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...
somehow you could empathize with every other woman
left and right but not me,  not my eyes or the way i walked

or even tried to be warm in this wintry desolate situation
left and right but not here, i left and perhaps it was an angel

that carried me purposefully away
 6d Dency
Reece
In her eyes, he saw the sea,
A mighty ocean staring back.
When she told him she wanted to leave,
He could feel his heart crack.
When she said that it was over,
Felt like he was swimming underwater.
He thought he would drown,
All this pain, hidden behind a frown,
As he sank deeper down.
In his eyes, she saw defeat,
Not to mention all the pain.
When she told him she wanted to leave,
She ignored the rain.
When she said that it was over,
She took the first step out of the water.
She wasn’t going to drown,
She was tired of sinking down,
Even if she had to make him frown.
No amount of therapy,
Could save them from the raging sea…
Some relationships just don't work...
I found my salvation in paradise
Sitting in sand under trees
Overlooking the ocean at sunset
My heart washed away by the seas
I’ll never give up or surrender
And I listen for soft melodies
To lift up my spirit from nothing
And to forget about old tragedies
My actions came under some scrutiny
So I got up and started to leave
It was then I remembered my mantra
Which helped put my mind back at ease
Never give up or surrender
I’m sure everyone would agree
That this is indeed a good mantra
And this is the right way to be
i wonder
   how long
it takes to rest
   before a sliver
summer
   must be
given into
  why can't kindness
be enough
.
i keep a wrapper
tucked in the corner
of my wide-leg
jeans with a little
offering: a small
keychain dream
i can hang
from pair of keys
...
i knew the wind blew too strong
in your direction, that it took and kept
taking from you, i did not want to pry

i knew the worst boiled different
from the last and this one bent
your vision, and blew out your lamp

in you i knew, there was a soft hand
i tried to remember this after each reproach
that there was that friend, that man

i loved somewhere in the midst of that night
i knew i couldn't do it right, but i tried
The poet inside me sleeps,
curled up in the nut he rests,
perhaps he has died
and he lies, stiff and cold,
I do not think he is no more,
the occasional snore can be heard
a tumbling phrase or sybillant vowel
escape his lips,
errant ships that pass,
otherwise he lies
a dormant beast, waiting for spring
and the filtered sunshine that his words might bring
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