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It´s difficult to love when we are down,
It´s like having nowhere to sleep,
We just pretend that we have an option.
Under the bridge or on the garden bench.

Like dust, we rise a couple seconds
At the passage of the unknown
Anxiously aiming to be oxygen
In someone´s lungs
But we fall painfully slow on the ground.

Like smoke of a fire
Or fog we have an effect
A principle of being
But we just can't feel it

A cause
Or a mere colatteral accident in life?
A real pain
Or nature´s oblivion...?
LAICEY Oct 2020
He watered the flowers in my chest and they blossomed.
I showed him all of the colours on my tongue and he stayed.

He’s like a breath of fresh air,
clearing my mind but filling my lungs.
It’s different and warm. It’s hopeful.
This feels so easy. It’s serene.

There is something remarkable in the way he speaks,
the way he laughs and whispers and sings.
It will remind you of knowledge infused innocence.
Until we’re ******* each other in the kitchen.

We kiss and it’s like I’ve tasted everything sweet,
while my body is being set on fire and
the butterflies’ wings still flutter with desire.
I lay my ear flat against his chest, as I try to
memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat.

We’re driving on an empty highway past borrowed land.
“Paris” is playing at volume thirty five.
I look over and you take my hand.
The rear view mirror is reflected in your green eyes
while the corners of your mouth turns up into a smile,
almost in slow motion. Now I can feel my own grow.

We stay silent but I know and you know:
this is the most profound feeling in life.
© LAICEY Poems October 2020
LAICEY Sep 2020
you’re great at storytelling and
i could fall asleep to the sound
of your voice as it recounts a memory.
but i don’t want to be a part of your story.

i'm not one to be religious but i do hope to
god that i don't become one of them as
you remember the ghosts of us out loud
on the phone at 3am to another like me.

don’t let me be just your character development.
bring me on your entire journey and
let me remain the one you call at 3am
when you're dying to tell all the stories that you’ll have to tell in our future.

i don't want to be a part of your story.
i want to be your reality.
© LAICEY Poems September 2020
  Sep 2020 LAICEY
Goddess Rue
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
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