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ain’t it strange,
how we fall in love with people we do not know,
who do not know us.
with the boy and his dog, each day walking, without fail;
with the dancer and her grace;
with the author and their stories;
with the fighter with her shouts,
her fury always undone,
a bravery which is hers alone.
with the lover and her heart,
her heart falling deep.
with the artist,
their messages, their heartfelt,
their blood and sweat poured out into every line.
don’t we fall in love.
don’t it seem strange to you too.
don’t you do it just as i do.
don’t you love deep and long and hard,
as i try to.
love hard
I'm still thinking bout
you at 2 am but you
fell asleep at 10.
haiku
I'm on the outside
looking in, staring
through the glass with
both hands breaking through.
Nothing is what it seems,
illusions of a
rose-colored life.
They are smiling,
they are laughing,
they are the
beautiful people we've always
strived to be.
But the light that
really bathes then lacks a
pulse;
it is dark and cold like
snowless solstice nights.
What we don't realize is
that they're looking out
at us,
wishing for the skies and
abnormality that we take
for granted.
A girl with glass eyes
sits sobbing on the stairs
we've asked her to leave
but she only whispers back
"I'm not here."
I'd try harder to make her go,
but when I get closer
it is then that I see
the glassy eyed girl is me.
Through the glass,
a confusing, wondrous world awaits.
Full of confusion, corruption,
love turned to hate.
We try to fix what cant be mended,
break rules not ment to be bended.
The truth of it all is that its all outside,
away from the inside where you hide.
I reach out through the looking glass
this bubble of a fixed reality
knowing I am moving galaxies
and speaking to the ancestors
shaping the worlds of generations
some people look at the world
from behind a glass.
and some look at it
from behind the glass of another.
there should be value in this,
but glass is just glass,
and people are just broken wine glasses.
so I guess it’s all the same
no matter how we look at it.
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