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Poetria Jan 2017
I shall spend
my waiting days
yearning for the orange sun
to burn me with his lips.

So he burned, but at a distance,
yes, *he burned a brilliant red.


Oh, I yearned for him to light me up,
but he glared me down instead.
Poetria Jan 2017
When it is light
their creeping eyes
won't stop peering
through cracked lenses
and narrowed pupils;
predatory.

Perhaps the dark
can offer kindness
in it's solitude.
A toast to me, myself and I; a glass of sweet solitude.
Poetria Jan 2017
If you have done a little breaking,
you have been a little broken.
  Jan 2017 Poetria
Rob K
She seems much too high,
So far out of reach.
Twinkling in a sunset,
But never washed away, by the sunrises bleach.

She's really quite simple.
A bright and shining sky spec.
It's a simple and pure beauty,
Stoic and unreadable at best.

Little did I know,
On the ground which I stood.
Was the only place her light shined.
But explained it away, as soon as I could.

For I am no star.
In no sky do I rest.
So I smiled a sorrowed smile,
And moved on, with more weight in my chest.
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