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Your favourite colour was the shade
On the city when the sun set.
Your eyes were as deep as the ocean,
Yet so different from simply blue.

You said you hated the rain
And loved the heat.
In love with the moment,
But never the person.

You always had
A great passion for drawing lines
Between two states.

But how could you even tell
Fire from love,
And pain from rain,
When in the end
they were all just the same?



-Eunice Adewole
 Feb 2020 King Suphy
Anne Curtin
No
 Feb 2020 King Suphy
Anne Curtin
No
No poetry today.
No words for the despair.
No calming the fears.
No poetry today.
 Jan 2020 King Suphy
Stanley
Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,
First poem I've written, to anybody who reads this is hope you enjoyed it and it made you day a little better
I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-
all feedback is welcome and appreciated!

— The End —