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If I were a painter,
I'd paint you the hundreds
of marigold leaves
hanging on the branches
of our one-lane street.

I'd color the canvas
with the image of myself
blowing air on the flames
of our Sunday-night fire,
watching it dance to life.

If I were able to
mix the oils just right,
I could shine a flashlight
through the fence to find
the deer as it rustled in the bushes.

If I had the finest Parisian brushes,
I'd seal our memories forever,
hanging them in rustic frames
on the walls of our home
where they could be

remembered daily
rather than just
once-in-a-while
when the campfire smoke
finally jogs our memory.
 Sep 2016 Andy Rivera
gwen
I wish I could feel emotion as a singularity.
just one, intense emotion,
one engulfing thought devouring all of my being.
one singular, unitary, simple drive.
powerful.
as a black hole devours all particles of any existence,
even light itself.

they say that if you stood on the edge of one,
hovering at the point of no return,
time becomes as simple as space.
the universe is no longer a mystery.
the Big Bang as quiet as
that abandoned swing on the playground.
space and time are but children,
gravity that kid who
forgot his lunchbox.

no subjective meanings,
no in-betweens,
no emotions.

sometimes I wish I could see
my thoughts as binary,
or my memories as morse.
sometimes I wish I could understand
that we are nothing but the sum of our parts,
the outcome of a spectacular binding
of cell to cell:
a container of molecules.
that sadness is a school brawl between chemicals,
happiness an accidental firework
set off by a wayward alchemist.
all irregularities, as explained by
human error.

but the only thing human about an error
is the error itself;
the most fragile thing about a human
is his humanity;
the closest we can ever be to God
is on the verge of our own ruin.


weightlessness is only felt
halfway off a building,
freedom only gained
halfway away from home,
love only experienced
as one half of a broken heart.

there is no light without darkness,
no warmth without the cold,
no way to experience things
two at a time.
we will always exist in paradoxes,
as one or the other.
as a singularity.

the only place we can be God is
right here -- on the event horizon,
the point of no return.
 Sep 2016 Andy Rivera
oh me oh my
They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.

Why?

Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.


She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.


The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.





But you haven't come back.
EDIT: Wow. Never expected this to blow up as big as it did. I thank you all so much!
EDIT: 2/15/14
i would say i never loved you, but that is a lie.
they say that your *first* love makes *you realize*, your first *love* wasnt really your first.
i pray for the day this happens.
*getting over you was the best thing i ever did.
and i did it for myself.*
so, one last:
*******.
you.***
EDIT: 9/14/14
i still hate you.
and you don't deserve her.
EDIT:   12/01/14
im sorry. you still arent
the same person
and neither is she.
but we all grow up.

EDIT
10/14/20
I was going through my bookmarks
on my old computer and found my old writings.
I just wanted to update this one last time to say things are better,
things are good. Thanks again for all the likes and comments.
 Sep 2016 Andy Rivera
Pixievic
I gaze upon your beauty
Breathtaking in its wonder
I lie nestled in exquisite solitude
Beholding your majesty
King to my Queen
In hushed reverence
Dominating my vision
Noble in simplicity
I surrender myself to your moment
Giving up my heart
Abandoning all sensibility
Knowing you will never forsake me
Lulled by the gentle flooding
Of desire to never leave this place
Or your fascination

(C) Pixievic
In holiday in one of my favourite places ..... The title is the Welsh name for where I am Anglesey - North Wales
 Sep 2016 Andy Rivera
Aeerdna
I remember the days when we were two stupid kids,
we were eating blackberries grown on tombs
and the moon was just a big stone
the sun was leaving its last breath on.

Now I am looking for you on the Wood street
where you last time smiled at me,
on the Wood street where people eat with their hands
the remains  of those burned by unhappiness,
while fools sing about love and dreams and the holes in their hearts.

I am looking for you
and I don't know whether you are a human or a dream
or the ash
that slips through my frozen fingers.

Maybe you are just the hole in my soul,
maybe the moon is more than a big stone,
maybe I loved you
maybe
you are still there somewhere
in the Sun's last breath.
Maybe it's just your smile
that has burned
covering my soul
my hands.
 Sep 2016 Andy Rivera
Aeerdna
I have thirteen bruises on my right leg
but none of them hurt as the one
you left on the left side of my heart.

there's a photograph on my bedside table
you thought the sun will shine
whenever I'd look at it,
now you have gone,
the sky in the picture has turned to something dark
no room for sun,
and there's dust on the photograph and you
you are just a shadow
on the sidewalk I fall on letting all the rain pour down on my soul,
and the sun is just a memory
and you are just an excuse to turn my smiles into tears
and I am just the dust
falling on your lungs.

and we were just a glimpse of happiness,
an illusion
a dream,
a lie I listen to
before my eyes close,
before the darkness comes in.

— The End —