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 Apr 2018 L T Caulfield
Lily
Normal
 Apr 2018 L T Caulfield
Lily
I’ve become so good at
Pretending to be okay,
I don’t even remember what
It feels like to let it all go.  
I don’t remember letting my friends see my anxiety,
Breaking down in front of somebody,
Smiling a genuine smile.  
I don’t remember showing any emotion besides okay,
Fine, normal.  
I remain the definition of average,
Blending in so well I don’t even think about it.  
Sometimes I want to just stop.  
Just stop all of the pretending and let myself feel.  
But I can do it.  
I can do whatever I need to do
In order to keep things normal.  
And that’s the scariest thing of all.
 Apr 2018 L T Caulfield
Rebecca
I've been called too intense from people who could not grasp the significance of my feelings.
I've been called hard to love from people who have not shown me a single sign of adoration.
I've been called ignorant from people who spew nothing but negativity.
I've been called ugly from some of the most beautiful woman I know.
We often look to others for how we should act and live,  so focus on yourself and you'll find that there is a bigger picture to every story, here are a few things that I AM.
I  am compassionate because people should be able to understand feelings and if they cannot, they can at least respect them.
I am warmhearted because everyone deserves love and light from time to time.
I am uneducated in situations I dont understand and constantly willing to learn from someone or something.
I am beautiful. And so are YOU.
At first what did grip me I could not understand
Like everything new
One does not at first know
And as fools do I did stumble
Still, moment to moment
Always constantly
My interest seeds the path of my development
While all stimuli calls me
What I truly am
Abstractly, I will be drawn to
More naturally...
For this fool to become master
I must follow my interest
To develop my path
I must embrace those adventures
With a full heart and a brave mind
But above all else, to myself, always truthfully
 Apr 2018 L T Caulfield
r
My father and I
lie down together.

He is dead.

We look up at the stars,
the steady sound
of the wind turning
the night like a ceiling fan.

This is our home.

I remember the work in him
like bitterness in persimmons
before the first frost,
and I imagine the way he feared
the pain, the ground turning
dark in the rain.

Now he gets up
and I dream he looks down
into my brown eyes
that may as well been his.

He weeps and says goodbye,
my son, I don't want to
go yet, but I can't wait
around to watch you die.
why my existence was just one unending question?

even in the formless and endless pitch black (his HP alias),
could hear Him smile and communicate:
if not You, then who?

We love your dreams where answers run wild like an
Oregon waterfall,
only you understand that the whole world encapsulates into:

love thy neighbor as thyself!

which must be recited as a poem
standing on one left leg

then, smiling,
god extended his only finger, touching each of mine eyelids:

sleep, friend for we need your questioning dreams,
your faith unfurled and unfulfilled
for in your unending inquiry
is all of our
in the beginning, our anti-matter rooted creation,

the Holy Dark
2/19/18 3:06am
http://www.seraphicpress.com/rabbi-hillel-on-one-leg-me-too/

n the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
The electricfying feeling when touched
By a soul whose passion burns
Through years of mistakes and adventures
Is a touch only a lover will give you
Kissing their lips, grabbing their body's
Sailing away from the worry
Jumping off rooftops together
Opening your ears to the sound of lust
As the record spins and spins
The fury you've created goes on and on
With each long night,
With every single word spoken
After every gaze, every cigarette
The embers float in the wind
Capturing the symbolic meaning,
Of what it means to be alive

— The End —