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Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat
I don't think I feel much attachment
to this world I was born in anymore.
It's not a plea or a desperate attempt
to garner some pointless sympathy.
What good does sympathy do
when anyone loses anything?
What we've lost doesn't come back.
That is not my goal.
In fact, I don't have any goals.
There isn't anything I'm good at
except putting these words down,
expressing how much I hate myself.
That doesn't pay bills,
that doesn't give any relief
to my parents who are sick.
There's no security found in admitting
that I've somehow ****** my life away.
Sure, I'm still alive but in what way?
My heart still beats, I can shout
and my lungs still stretch in and out
but that doesn't accurately determine
someone who's really "alive" to me.
There's always that one headstrong guy
who yells at me to just "go and fix it"
and to quit whining about my life.
News flash, I've already tried.
Let's go back to the beginning.
I don't think I feel much attachment
to this world I was born in anymore.
It's not a plea, a cry or an attempt for help.
I could go tonight or wake up tomorrow
and it wouldn't make a difference to me.
You've already judged me subconsciously
so I'd rather hear it from you directly.
What does all of this say of me?
Don't answer that, I was just kidding.
I've probably already guessed your answer.
You see, I do that daily.
I predict your ****** expressions
and every single word you'll say
before they come out of your mouth.
I don't get closure that way,
I only get it when I post
words that actually
come from my soul.
Some of the poems I post
are complete garbage
but I mean every word
that I've typed today.
 Jun 2019 EphemeralLikeGold
Donna
Hmm I've only got a
few likes today hmm maybe
my writings not good

Why am I even
writing what's it's all about
What's the point , I only feel

anxious now , deep breaths
Now I feel silly why did
I write that , oh jeez

heart beating feel sick!!
Then my self doubt passes and
I'm back to lovely

place again! Self doubt
sure can grip me making me
feel really down! But you

see writing helps dig
through negativity , am
I a poet or not

Maybe , I'm not sure
But I'm much more too , I'm a
wife a mum a sister

a friend. I've wrote my
heart out for five years now non
stop to be honest

But now I'm in such
a lovely place of content
I'm living happy

Of course I still get
life stresses hit me and yeah
I get negative

But one thing I can
always rely on is my
passion for writing

It helps mentally
to keep me strong and focus
May it come from my

heart or mind or once
in awhile I like to write
stories , fun fun fun :)

I'm slowing down now
Gone and got myself married :)))
Tis so wonderful

Children are growing
up fast , there leading there own
life's more every day

So I'm finding new
hobbies to keep me active
Life changes happen

But to write , will be  
in me always , tis part of me
it's just there always

So to all who love to
write have fun dry those tears up
Find your happy place :))
Have a lovely week ahead :)) love to u all xxxx
Fire. The devourer. The dictator.
Earth. The cosmic carpet. The shapeshifter.
Water. The liquid of many guises. The Unyielding.
Air. The neighbor. The stranger. The infiltrator.
Space. The habitat of substance.  The Ultimate void.
And then poetry, the masterpiece of Thought.
The Great Imitator.
 Mar 2019 EphemeralLikeGold
Yasin
A man's heart is the ocean filled with many boats
but he only keeps one afloat
Laughter and Loneliness
Fill the streets of towns
Some cuddle in comfort
Or
Linger on the lone ledge
And these events are caused by
Those that bury their heart in others
Those that bury their heart in emptiness
But remember
We all must carry shovels
So don’t mind the blisters
Or the uneven handle
Or the dulling of such a tool
For we can dig ourselves
Into anything
And out of everything
Happy pre-V-Day to every soul slotted into every conceivable condition....
...my life will be measured
In empty beer cans,
Cigarette butts
And ashes...

But somebody will remember the promise and potential of my youth.
In the cold seconds of the dark night
When a message from another is frozen
Does not solitude answer?
Speeding back to reply
With a smooth and resounding silence
And most would place this
Next to the bins that they empty
But I see it
As unblemished beauty
One midnight rose
Whose pedals blend in
So that only sterling starlight
Can define its edges
Running within youth’s river
The water cold around my ankles
Laughter loitering in the air
My friends and I
Were fond of infinity
Our swimsuits were scented in it
Endless Days
Endless Nights
Endless Homework
Yet who could see
That youth’s river led to the senile sea
On park benches next to the elderly wise
In the library where the University lies
At seminars hosted outside for free
Or lecture halls with Professors facing me
In all these lands
My mind expands
For,
I lean in to learn where wisdom won it's wreath
And come away with a sword that knows no sheath
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