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The things you’ve said
The things that happened
Burned in my memories
I close my eyes
It all plays on repeat
Like a broken record
Pain sits with a held hand.
It is enough.

Pain rises, carries on,
It was enough.

Because it doesn't want
To perpetuate the pain

Of others.
There is always enough.

When the glass is filled
One stops.
One more night
One more morning
Skin on skin
Warmth of your smile
Fragrant breath
Please stay awhile.
Days are long
Colourless sky
With you there’s  no why
Give me the dark
Give me the light
One more morning
One more night
Flesh on flesh
Sweet!
Take the brush from the painter,
You destroy her soul.

Take the music from the dancer,
You destroy her rhythm.

Take the spice from the chef,
You destroy her palate.

But take the dream from the dreamer,
You destroy a nation— the essence of her being!
The afternoon sun opens the day
wiping the morning mist from the sky.
A robin sits on a mossy wall
overlooking the glistening valley,
basking its little chest.
I speak to it,
words gentle, soft and kind.
It looks at me,
a gaze curious, yet knowing,
seeming quiet at its best.
Suddenly, with a song
it takes to the sky,
where old memories lie,
before its ancestors sang,
the caged bird's song.
The moon comes to me,
at once with melancholy.
Like old friends.
That was my first attempt at a haiku a couple of weeks ago. :)
 18h Shawna Whaley
n
i wonder what i would’ve been like
if i learned to love myself
instead of being taught to break down every little atom and put it on display
just to be torn apart
i wish i knew
Something's missing, alone.

At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.
What a relief.
Easy come, easy go
it hurts a bit more than a stubbed toe.
The hurt means I cared,
but I can't let getting hurt make me scared.
I have to believe
even if you all will call me naive,
that not everyone will leave
even if the notion, right now, is hard to conceive.
Easy come, easy go
you packed up and left, it was the end of our show.
But it's not the end of mine.
For one day, all my stars will align.
Everything will fall into place,
I won't have lies told straight to my face.
Easy come, easy go...
From this hurt, I know I'll grow.
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