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Why do I
ask for more
When I do have
enough ?

Why do I
look around
when I know
there is no
happiness to be found?

Why do I
speak lies to myself
when I already
know the fact ?

Why do I
make my life
unnecessarily difficult
by expecting
a lot more from me ?

Why do I do the things that I do?
What am I trying to do , trying to prove ?
Nothing makes sense to me ,
I do not make sense at all on reasons ,
why I do things that do not help me .
She's a very honest soul,
A brave soul without care.
She will tell you of her day
so listen to the words
she speaks.
She will hide things,
But she will tell you
When you feel like
Listening.
She won't ever force
You to say anything
Or ever force you
To do anything
For her.
She's beautiful,
Smart, creative
and definitely
caring.
She's able to bring up
any topic to talk about
so awkward silences
are non existent with her.
When you look into her eyes
If you haven't fallen in love
You definitely will.
There's a shine that
is indescribable.
The moon light can't compare
To the shine that glimmers
in her eyes.
If you can make her look
at you with that shine,
consider yourself a lucky man.
You will never find an angel
Who will be able to care
While at the same time
Make you laugh without a care.
Cherish her every second
Cherish her every moment
Because you have won the lottery,
Love her with all your heart
and make her happy.
If I could pick someone to be
With right this moment,
I would pick her.
So you should realise
Just how lucky you are.
You definitely do not
want to lose her.
Watch as the sun rises and sets
And you'll realise,
Her beauty is way beyond
Any of that.
Make her happy for me,
I just want you to make
her smile.
                 Love her
Like I never had
                 The chance
to.
This is a repost of an old poem that I really have loved for myself.
To be born is innate
Yet we change a lot
Challenging our fate
And trying to cut the knot

To face our fears
To conjure our strengths
To love one so dear
And travel great lengths

To change our skin
Like a trickster fox
To bare all within
And go outside the box

Our time we all but borrow
Wisely must be spent
Through the great dark sorrow
And the great joy of content

For this human strife
Alone we fiercely met
To be one with life
And be at peace with death
The mind of a human contemplating the meaning and purpose of life.
 Mar 2017 Aylin Belrose
Grez
Giggle giggle **** ****
chuckle chuckle hard heart.
Lose the formal wording part,
just rhyme with nonsense works of art

**** art
Words are art
Parts of art
Those parts of art seen with your
hard heart
Soften up and see the humour
With a giggle giggle **** ****
My son laughed so it made it on here <3
 Mar 2017 Aylin Belrose
Gidgette
I was in the cemetery again, this noon
Dandelion graves and lost stones
Dwelling atop a hidden hill
Deep within the pines
Not my cemetery
Not ancient
I laid
Upon a certain grave
It had my name
Amanda
One of only two stones with
Still visible words
Unwashed by
Time
She was only 17, passing
Married, buried
With child
Baby
A long lost to time
Child bride
Of the
1800's
For her to be in that particular cemetery
She had to be a soldiers wife
Confederate, rebel
I mourned her
The stone residing next to hers
was worn by wind and time
A dandelion grave
~A
Cemeteries are a morbid habit of mine. The particular cemetary I speak of here, is called Boot Hill. A civil war cemetery. Amanda's grave was one of very few female graves I've found in war graveyards. Her stone said,"With her child." And indeed, as early as it is in this season, that cemetery was covered with dandelions.
Poetry connect lives ,
each word
fill a canvas with
different shades .
It draws the outline
of many emotions .
The art drafts
the stories of lives
people all around the world
 Mar 2017 Aylin Belrose
Abs
loving you is like how a car can crash into a tree on kettle run rd at 1:49 am on a thursday night in january.

a journey, progressing quickly. very quickly. 2 and a half months or 94 mph, (you decide).
a rush of energy, traveling instantaneously. so instantaneous that windows and hair are both down and every second spent gets its own little freedom.
an impact, all at once. maybe its emotions, pain, or a mix of both but i can feel all in less than a single, lonely second.
the aftermath, that would be worth grieving over. the nights of sitting on my bed thinking about where you are, who you’re with or if you’re able to breathe. i usually end my nightly thoughts by remembering how you were finally able to pick the drugs over me.
you needed me. I needed you to hurt me. you drove me. you made me hurt.

our car crashed.
heartache
Yesterday,
I Googled your name,
I searched under “image”,
Nothing came….
I dialed your phone,
It made me nervous,
A strange voice said it was “out of service”,
Your room is empty,
So is your chair,
I just can’t find you anywhere,
I looked in the mirror,
What else could I do?
Something familiar,
I look like you,
Sometimes your children are all that is left,
If I stare to long,
I get upset,
It’s only me,
10 years you’re gone,
Oh how I miss you, mom
©B L Costello 2017
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