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Lyda M Sourne Mar 2018
And I was a fool to think
You had loved me too

"I only see you as a friend"

There was nothing there
You were never there

And what I thought was true
That something between me and you

Was just as it was
A once upon a dream
A maybe relationship ***** and when he denies it at the end, you're left wondering if everything really happened in the first place
Lyda M Sourne Mar 2018
I would write sonnets

Of our escapades
On boat rides
Walks through the park
Crossing bridges

I would write stories

Of our late night talks
Your piano blues
Inside jokes
Quiet conversation

I would write poems

Of the space between us
Entwined hands
Closeness of heartbeats
Fingers running on skin

But I am just the writer
And you are my muse
With our tale ending on paper
And here I am writing about him again
Lyda M Sourne Mar 2018
And I walk on this earth
With footsteps light
Like butterfly legs

And I love you
With passion that soars
Like butterfly wings

And I bid you farewell
With my lips on your cheek
Like butterfly kisses
Lyda M Sourne Mar 2018
It's near 2am

I'm thinking of you again
It's not how, it's when
To get over you

It's near 2am

Memories are flooding
Like a tsunami of unwanted
Feelings

It's near 2am

I close my eyes but I see you
Your eyes, your smile, your voice
Are clear but not true

It's near 2am

Time slows down after midnight
And mind replays the past
Of love that's not quite
Hello insomnia. You bring company I'd rather not have over
  Mar 2018 Lyda M Sourne
Jasmine Reid
If you have ever been with a writer, you don't know the extent of there passion.
Unless, you stay by their side. Then it's even better because you will know, you will eventually know..maybe not straight away or after a couple years, but it will come into the light of your eyes soon enough.

It's tough to get rid of the past sometimes when you're a writer, because people stay with you through text. Your work, and once you read it again, there they are once more, back in your mind as you watch your memories play through.

One and then two, and then there may be more, or maybe just a special one that you can't stop writing about, or you keep remembering.

This isn't bad, it could be a good or bad reason as to why and what you're writing about, it's good to get everything out.

You feel refreshed if you vent out the anger through intricate words, or you feel euphoric after writing about your joy.
It makes you feel better.

I like to link ideas in my head, and I like a bit of rhyme from time to time. Yeah. You saw what I did there, I'm a genius.

I like going back sometimes, because I can see my works, even if your name is imprinted into them, that's okay, it makes it work.
The Idea, The Memory, The Poem itself.

It's nice to be with a writer because you are always somewhere in their writing, even if you don't see it, you're in there, trust me. I wouldn't mind being with a writer, even though I'm one myself, I guess I would just like to see what they truly think of me.

Cause you will always see yourself behind their hidden meanings.
Lyda M Sourne Mar 2018
And I paint on skin
So I don't have to cut

And I paint roses with leaves
So blood can look beautiful

And I paint thorns black
So they bite but don't hurt

And I paint on skin
So there's no pain inside
I'm scared of pain but I want to let it out. And when music and words don't work, I paint myself.
  Mar 2018 Lyda M Sourne
trinity
why must sadness always be my muse?
why can i only use words
to fill my own emptiness?
i want to write about the sunbeams that dance on my wall
about how my baby sister laughs
about the stars and my passions
i want to get so carried away in the love and beauty i know that i forget how to write and my words become nonsense and my sentences run on and on and on until they overflow
i want kindness and joy to emanate from my work
i want my cheeks to ache from smiling
instead of my eyes burning from tears
i want to change
i want to heal
hey if anyone can explain what this even means you get uh bragging rights what a mess
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