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Thieving through the multiple strains
Of voices in the room,
Eavesdrops that one conversation with relish.
Looks out the corner of his eye,
Winces at the eye contact.
Curbs his laughter at the
Joke for he wasn’t expecting it.
They gesture to him
With a frantic wave of the hand,
He lets out a curt smile to/at them,
Walks on,
While they wondered
Why he was smiling to himself?
Context? Just describing a situation I feel we all might have been in, once. Say, you're miffed with someone, you're giving someone the cold shoulder, for you'll wait till eternity till that person 'realises' that she/he must come to you and apologize, and you'll be the better of the two souls for you'll forgive him rightaway. Only, you must act like you don't know or like him for things you always did, being on your guard. I wonder why we do it. Yet I might catch myself in a similar situation someday, years later.
I left my soul in a hospital room. I left her swaying to the rhythm of a failing heart, of a flat line, of sloppy “I’m sorry”s, and final goodbyes. I left her. I left my soul in a hurricane. I left her singing with the rhythm of the wind. I left her drowning, swimming, sinking, grasping, clinging. I left her empty with shattered windows, boarded up, and breaking down. I left her. I left my soul somewhere between "I meant it" and "I'm sorry." I was just wondering if you could return her soon.
I want to be immune
To the song that lures
Me to you.
The sensuous pull
That has me wanting,
Needing,
To be in your grasp,
Your hands tangled
In my hair,
Your teeth to my skin.
I want to be immune
To the hunger I feel
For your kiss,
The ache I feel
For your touch.
Because I need you,
So much it hurts.
Lies in a bath tub,
filled to the brink.
He has tried to go under,
He has tried to sink.

He maneuvers his fingers slowly,
To the edge of the blade.
His goal is to only,
Make the memories fade.

But not much will change,
The more he will suffer.
Lets try again?
One cut after another.

Warm blooded,
The water turns red.
He is still alive,
He is not dead.

His hope is religion,
His strength he must trust.
Take all the bad memories,
Turn then to dust...
I was diagnosed with depression and I have struggled with life many days

— The End —