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LN Sep 2014
If the moon has any secrets to tell,
I would be sitting tonight
with silver linings around my irises
waiting for it to spill
its blood red musings.
LN Sep 2014
I've turned you into poems,
and tears and scars
but tonight,
your legacy under my skin
and in my journal
will be erased
you are no longer worthy of my words.
LN Sep 2014
the idea of being part
of a planet that is up in flames
scares me
i am afraid
i hate to be part of the ashes
after peace will burn out forever.
LN Aug 2014
we express in verses and tears,
and love people that won't love us back.
LN Aug 2014
I desire madness,
but until then, I cannot forget you.
LN Aug 2014
There are burn marks under my skin.

Underneath this protective layer,
your words have touched me
and have not left scars until now.

Upon realizing the bitterness of your departure,
the echo of your voice
bumps and bruises my insides every day,
every minute.

There are burn marks under my skin,
from the words trapped inside
that cannot find a way to leave.
I am internally combusting tonight,
consumed by you.
LN Aug 2014
The thing about poetry,
is that it's important to be observant
not only of the words written
but of the strength of the emotions
that cascade behind the curtain of letters that you read.
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