that* (pronoun)
\ˈthat, thət\

used by the misunderstanding to describe the depth of thought and/or emotion experienced by the reader upon reading poetry that has been ripped directly from the author's soul

Anxiety is funny, if I’m going to be honest. Because you work so hard to not focus on whatever causes your anxiety that in the end, you’re really doing yourself a disservice. You end up focusing more on the anxiety- or it’s cause- that it’s counterproductive. And none of the tips you find online really help so you try to find your own methods, but let’s be honest. The only way it’s stops is if you have someone say “it’s okay”. And then you feel like you’re just annoying the person by having the same worries over and over and over again. So you, again, start trying to find your own methods. And again, you realize that it’s the outsider comfort that really helps. And then you start to feel helpless because you feel you’re becoming too dependent on the person, and you have no idea how long your anxiety is going to go on for.

And then, five minutes later, you calm down and think “what a silly thing to be worried about”. And that’s when you know you have a problem- because if it was something that warranted worry, it would start the cycle again.

and YOU watched

me as i looked

so small

standing

under

the twinkling night

sky

catching shooting

stars on my

toungue,

wishing

that this

night

would

go on

forever

like the endless diamond

sky

that YOU

kissed

me under,

the moonlight

casting a faint

glow

on YOUR breathtaking

face

as YOU

promised

to love me

forever,

the same

moonlight

illuminating

a trail of

tears

sliding

down my

cheeks

as YOU

break

that promise,

break

my heart.

YOU

told me

YOU

would give me

a star

to wear

on my left

finger,

and that

i had a

smile brighter

and more beautiful

than

saturn's rings,

and now i

watch

YOU walk away,

leaving me

alone

under

our moon.

YOU told me

i was YOUR

everything,

and now

i am

merely

another star

in YOUR

ever expanding

galaxy.

I doubt I will be eaten by a Great White
I do not live in South Africa or Australia
and the two great water bodies just down the road
the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean are too cold here for that kind of shark.
I doubt I will die of thirst, or from hunger.
No wife will have me killed for the insurance money.
I will not be killed in a failed space mission, or crash a plane into a mountain.
No, my death will be quite ordinary, run of the mill, nothing to write a poem about.

pack up your clothes
remove your scent
this bed can be remade
this heart will be unbent

6am mornings
With little to truly say,
so let's lie here waiting
For the sun to slip away.

HelloPoetry Blessed us all , no matter where we live.
I am truly Blessed by each and everyone alike here.
There are so many here on this here site that I am thankful for.
Sally Bayan, Mike Hauser, Iamdaisie, Olivia Kent, Wendy Ronshausen,Brandon Nagley, Earl Jane, Rachel Sia Jane Lloyd, Lydia Monet,Neil Aranda, Mark Cleavenger, Ann Marie Johnson, Melanie Wilson-Herring, Mike Essig,  **** Paz Its Gonna Make Sense.
PrttyBrd, Vicki Bashor, Kripi Mehra, Willyam Pax, Poetess Bhumi, Kelly Rose.
Elizabeth Burnettge, Toni Pugh, Paul Champman, David Lewis Paget.
Ryn, Sean Scibbles, Aurelia, Kim Johanna Baker,Yasaman Johari.
Lady RF,Crazy Diamond Kristy, Weeping Willow, Alyssa Underwood.
MydstopiA,adhi das, South by southwest, Petal, soulsurvivor.
reformdancerecover,Ashly Kocher, Mack, Travler, Randolph Wilson.
Plus many more whom are very special indeed whom did not make this poem love you all in Christ.