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Loving you is a paradox
It is an oxymoron
Made in hell
Can't you see that I'm torn?
My head spins
I lose my senses
My body feels numb
I am indifferent to life
All that matters is you
I can't stay with you
Why do I cope with this so lightheaded;
I feel like I hate you
No one makes me feel worse
But no one makes me feel better
And more alive
 May 2016 Adrian Newman
Torin
I would've given up
A long time ago
**** it
I should give up now
But I can't
Its only because my empty hands
Hold a heart
And if I'm buried
I'm taking it with me
It's mine
As mine has always been
       Only yours......
I should've given up
A long time ago
I know
I could give up now
But I won't
Its only because I still have love to give
You as well
And if I get lost in darkness
Your light will fade
Its true
As truth has always been
Only yours
•••••••••••••√√√√√√√√√√••••••••••••••
I'll be your eyes to help you see
You'll be my heart to help me bleed
I'll be your shadow
You'll be my ghost
We'll share a body
~~~~~••••••••••~~~~~
We'll share a love
We'll share a house
We'll share the stars
That we're made from
                                I could be strong
                                    Without you
                                    But I'd never
                                   Be strong
                                    Enough
+++++++++++++++­+++++++++++++++
I was born
To love you
Its written in the stars
You were made
To love me
Its written on your heart
Four seperate poems
Combined and taken whole
I know I'm drunk, but this makes my ***** tingle
Poetry lives, sleeps, deep, deep within,
The words, waiting, waiting, waiting,
Nurtured, soothed, lovingly cajoled,
Given form and purpose, till they rise,
Coming to life, unbidden, bursting free.

They echo around the globe, touching,
Slipping silkily into hearts and minds,
Subtly connecting with new-born ideas,
Mingling, coalescing, waiting, waiting,
That’s where poetry come from, (yes),
Poetry lives, sleeps, deep, deep within.

©Paul M Chafer 2016
Inspired by Divine Dao and her poem, Wow!
Forged in moments, assembled, jostled and posted, unpolished, that's where poetry comes from deep, deep within
She had music in her soul
A heart made of gold
Her future, a fairytale waiting to be told

He had a heart that was oh so cold
A soul that seemed centuries old
His past, a tragic tale never to be retold

Her eyes were ever so bright
They resembled the stars at night
A life where everything seemed so right

For years he followed her guiding light
From the lowest low to the highest height
But you know what they say about the deception of sight

Now he is covered in invisible scars
Nothing more than reminders of his journey through the stars.
 Apr 2016 Adrian Newman
Aeerdna
If I'd love you more and more and more,
until my heart will become a dry fountain,
it will still not be enough for you
it will never be enough for me
for I will never see the happiness
you used to feel around me.

Our hands still not apart,
but your heart is as absent
as snow in desert.
You're writing new paragraphs between your lines,
but you've never taught me the language
your feelings speak now.

With every touch you're growing colder
the air between us is poison
you're cutting deep in my skin
with your once sweet lips.

I'm sorry darling,
but you see,
this chasm is getting too wide for me
in the darkness of this abyss I don't want to be.

I'll pack all my love in an old luggage case
new journeys awaiting, new roads ahead.

I'm sorry, sweetheart,
I hope you understand,
only by turning pages I'll ever find
paragraphs written in the language of my heart.
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