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Matt Sep 6
How could we have survived,
Without that old table?
Memories made of creaking wood,
Every scratch a storyteller.
Super glue for flesh and blood,
Which rested in my mother’s kitchen.
Matt Sep 1
You want to help,
Until you have to do something.
You understand,
Until I need your understanding.
You’ll listen,
Until you hear something you don’t like.
You have patience,
Until you lose your temper.
You care,
Until it becomes hard work.
You love me,
Until you don’t love me anymore.
You’re here form me,
Until you eventually leave.
Matt Sep 1
The emotion takes a moment
And tells you it’s a lifetime.
It will always be like this,
It says.

And you believe its lies,
Because even in this haze of panic,
It still feels safe somehow.

Something is familiar,
It feels like your broken home,
But still a home.

So you trust its empty words
And forget about reality
And let instinct take control,
Once again.
Matt Sep 1
Seconds tick past,
Each one a tiny cut,
The clock will ****** you,
If you give it enough time.
Every movement of the hand,
A tiny shove towards fate.
When the alarm finally chimes,
Will it be too early,
For us to become late?
Matt Sep 1
My happy place,
Here with you in outer space.
A million miles from anywhere,
Floating at a measured pace.
Where love and positivity,
Light a fire in the heart of me.

My happy place,
Long lazy Sundays,
Trash TV and take aways.
The scent of sizzling bacon
And fresh bread baking.
Dancing to our special song,
At last my love has come along.

My happy place,
Where we unpacked my battered case,
Threw away the broken glass
And damaged things along the way,
This place where someone like you,
Could ask someone like me to stay.

My happy place,
Inside your arms.
No more hurt,
No more harm,
Drifting in your waters calm.
To live within your soft embrace,
Will always be my happy place.
Matt Sep 1
A gift somebody once gave me,
Like a heavy winter coat,
Far too big for a child,
But I grew into it.

It still hangs in my attic,
Sometimes I forget,
Sometimes I remember,
But whenever I try it on,
It still fits.
Matt Sep 1
A broken heart becomes a seed,
It sprouts a bitter vine.

Stalks like rope and leaves of pain,
It creeps and chokes,
Stealing sunlight as it climbs.
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