Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Annette Michael Nov 2016
Run, fall and get up but Portraits are not pictured.
All things placed with movements of fingers look down at toes only to wonder ;
Of questions that seam through groves leaving worms and dirt in friendly shoes.
It's no begging or request but no eyes lift up to appreciate.

Thy garden is thine own with no fragrances throned.
It's not what thine does but is not what is done as others do.
It is to be different but expectations don't differ.
As thy ought to be cheese that be easy to slice as well rot.  

No truth to be seen in close proximity but a fake city in all it's vanity.
Positions and steps with words profound Every inch and move is as a hound;
To be cured of fallings and errors bred.

For each move in thine thought endings are to be fed
As Portraits belong to sequestered sets.
Annette Michael Feb 2016
It is your love that saved me sometimes.
From the scares that play my super ego
During my time under the sun
And with no hustle they ease into my id.

Your love holds me my consciousness;
Your love holds me my ego.
It keeps me from falling apart and
Losing my mind and self.
From the nightmares that...
That are meant to be buried
Deep down in my mind and secure
That abyss of repression.

Poorly they still seem to linger on
Because of their due unfinished business.
But you somehow have
My ego hooked onto you.
Annette Michael Feb 2016
Let me hold your face like you want me to
Let me dry away your tears like you've dried mine too
Let me show you my love like the bands around our fingers tied
Let me knot your tie to work at morn and help you out and feed your shoulder with my touch of care and love
Let me serve you dinner and kiss your forehead to ease the pain
Let me assure you that you have me even with a 0 balance in our bank account
Let me love you and show you how much
Because I love you And I will.. Always
Annette Michael Jan 2016
me.
I scream to be me
Believe me I do
You can't hear me because you don't see what I do.
I scream to be me.

I try to show you
Yet you don't see.

My scars bled speaking to you
But,all you did was cross over
Now having them marked for you.

There's a queue in my mind of a question of whys
But all fail to answer me why.

I scream to be me
Yet you did not see me for me.

— The End —