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  Apr 9 Ruheen
Phil Meup
A question mark

Is half a heart
and without you
I'm torn apart,
We're torn in two.

I'm left here  
With no right to ask.
Yet I can't go in circles.
Because isn't half a heart

A question mark?
Ruheen Apr 1
"Let me in?" I asked
She said, "Could you please go back"
Gave her my hand,
But she let it fall.

I picked it back up
But she was already gone;
I watched her walk away,
Smiling at the Sun
And I melted.

She was in the rain,
She was in the grass,
And I couldn't help but smile
When I saw her laugh.

I wanted people to see what I saw
Because it's better to be held
Than holding on
To nothing, nothing at all

She wanted to be by herself
And I swear I understood
Alone, but not lonely
But what about me?

Why couldn't she understand
That she was too good
For this world and its people
And to just stay hidden

She pushed me away
I couldn't be with her
But I watched and I smiled
So imagine the others
How would they see what I saw?

Now she's gone
And I remember everything
Every moment, every smile,
Every crinkle of her eyes

I'm not fine
She left without a word
And no one seems to know
But me and a few others

She was too good
For this world
She was too good to just
Sit in her world

I wanted her to be loved
The way I love her
And now I'm not fine
Because all I can do is remember.

She wanted to be by herself
Just her in her innocent world
And I swear I understood
She was alone, not lonely
But what about me?
Remediation of "She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways" by William Wordsworth in the speaker's POV.
Ruheen Mar 27
Happy endings
Sad endings
All of the above
Not a part two. Just a fitting title. I don't know.
  Mar 21 Ruheen
I'm going on an adventure,

A perilous journey,

Filled with exhilarating triumphs,

And desperate lows...

Oh yes...

My voyage to the fridge from the couch was fraught with danger.
Ruheen Mar 21
I'm being an emotional fool.
A typical teenager, if you will.
What else did you expect?
Ruheen Mar 21
I remember the inside:
A little red; a bit of grey.
Rows of leather seats and carpeted floors.
But it was when the journey began,
And I sat down,
My feet dangling over the edge,
Just like my anticipation -
They told me we'll be under the sea.
But I felt us moving;
The slow hum I heard eased me.
My eyes flickered to the window,
My parents' voices faded,
As I watched my reflection.
Then I noticed her. In the window.
I recognized her,
From where we had left.
It was while I was on my feet,
Hand clasped in my mother's,
But eyes fixed on her.
The girl sat waiting, sketchbook in her lap,
Pencil in her hand with her legs crossed.
It was crowded and clamorous,
Yet she paid no attention,
Her gaze set on her art,
Her movements steady.
The girl's raven hair was tied
And I think she wore something blue.
We went in together.
We sat on the left,
She sat on the right,
And drew.
And drew.
And drew.
And her pencil left dark marks on snow-like paper,
As her hands moved fast, then slow.
I couldn't help but watch.
I strained to look away,
But the window only showed…
Black. Bricks.
Darker than her hair. And her pencil.
We were underwater, but I didn't care.
I was more intrigued by the girl
Who sat so close, but was so far away.
Practically living in a different world.
I was helpless, shy, way too curious.
I wondered what she was thinking. And drawing.
It was pure, innocent, fascination.
Then the train stopped.
She stopped.
I stopped.
Because we had arrived.
We left.
She was gone.
I was bored.
A memory
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