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you could never see me the way that i needed you to see me
and i could never see you the way that you wanted me to see you
and so we stumbled past each other
blind
groping for something
we'd never find
and never hold
477

No Man can compass a Despair—
As round a Goalless Road
No faster than a Mile at once
The Traveller proceed—

Unconscious of the Width—
Unconscious that the Sun
Be setting on His progress—
So accurate the One

At estimating Pain—
Whose own—has just begun—
His ignorance—the Angel
That pilot Him along—
The stars and moon
do shine upon
our sleepless souls
dream as one
sunshine soothes
and darkness hides
behind your eyes
lie deep desires
If words can move you to faraway places
or open your heart as you read,
or sit in your mind
for hours at a time
It's poetry

If you rhyme or compose at every suggestion
of things that you hear or you see,
or if there's an obsession to write it all down
It's poetry

If you put down your fork on its way to your mouth
so you can pick up a pen
and jot down a note,
you are definitely a poet too.
(Courtesy of:  Mike Essig)

If you think that you're different
You are

If you wonder about
or have any doubt
of whether or not you're a poet
You are
(Whether you like it or not)
(Thanks to HP poet  Mike Essig for the added line)
 Apr 2015 Abbie Rodriguez
Montana
Someone once told you,
“Boys don’t cry.”
And for a while,
you believed them.

But like a flower,
kissed by the sun
and nurtured by the rain,
you opened yourself to the world.

And the world can be harsh.
Cloudy days can be cruel.
But if you wait for the sun,
I promise it will come back.

Your empathy may destroy you,
but that’s the price you must pay
to feel happiness and love
as deeply as you do.

And they will tell you,
“You are weak.”
But darling,
you are not weak.

And they will tell you
“You are less than.”
But darling,
you are more.

Boy who cries, you are beautiful.
But they will tell you
you are not.

Don’t listen.
Isn't
Numbness,
a feeling?
For..
You
are
supposed
to
not
feel
anything.*

(Or not)
This is the worst part of my depression.
 Apr 2015 Abbie Rodriguez
Darby
The sun is blind
It cannot see

It cannot see how
Beautiful
Shining
Magical it truly is

The sun is blind
It cannot see

It cannot see
The light
The glow
The color it casts

The sun is blind
It cannot see

But it knows that it is
Beautiful
Shining
Magical

It knows the
Light
Glow
Color

Just because it cannot see does not mean it doesn't know it's beauty
It knows the light and joy it gives
It knows how beautiful it is

Which is why it keeps shimmering on

For if you do not know how
Beautiful
Shining
Magical

If you do not know your
Light
Glow
Color

Why would you show it?

The sun is blind
It cannot see
just wanted to get a few words out of my head. love you all

xoxo
Of all the ways you've laid waist
to the Fortressess of Love I ***** in the realm of my emotions...

Of all the brittle limbs you send back crumbling on which once grew life I sent to you like pawns before me in this dry territory where the dust disturbs the view of the silvry illuminations in the sky...

Of all these things I've said, and the things I've not said...

At least, they let me know that you know I'm alive.
I could not sleep, nor think.
So I wrote a poem.
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