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As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts
This may well be my last poem here.
It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break
Insomniac nights are the worst. And it's been going on like this for quite awhile.
 Dec 2014 blossomanna
Dorotea
I wanna run.
Feel free.
I wanna  explore the world all by myself
and maybe even find love on my way.
Desire is tremendous.
I'm scared.
I still wanna go.
 Dec 2014 blossomanna
Dorotea
Play me.
Play me like piano keys.
Play me piano, pianissimo.
Play me forte, fortissimo.
Play me like a song, gently.
Play me with feeling.
Play.
 Dec 2014 blossomanna
KA
As the touching sun rises, your day unfolds in its glory.
The light of the day asks, " Will you live your life today?"





KT April 30, 2014
 Dec 2014 blossomanna
Liz Hill
Shot follows shot.
Drinks on drinks.
Baccardi courses through my bloodstream.
I'm drowning in ***** and in my memories of you.  
And the acid burning its way to my stomach,
Is easier to handle than the hollow feeling when I'm sober.
To lie or not to lie - that is the question:
Whether 'tis better to keep the truth
Shutting the light in the dark,
Or to bring upon pain or pleasure
Why, by bringing truth, gain unwanted reaction. To lie, deceit -
No more - and by secret to say what we want to say
The will of truth and lie
That flows from lips - 'tis an infection
One craved by all. To lie, deceit -
Deceit, perhaps too much. Ay, there's the problem.
For in that deceit of truth what pathologic lieing may come.
When we have gained such filthy pleasure from this lie,
Must force us thought. That's the reality
That makes chaos of such pleasure.
For who really wants to hear or speak an ugly truth,
The lover's love gone, the child's art trash,
The woman's ugly face, the man's unattractive body,
The co-worker's stench, and the embarrassing blemish
That gives opportunity for lie,
When they themselves would appreciate
Why give them heart ache? Who would give them truth,
To give them hurt,
But the chance they would enjoy the truth,
The unknown glee from fate's unlucky victims
For the victim's mind confuses the liar
And makes the liar want to speak truth
And to see that reaction instead.
Thus turning pathologic lieing into suthe saying,
And thus the addicting infection
Is cured with the disease of truth,
And infection seems less appealing
With this regard the lies soon stop
And lose what effect they once had.
This was an old high school assignment I found today. We worked on Hamlet and had to turn his soliloquy into one of our own, so I made one about lieing!
 Sep 2014 blossomanna
Liz Hill
One year,
     nine months,
          nine days.

You walked into my life
and turned it on its head.
You taught me what love was
and what love wasn't.
You showed me
how to save myself from
the darkness in my mind.
And in return, I gave you
a piece of my heart.

You gave me a forever in 648 days.

But ultimately,
you showed me that
everyone leaves eventually.

And as hard as it is to believe,
goodbyes(or lack there of) are a forever too.
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