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To you my dear
To your heart I go
To the life you promise with me
  but first theres something you should know
Im not kind
Im not sweet
  and I dont want your love
I just want to kiss you and so
thats what I have to say to you my dear.
I was sitting in a stream
Watching dragonflies, when I decided
I hated my lives
Both of them
Every single moment

I was sitting in the shade
Crying to myself, when I knew
I had only one thing left
He’s all I had
And so I died

I was suspended in water
But not alone, when I was dying
Now that life has gone
The pain was gone
I rose out of the water

I was sitting in a tree
Absolutely terrified, as I remembered
Back to before I died
So scared
So alone

I was sitting in that tree
Singing, when I realized
I wasn’t hurting
I was sound
I was happy

I was sitting on the porch
Swinging, when I saw the sky
A bird there was humming
You were gone
But you never left

I was standing on a stage
Thinking, when at last I was happy
I was singing
They all listened
Even the bird

I was sitting in a stream
Alone, when I was enlightened
My heart found a home
I found peace
Pain left on the dragonflies

I was stuck in a shadow
Dying, when my anxiety controlled me
Kept me there lying
To myself
In my pain

I am standing in a room
Speaking, now I come rising
Out of the shadowed hiding
From dark to light
This is how anxiety died
I feel like triangles i cant seem to make sense
i feel like a ball thats had its insides torn to shreds
i remember me being important when i thought that i wasnt
but now that im not i seem to notice
the dresses i wear hit my ankles hit my toes
I hate how i look
even when i wear my cloths
i thought i was smart
someone to ask help of
i thought i was worthy of your love
the more i type
the less i know
i dont make sense anymore
i dont have strenght anymore
i dont have the hope i hade before
i feel
absoluty
pointless
Don't you see them?
I do.
Every day they walk around
they smile
they pretend they're happy.
And we believe them
we beleive that crap
that a boy cant cry
its not good to yell
getting mad is bad
well I dont believe it
I've seen them
I've been them
Just another dead shell walking
just another day
just another
just
us
Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-
Edit: Thank you everyone. It has meant a lot.
 Feb 2014 Dominique Arnold
marina
i.
no matter what your teachers
may tell you, your grades are not a
measure of how smart you are, that
has more to do with how you handle your
heart, and i have never seen anyone love
more fiercely or smart than you.  

ii.
i have let boys touch me just because
i was scared to lose them; don't let them
lay a hand on you without you asking
them to, you are worth more than that.

iii.
people will walk away, but you've known
that already.  keep your chin up so that when
they turn back one last time, they know that
you don't need them.
you don't need them.

iv.
i hope you find somebody that holds your
hands, even when you're nervous and
they start to sweat.  if they pull away,
you come find me and i swear,
i won't let go.
i just love her more than words
She was pretty.
Scratch that.
She was beautiful.
Scratch that too.

She was more beautiful,
Than a sunrise on a winter morning.
Or a rainfall on an autumn day
Where the leaves dance in the wind
And fill the sky with life.
More beautiful than a flower
That breaks through the cracks
Of a concrete garden
And brings color to the air.
She was more beautiful,
Than any poem that's ever been written.

She was beautiful.
Scratch that.
She still is.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
©Sebastian @http://hellopoetry.com/sebastian/
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