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 Aug 2018 Anna-Marie Rose
Belle
i live in the past as if its home
it is disgusting
it causes me pain because
every corner
or room
the backyard
another memory creeps up
and im pathetic
it makes me uncapable
unlovable
uncomfortable
i remember each
sound
touch
voice
reminds me of each
person screaming
****** assault
malicious predator
i live in the past as if im stuck there
and i am
 Aug 2018 Anna-Marie Rose
Rosie
The most beautiful souls hold the most painful stories
We are roses hiding a past of thorns
Shaped by experiences that touched us
But our struggles do not define us
You aren't allowed to give up, not yet.
I’ve been told many times
Poetry is dead
Why want to be a poet?
As honored and humbled as I am
I’m here to express
I’m  not a poet
I’m not a writer
I’m not a blogger
I’m not a columnist
Nor into journalism
I’m just simply
Undeniably
Expressively
Unapologetically
For better or worst
The
Messenger
Of
Love
My poetic life started through my struggles, my happiness and gratitude.... Poetry Is All Around Us , All You Have To Do , Is Take A Glimpse ;)
 Jul 2018 Anna-Marie Rose
Rowan
Love
 Jul 2018 Anna-Marie Rose
Rowan
Love is portrayed as such a beautiful thing that many want
Not all get it, and those who do are "lucky"
People trip and tumble over one another
Clawing and reaching for this thing called "love"
Thinking it will help them
They don't understand that it comes with more than their told
It's not just cuddles on rainy days, and kisses that seem surreal
It's being up a 3 am wondering if you good enough for them
Watching them at their worst and not being able to do anything
It's holding them and telling them that
"It will all be okay..."
When you yourself don't even know if it will
Love isn't just all of the good things, it's the bad things too
I guess that's why people fall out of love
Yet despite all of that, some come back to love again
It just might be worth it all
The heartbreak, joy, fear, and surprise
It all might be worth it
If I can simply have you in my arms
Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot
Grey marks the skies
Lush green plants peeping in
The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background
For
Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen
And some music to complete the scene
Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop
Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal
But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep
Whispering, persuading me to dream
But I really don't want to miss this shard of time
I never want to lose little moments like these

A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car
Crash landing, rather
The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down
Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime
It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom
It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it
Each drop morphs into another, making a wave
The rain weaves an intricate web of waves
All strutting their sparkly magic before me
I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in
Millions of crescendos growing about
Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others
But I stay focused on the beauty all around

I wonder if heaven has rainy days
If so, this must be one of them
What does it mean to be
Emotionally unavailable?
My manic thoughts keep me starving for
An imagined happy

“Are you single?” They asked
Well, my heart is as open as an old wound
That reopens & bleeds & scars for
Vicarious validation
Yet closed in the sense that it shuts down
Every time it starts to feel something
Almost habitually,
As if in self defense
I guess you could say my heart was a
Twisted & distanced kind of available...

But no
I’m not available in my mind
Because it knows better than my
Feeling *****
The human container that’s headstrong
To it’s gullible nature
My thinking ***** knows that
Vicarious happy is not real happy
Which labels my forehead like a neon sign
Emotionally Unavailable

I crave a validation that looks like your love
But it won’t fix me
Or provide the happiness I
Desperately need for myself
You can’t love yourself through somebody else
Your lips against mine
Our bodies entwined
The bed in which we lie
The warmth we provide

All of which described
Are amongst my favourite kind
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