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Cindy Aug 2018
Dear poet..
Ever notice how the only way you can understand your emotions is by writing them down?
Or is it just me?

Before I write...
My mind is a jumbled up mess... a whole jigsaw puzzle.
But once that ink touches the paper
The confusion fades.
The pieces link up.
And I can finally see the whole picture.

My soul craves for written words.
My soul is inked.
Cindy Aug 2018
I met him today.
A perfect stranger named Miguel.

He looked deep into my eyes like he saw the whole universe inside of them.
He stared at me as though he saw super novas, star constellations and galaxies being born inside
my soul.
He looked at me with so much passion and intrigue as though my eyes were a portal to things unknown.
His eyes stripped off my flesh...
And through just one look I felt him travel through the wierd swirl of nebula, planets and stars that is my soul.
What shocked me is...
He seemed to like what he saw.

Maybe
Just maybe... This is how love is supposed to feel like

-My Ode to Miguel.
He saw me in the realest and truest form of myself. He saw all my pain and all my potential. He saw ME!
Cindy Aug 2018
Before you, she was full.

Then you came.
Then you came and you slowly ****** the life out of her.

I watched her shrivel up and die in your embrace.
I watched her fade away into complete oblivion as you held her.
I sat there and did nothing as you led her to a slow, painful death.
A very slow and a very painful death.

And now her last beat forever echoes off the walls of my empty chest.

Will she ever beat again?
This ghost heart.
Cindy Jul 2018
You lure me in with a sweet melody.
You sing to me a tune of sweet nothings.
Your rhythm,  so deep, so passionate, makes me let down all my reservations.
I get lost in your music.
I'm singing along to your hypnotic chorus.
How can I not?

But wait, what was that?
New tempo. New melody. New rhythym.
I don't like this new song you're singing.
It has too many broken chords.

But even so,
I'm still singing along to the memory of the first song you sang.
I am trapped in it's hypnotic melody.
I'm stuck hoping one day you'll remember it too and sing with me.
Till then, I shall sing.
  Jul 2018 Cindy
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.
Cindy Jul 2018
She was lost...
Lost in her own self.
All she saw was too many pieces of her soul;
And none of them seemed to fit together.

How do we help her?
How do we bring her back to life?
Who am I? What am I here for? Why am I the way I am? How do I become myself?
Cindy Jul 2018
One wish.
One plea.
consistency. uniformity, steadiness.

But even so, here we are... My love.
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