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Kalliope Jun 28
I only grow flowers with thorns.
Beautiful from afar,
Their petals softer than skin after shea butter,
But poison to the touch.

Their scent so captivating,
You can't help but search for it,
Only to be knocked out once found.

Those brave enough to pick up the stem
Will always regret it.
These thorns are razor sharp,
And they love to embed.
They've never seemed to bother me though
  Jun 28 Kalliope
nivek
half way to paradise
half way to hell

a right turn here
a left turn there

love is radical
a choice made.
  Jun 28 Kalliope
Lynn Stillman
I cower within
Shames the constant companion,
that just won't go home.
  Jun 27 Kalliope
Lynn Stillman
He asks for my hand
I tell him that I need it
He is not amused
  Jun 27 Kalliope
Alvin Montagnani
"What is a silent scream?", she asked me in the middle of July.

"Ink on paper."
Was particularly fond of this one quote, so I just wanted to share it.
  Jun 27 Kalliope
Alvin Montagnani
If I had a heart.
Untainted.
Not yet blackened by my own sadness, selfishness and self-loathing.
Tattered and worn out.
Tired of beating for others.

It would be yours.

I'd call you in the middle of the night.
And it would be your call.
To decide whether or not I'm worth a shot.

Spoiler alert:

I'm not.
I'm just never going to be enough, am I?
Kalliope Jun 27
I like to play music wherever I am,
I find it very grounding, my centering stand.
Even if mentally I'm drifting in the clouds,
Humming the tune, maybe singing out loud.

I like that for three minutes I feel something else,
Shuffle my playlist and the cards I’ve been dealt.
I could be angry or happy or sad,
These songs change my spirits, even just a tad.

A verse can hold me when no one is near,
A chorus can quiet what I don't want to hear.
Melodies mend what I can't fix alone,
Lyrics remind me my soul has a home.

So I play my songs to remember or forget,
To calm down my worries and ease my regret.
Music keeps me moving when I’m stuck in my head,
Breathing life into days that feel heavy as lead.
I’ve started writing just about what I like,
No more poems to boost a man’s psyche.
My words aren’t for you to misunderstand-
This pen will never write your name again.
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