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Ari Fuyumuro Aug 2014
he is as vast as an ocean,
and as deep as the depths away from the shore.
there aren't any boats for him,
nor a lighthouse to show where to go.
when he envisions,
ideas pass by like the wind,
rippling the waves rhythmically
but he fears a storm to ruin the pattern.
every day, the weather changes
sometimes blanketing the sky with haze.
distorting endless hues of blue,
like steam on a mirror.
muse: to think about something carefully or thoroughly
Ari Fuyumuro Aug 2014
which had hurt me more?

knowing you didn't need me,

or thinking you did?
Ari Fuyumuro Aug 2014
closing in, you're paper thin,

you may not see, but i look in.

take a look at the walls,

look at them tear, look at them fall.
number of ways this poem can be taken:
-you've had enough of whatever you're going through that you eventually notice yourself crumbling like torn, withered paper
-noticing that crumbling in someone else
-etc
-(mine being) a friend who had plenty of faces to show off, but i was the only one who saw the differences. like wallpaper slowly being torn down to reveal one's true character.
Ari Fuyumuro Jul 2014
i wanted to hold
your hand

but i waited
far too long

because you saw me
and hid them

and when i asked where they were,
you turned away

and said they were gone.
Ari Fuyumuro Jul 2014
the last hiccup
slowly quiets in the sheet
and the last tear
plants it's home
in your pillow,
awaiting growth
of it's garden.
Ari Fuyumuro Jul 2014
the one with the eyes
so green or so blue,
stayed by the sea side
taking care of the view.
so she danced when it rained
and danced until night
and she stayed by the sea,
never leaving it's sight
Ari Fuyumuro Jul 2014
a place in the heart
holds so much
more than a palace
in the mind
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