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so far, so great, & the promise
of so long lingers on tomorrow;
hung on tenterhooks, staggering
sparks run through the early hours
as realisation hovers. that only less
than the length of a week, now, may
hold my consignation to this side
of another stretch of soil, another
long dream.

& everyone i've ever and never met
will look up at stars the same, but
all my constellations, bent n mirrored,
will flare up and light out footstep
patterns like eye-blink,
surveying all that was lost and found.

but, for now,
gales whip up a storm outside,
like the electricity planted
in my gut. another
momentary awakening.
dance of days, head as a twig, to pass the time away. tendrils unfold and try not grip too tight or loose, to never lose or choke; sometimes feeling the low roar of blood rushing through flow-spaces, held in prepare and transparency. in these moments, there is a fine tapestry we were woven upon, gestures lain side-by-side. sayin' all the same words, in distinct& ruffled tongue.

cold snap, and there's layers again. cycles run circles and somewhere, at the back of the room, there's an utterance: "funny, that". and i wonder if i'm hearing my voice or just seeing my own breath. it echoes in the corners, out between shadows. my left eye's been twitching, but only as ghost. i carry out the honours after, only by some gnarled sense of capitulation.

but that's life.
i just hit 100k views, thank you all for your kindnesses. this has been sitting as an unpublished piece for ages, and now's a better occasion than ever to set it free.
 Mar 2016 Tess Calogaras
Torin
Set your armies in order
Before you march
Its all planning
And with no good start there is no good end

I have a friend
I haven't seen in far too long
And yesterday I finally realized
My friend was really gone

So I'll write about what interest me
And hope you'll find it interesting
I'll pollute in the middle of the ocean
Where nobody goes to swim
To love and be loved

We all crave the same fiery temptation

To feel and to be numb

We contrast the beauty of love

To be broken and to be rebuilt

We have all seen an illusion of love

To smile and to cry

We fear love because sometimes love hurts

To drown and to float

We sink in despair, waiting to be rescued

To be confident and to be insecure

We weren’t born the same

Most of us hate ourselves

Wishing to be remade

Or maybe wishing to never exist at all

To be heard and to be ignored

We hold everything inside because everyone on the outside is too busy to listen

To be untruthful or to be truthful?

Truthfully. .

We are blinded by our fears

So far deep in our tears

We run from love because we never been chased by love

We accept less because we think that’s all we deserve

We reject love because we are tired of getting hurt

We feel like we are ugly because he or she is more appealing

We camouflage ourselves because we feel like society will judge us

We die inside because we never felt alive

We limit love because we never experienced it’s measures

To love and be loved ?

We will never understand it’s depth

Why?

Because first we have to **love ourselves
Dear people,
I wanted to create a group chat with people from the LGBTQ+ community on Hello Poetry,
A place where we can share our problems, seek advice, give tips and talk.
A chat where people can find support and people who they can identify with.
The group is open to join, I used the application called Kik.
The name of the group is: HelloPoetryLGBTQ+
Kik: HelloPoetryLGBTQ+
Love is like the wild rose-briar;
Friendship like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again,
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now,
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That, when December blights thy brow,
He still may leave thy garland green.
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
    Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
    Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
    Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
    Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
    Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
    Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
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