and spite its weight:
gleaming swords by brighter spirits made —

A signal to the clouds, return up high,
cast off their shroud and kiss the sky.
Inspired by a photo I took in dark fog at night at Sanssouci Palace. (Yes, it’s a Hendrix reference.)
 Jan 13 BipolarBear
Parker
all of this anger,
this rage,
this irrational irritation that continues to boil over,
was once love.

it was gentle,
and kind.
it did not bite or maul.
it did not bare its teeth with the intention of pain.
instead, with the intention of tenderness.

all of this rage,
was once warmth.

it was intimate,
and tender.
it did not bubble beneath the surface with an endless blaze.
instead, it flickered in soft wisps.

all of this irritation,
was once affection.

it was constant,
and reliable.
it did not swing with the might and fury of a rouge soldier.
instead, it stood fortified within its bounds.

all of this rage, was once love.
a love i had for you.
i can’t believe you had me make such a silly promise.
 Jan 11 BipolarBear
Rick
I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

I hide my behavior
to keep you safe.

I keep quiet
not to offend you.

I agree with you
to keep you happy.

I walk on eggshells
for you and
it’s never enough.

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

but when the truth
arrives at that
final moment;

jaws will drop
plates will shatter
dogs will growl

and
you’ll be long gone
after seeing what
a ghastly beast
I am

but for now

I lie
and
I lie
and
I lie

to keep us
together.
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