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Can't you just
have the same
thrumming in
your chest for
me that I have
for you?
Eyes wide open starring outside.
A web of Soft and comfy sheets tangled,
Clean walls and ceiling of bright white paint,
I woke up lost in a bed not of my own.

The thrilling scenes of the past few days,
Became the brewing storm in the ocean of us,
Lightning cuts through the darken stormy skies,
Thunders of the vociferous truth are never far away.

And so often the reality of the illuminating morning,
Brings unsettled thoughts that shadows the soul,
I dare not look on the other side to tackle my concern,
What I denied stubbornly and wouldn’t succumb.

A half closed door leading to a house of another me.
Shards of bittersweet nothings on the floor unclean,
Glitters like fool’s gold in the morning light at play,
I shut the entrance vowing not to violate a peek.
What if we took our favorite lines from poems, one line from each poem (one poem from each follower/every liked poem/favorite poems/your own poems/etc), and constructed a coherent poem from the lines? Probably a bad idea, but food for thought.
Feel free to leave feedback on this idea, and what we could call it!
all the mothers
     strong enough
          to be a father too.
My mother is the woman who taught me to be a man.
She’s the kind of beautiful that made
Narcissus self-conscious in the first place

She captures the world on film
I capture her on my memory
I wouldn’t mind if I used
all the film I had on her

Her smile tells you it’s OK
To be yourself
Because we all doubt ourselves
Undeservedly

Walking in the night with her is
The most illuminating experience
I’ve never had my own sun
To revolve around

Being her reason to laugh makes me consider
Betrayal to the beauty of silence
Ego
You are kind, my flattering friend
So sweet you are to me
In your admiration
You often fail to see
How harmful your praise
And exclusive taste can be

You, my friend, are sweet
To love me like you do
For you seem to realize not
That your words are often untrue
Smashed together
cracked, mixed, stirred
swirls of laughs, fears, habits
Heated, cooled, fried
like my insides.
© Daniel Magner 2013
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