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 Mar 2019 Candi
Dean
i held you for a night
and now things are different

what changed?
god I'm so confused
 Mar 2019 Candi
marion
goodbye, amor
 Mar 2019 Candi
marion
i filled my notebooks with your words,
my canvases with your spirit

you're in my soul, my heart, my being
you eternally inspire me.

you may be gone,
but i still have you.
 Mar 2019 Candi
Monotone
I'm a ******* coward.
I should have said something, anything.
Instead I just sat here, took it, and tried to hold back tears.
You didn't know you did it.
Probably didn't know it hit me like that.
I should have said something,
but i'm just a coward.
 Mar 2019 Candi
Edgar Allan Poe
Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
  Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
  In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
The night—tho’ clear—shall frown—
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee forever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish—
Now are visions ne’er to vanish—
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drops from the grass.
The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
  Is a symbol and a token—
  How it hangs upon the trees,
  A mystery of mysteries!
 Mar 2019 Candi
Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
 Mar 2019 Candi
Sydney Victoria
I love it when she’s blue,
I love it when she’s gold,
I love it when she’s silver,
I love it when she’s cold,
I love it when she’s quiet,
I love it when she’s bold,
I love it when she’s calm,
I love it when she folds
I love her for her secrets,
I love her for her songs,
I love her for her rights,
I love her for her wrongs,
I love it when she moves me,
When she pulls me,
When she soothes me,
I love it when she’s red,
I love it when she’s gray,
I love it when she’s mine,
I love it when she strays,
I love her for her warmth,
I love her for her stare,
I love her for her depths,
I love her for her care.
I’m in love with ocean. Her beauty, her grace. The secrets she harbors, the life she gives to all creatures. I love the way she holds me & makes me feel free. I am euphoric, I can see her now. No caps because I am truly meek in her presence.
 Mar 2019 Candi
b e mccomb
i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb

— The End —