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You can never heal or fix someone emotionally,

In order to heal; one must decide they want healing.,

              Or


You may try and end up needing the healing yourself.
Sometimes
You
Have
To,
Hold your own hand,
Pat your own back,
Blow your own horn..
Not to be selfish,
But to learn to be there for your self when no one else is there for you.
 Aug 2018 O'neill Doc
Molly
He was born in August
Despite being surrounded by summer
He was susceptible to sadness
When he walks he goes heart first
Feet after
He speaks with a pencil
And a sketchbook
Always placed in his back pocket
Its outline is engraved in the denim
There's courage on his eyelashes
Despite the long cold winter
His flowers grow back relentlessly
Every
Single
Spring
He lets them grow wild
Since others trim theirs back

He finds another
Tends to her sadness
Waters her flowers so they can grow wild
Too
Always hers first
Even if there's not enough water for two
In return she carries some of his sadness for him
After all it's grown heavy

He was born in August
Sunshine in his hair
There were no clouds in the sky
Because he was holding on to them for us
Carries them in a jar
In return the wildflowers thank him for it
They grow thick on the forest floor so he can rest his head
While he sleeps
They sometimes withdraw a cloud
Absorb the sadness into their roots
And leave him nothing but the silver lining
"So you know you're loved"
The wildflowers whisper
"So you know it has all been worth it"
A Reading from the Book of Puppets

Her
Ventriloquist venom is never ending
engineering every word I should say


Pity me as her words drip down from my mouth
Look to me... my paralyzing awkwardness admonishes all attempts at paucity  

the ***** of vernacular continues
Manifest as a million babble born words
look at her and you’ll know why
Would you sell your soul
if you spoke staccato and she smiled sadistic?


And when she’s not there
I lay prostrate on the railroad tracks
of her impending presence

restrained
and retrained in the tailisman rope of your arrival
Look there now, a Tongue tied in knots, a mind firing (shots)
I am reduced
she is labyrinthine, in both style, and substance,
a sapiosexual maze, a soothing syrup mixed with
biter bile


why then does
nothing feel better than to see her smile
Why validate her pleasure
with my defeats?
Stuck and ****** into a singular melodious smile, the tune of which I can’t help but dance to

Why? Because at the end of the day

your eyes jut out
candelabras in defiance the night
notifying the world
of all you want but have yet to receive
a shallow existence .... a marked man... a million morbid motifs
made of mucus and stuttered star beams

You are that rare being, a glimpse at myself both wretched and alluring
A soul already tainted::: still I seek to embrue, the boredom
I am voiceless
in this decaffinated life

a tendril of hair
a woman domestic
a shadowland chaser
a light that’s poetic
The addictive tape worm of my soul

cdh
Summer, Day 1.
Do you know how much I love you?
One day you will.
One day you will.
I haven't even seen you yet,
but I am so in love with you.

When the time comes for us to finally be together, I will drive us somewhere outside this concrete jungle to ask you that. Then I will tell you to look at the stars, and you will try to count them, even if you already know that not enough stars were created to compare it to.

Darling, I dance and I sing and I shake in delight at the thought of being with you. I'm a morning person now, because I know that every waking moment is one day closer to forever.

Summer, Day 2.
I have sworn to save every part of this heart for you. I've loved before, but not like this. Not like this. My stone-heart now made flesh beats as if I'd just been born, as if I'd been made to love and to be loved by you.

Summer, Day 3.
I can't believe you chose me. I can't believe I'm going to get to marry you. We've got quite a long way to go, but I'm already preparing, making sure my dress will be as white as snow, every hair in place, this heart pure and this body untouched until the day I put my hand in yours. I can't wait to see your face when I walk down the aisle. I promise to be the perfect bride, your perfect bride.

Fall, Day 1.
I might not write as much as I did during the summer. Life has been getting busier and busier, but I want you to know that I still love you as much as I did from the first day.

Fall, Day 46.
I've been spending quite a bit of time with someone. He's clever and says the most interesting things. I feel like we will never run out of words to say to one another. We talk everyday, and the funny thing is sometimes I feel my day isn't complete yet if we haven't spoken. Don't worry, my heart is still yours. Just thought I'd let you know.

Fall, Day 52.
I think I love him, but just a little bit. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut an inch off of my heart to give to him. It's just an inch less. Surely you won't mind.

Fall, Day 80.
He's been with someone else this entire time. It's a good thing I gave him only an inch of my heart, but the rest is bruised. Don't worry, darling, I'll have it fixed in time.

Fall, Day 100.
It's still beating, but barely. Maybe I should love a little again. Maybe some warmth will do this heart good.

Winter, Day 15.
I think... I gave a little too much.

Winter, Day 50.
My latest disaster said my heart was something worth waiting for. Apparently his second hands tick faster than the usual. He left, taking more than I expected he would.

Winter, Day 65.
Is a heart supposed to look like this?

Winter, Day 90.
I can no longer hear it beating steadily. Some parts have frozen. I have tried to stitch pieces back together and they hold... if you would call it that. There are scars and cuts that haven't healed, swollen bits from the wounds that were infected because I tried to save the poison only to have it lash out and bite me in the back.

Winter, Day 104.
What have I done?

Winter, Day 135.
Look at it. No wait, don't. There isn't anything left to give you, anything worthy enough to even stand in your shadow. I promised you everything now I give you nothing. You waited for me yet I pursued others, consumed by my lust and my pride, where can I hide that I myself will not see this mess of a heart I've created? Where can I run to that I will not have to see the look on your face when you see what I have left to give you? Do you still want this, this broken vessel, this torn up heart, all the pieces that don't fit, all the stitched up parts? Do you still want me?

Spring, Day 1.
You do.

Spring, Day 3.
You do because you knew what you were getting yourself into long before you met me, you knew I would break your heart yet you still asked for mine, you do because you are love itself. A death defeating, grave shaking, forgiving, full of grace and mercy, life and righteousness kind of love. This is the love that chose me. Now I choose you.

Spring, Day 5.
What have I done to deserve this? As far as the east is from the west, so you have cleared my offense. When others asked for me, they knelt on one knee but you asked nailed to a tree. Now here you are. Despite what I've done you want me to return to you, want me to still have you. And you know what?

Spring, Day 7.
I do. And I give my heart to you in absolute surrender and total abandon. Here, though broken and torn, take it and make it new.
It was yours all along. I was yours all along.
A piece written for Logos' Vessel under Fringe Manila.
let a kiss
travel
9000 kilometers
within
the speed
of light

is it urban?
is it cosmic?
, to walk upon
a silk rope in the sky?

there is no time-difference
between autumn and japan

let this kiss
burn wowing quickly
like a shooting-star
within poetry:
healingly handwritten
and strongly heartfelt.
 Jul 2018 O'neill Doc
Amy Leigh
Never fall in love with a poet.
They will break you apart
like stanzas.
You are a metaphor,
a simile, an oxy-
*****.
Never fall in love with a poet.
They will tear you apart
like a rough draft,
burn you, and then
call it art.

© A. Leigh
BEAUTY

You are beautiful,
But how long will that beauty last?
Don't treat the one that loves you like a fool,
Just because your options are vast,
A day will come when the beauty will fade,
Thats a thought most of us dread,
But it is reality,
Infact beauty is vanity,
Of course it is good to look at,
But what about what is in the heart?

MORTAL BODY

The body with time deteriorates,
Its like each day is a count down,
No,i'm not perssimistic.
Satisfy your soul,fulfill it.
As for your body, don't let it lead you astray.
Control it.
Love it,own it. You will never live anywhere else but in it. Embrace it..
I can't believe it's here
No more anticipation until next year
It's also hard to imagine something so wonderful could be made
And to find someone who loves me for me and stayed
I just wish I could give you more than just words
I'm your loser and you're my nerd
I love you and I hope to be at more birthdays , I hope I'm not to foreword
You mean everything to me and I hope you have a great fifteen
And as the years change so will your mien
But our love will not
And I'll never be able to express how much love , memories , and joy you have brought
I guess what I'm trying to say is cliche
But I really wish you "Happy Birthday"
To my love who is is one year older and always has been much wiser
I love you Ender Happy Birthday I'm so glad your parents created something so wonderful
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