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 Aug 2015 Abbie
Edgar E Tobias
I feel estranged every now and then.
I been trying for months to explain, my lack of, conviction.
Half-hearted attempts to force something pleasing.
The only thing I'm sure of these days
Is that I'm not sure about much of anything.

What was meant to last eternity
A star's sparkling mystery, always shrouded in dark
Instead it all came crashing down in the beauty of a shooting star
Wishes are no different than secrets in this sense
We all have them, and tell no one
Keep them tucked underneath our pain
A journal entry's page kept safe through memory

I want to be the Nothing's you whisper
In the ear of your lover
To dance along the strings of your heart
A romantic arrhythmia played in perfect time
Pausing for a brief moment
Of enthralled dyspnea

Some might call it foolish, but they are right...
For all the wrong reasons.
To be brave, you must be a fool
Looking at your fate with sunken eyes, stoic
Yet, you push forward, no this is not an escape
This is acceptance in its purest form
The difference between courage and a coward is distraction and denial
Why run from the inevitable?

I'm not inviting him in, but I will acknowledge the existence.
Trying to form any cohesive line of thought is getting more and more difficult each passing day as the line between reality, dream, imagination, and memory become exponentially blurred with each passing night. Psychosis' cold hand is creeping in... But to experience it sober? Now that is a novelty I've yet to experience... I think? I may have had a dream about it. I could have made it up too... Does a beautiful girl fishing for compliments make her any less physically attractive? No. So, why are so many who are close to me convinced this is some game I'm playing? They choose to read my journals I hide. They know nothing of this site or this alias. Yet, their simple conclusions bore me to the point of not even having the strength to say, well... anything at all. Silence is golden. I am King Midas!
 Aug 2015 Abbie
Banita khanal
There comes a point in your life
when you stop enjoying romantic movie scenes anymore
touch feels skin
kiss feels yet another lips
getting together feels existing together
love feels commitment
and that commitment never feels romantic

you search for romance
you force for it
but never get the butterflies again

— The End —