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kiss my lips
tell me i'm pretty

grab my thighs
tell me you miss me

clutch my hips
tell me I'm your only one

look me straight in the eyes
tell me you need me

break my heart
and tell me you love me.
sometimes i feel too much
sometimes i feel too little
i wish i could stay in that happy place
that lies right in the middle

when i feel too much
it's a torrent of emotion
a downpour of epic proportion
and i pray for it to end

yet when it does i don't feel enough
i'm numb, frozen, depressed.
I then pray for this to end
and i'd do anything to feel again

so i'm stuck in this happy limbo
never feeling quite right
like goldilocks in the three bear's house
i can't sleep at night
Being suicidal doesn't mean i'm going to **** myself

Being suicidal is having this unexplicable ache while you're living

It's waiting for your life to end, and wishing you didn't have to carry on

Having this ache, an incapability to feel happy living, doesn't mean that I am going to **** myself -

It just means I wouldn't mind dying.
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I suppose it's better that way.
User cannot be found.
So I wouldn't try to say "Hey"
User cannot be found.
A hole grows larger in my heart.
User cannot be found.
This is absolutely tearing me apart.
User cannot be found.
I'm sustained by the memories I keep.
User cannot be found.
And by the dreams that haunt me in my sleep.
User cannot be found.
I hope you're doing alright.
User cannot be found.
And that someone is appreciating you, holding you tight.
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If you all enjoyed this one, I urge you guys to check out my other poetry, as this one to myself is good but I'm much more proud of some of my others. Thank you all so much for your support and kind words. Glad you all could relate as I just wrote how I felt.
My gender
My ****** orientation
My disability
My problems
My colour of skin
My size
My voice
My place of origin
My clothes
My religion
My past
My mistakes
My label
Shouldn't be the determination of how you treat me
(c)Ibarker
my brain is a clenched fist
and five acres of jungle
have burned
as you've read this;

humanity, spitting in the face of peace is
wholly miraculous, but a blind eye of mud;

your planet is a cosmic apple
what is god
sustains the creature.
---

the Thylacine, otherwise known
as the Tasmanian tiger,
was one of only two marsupials
in which both sexes harbored a pouch;
an equal home without genetic
misogyny; by 1936, the Thylacine,
the harbinger of the unlocked jaw,
the carrier of equal protection
had been hunted to extinction

---
with capillaries like ingrown flowers,

careless, hapless human fingers
tore a genome into garbage
piles as you have read this;

harvesters are celebrated
all, together germinated
with minuscule ignorant hands

we nurture ourselves into dust
with concrete, reinforced eyes

thinking the world a zoo
and that we are separate

but wolves can change the course of rivers,
think of freeway infrastructure

think of cows knee deep in ****
in former verdant land

this abomination with teeth
is a blue light in an ocean of darkness

and if we mine the root for the fruit
the tree will fall out of the sky.
I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I'm gay
it kind of
spills off my tongue
when I don’t want it to
an
impulse
a
burning choke in my throat
falling out of me when I wish it would stay inside
when strangers are around
when
they really don’t need to know

it’s painted on my face
it’s written on the backs of my hands
my collarbone is burning white hot with a tell
and my eyes watering every secret of it

can they tell?
can everyone see right through me?
I’m
too scared to ask
somehow
also too scared to keep it inside

It wants out more than anything
but
she wants to be safe more than anything
When  you  are  young.
The  village  seems  only
one  field  away.
You  can  skip  it  in  no  time.

Middle  aged  it  feels
two  fields  away.
And  is  getting  a  bit  
of  a  bore.

When  you  are  old
it  seems  like  three  fields
Almost  Impossible  to  walk.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.
Flowers
Are a reminder
That without a little rain
We wouldn't be able to bloom,

Without clouds
And a little bad weather
We wouldn't be able to smell
Their divine fragrant perfume.

Flowers
Are a reminder
That we need gloomy days
So we can highly value
The sun's radiant,
Life-powering, life-giving light,

Because without
Any form of darkness
We wouldn't appreciate
The glorious clear-blue skys
And the gift of precious daylight.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
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