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It’s hard to imagine that by being yourself
You could save someone’s life
You don’t have to imagine
Because you’ve done it so many times
I know now you can’t understand
But when your older I will take your hand
Look you in the eyes
And tell you because of you
I am alive
Reach toward the light..
It kills. Little wings told me so.
Dead moths inside my lampshade
Made me aware that that's
where moths go to die.
And what of Angel's?
Do they not fly toward the Light?
 Feb 2019 Ephemeral Oblivion
M
And here we are
the end.

Five years running
and nothing to show

except the slowed
platonic love

and tired
texts

and an absence
of what once was

Except you don't know
do you

know that I'm
leaving us

know that I'm
panicked

into wondering
if I'm behind in
people

experiencing people

I feel I'm at a loss
with you

because we met each other
too soon

and now I'm just pointed bones

and you are the sun

and I'm greedy
for still wanting a piece of you

But I am burnt

The End.
I didn't think I'd write this kind of poem about you.
I want the kind of love where
Even when I'm upset
Even when I'm angry
At you
And I deserve the right to be
I can look you in the eyes
With tears streaming down my face
And still be able to whisper
I love you
I’ll never be happy he told her.
She said it wasn’t true,
that he was young,
that he didn’t know any better,
that things will change someday.
And when they met many years later,
when they were silver-haired and slower afoot,
she said she was sorry,
that she was the one who didn’t understand,
and that he was right all along.
And hearing that, he turned slowly and walked away.
and you can scream
from the top of your lungs;
your echo won't sound

what was overshadowing noise
has now become silence
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