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 Dec 2015 Belen Rubio
ryn
Goodnight
 Dec 2015 Belen Rubio
ryn
.
•i've depleted my font,
my creative well•for each
day passed, with a story to tell
•staining white and barren land-
scapes•by sculpting my words into
myriad shapes•from factory fumes to
a wedding ring•an ominous tombstone
to a flash of lightning•an hourglass to track
elapsing time•the untold story behind a loved

                   nursery rhyme•            |  
                   with this i conc-             |  
                lude my 30 day run          o  
•it's been quite a stretch but
all in good fun•rest assured that
more will come when the time is
right•for now i'll turn off my
bedside lamp and bid
you all a goodnight•

.
Concrete Poem 30 of 30

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Like a melody penetrating your soul...
Like a water stream cleaning your burdens...
Purifying your spirit from Rainy days...
Let you cry like a child, longing to sleep peacefully...
Like a flute of its own rhythm...
I didn't tell her that!.....
                                         But....
I kept hearing her voice!...
Trying to heal myself and unable to give her the credit...
                                I might be afraid! Afraid of...
Losing the privilege I gave myself without permission...
Not hearing her voice anymore...
                                         I'm sorry.......
                                It is not the voice only!
It is everything in her, even the face... even eyes have their own touch...
                                      Her Voice was the....
                                             Trigger!
When you write about someone and she doesn't know!
That really has another flavor, which can't be understood in words or even can be defined by human terms!
 Dec 2015 Belen Rubio
ylruceiram
I don't really know if this is pain I'm feeling

It felt foreign yet very familiar at the weirdest ways

It almost felt like home

It almost felt like my mother lulling me to sleep

But one thing I only know is that I'm so used to be in pain that I can't even recognize it anymore
IDK WHY  I WROTE THIS.

— The End —