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 Apr 2016 Chloe Phillips
-df
Isn’t it funny how our minds work?

We write novels of how our lives should be.

We make up stories to comfort our thoughts.

We imagine that our crushes are perfect, and that we’re meant to be.

In other words, we believe in the impossible.

(-DF-02/24/16-)
 Mar 2016 Chloe Phillips
Sam
This...
 Mar 2016 Chloe Phillips
Sam
You heard everything I said in silence...
I'm once again speechless.
 Mar 2016 Chloe Phillips
JAI
How could it be so possible?
That we realize ******* ironies in this world
Just like how love could keep us together
But too much of it could actually destroy
How could it be so possible?
I could ******* offer every skin of myself
But it still wouldn’t be enough
But I will stand here and stay
How could it be so possible?
I will still love you
Even if it will hurt
And hurt even more
Just like how
It hurt me before
There's been a miscommunication
Between my heart and my mind
Electrical impulses at every synapse
Scream your name in adoration
In every neuron they will find
That there has been a collapse
It's caused by my love for you

All that I know to be true
Is that there has been a malformation
A terrible replication of some kind
The one that courses violently perhaps
It fills my mind with all this information
To all else I've gone blind
A neural take over that I can't surpass
Because my body knows that I love you
Written and shared on Hello Poetry on January 19, 2016. Copywrite under Bianca Reyes. All rights reserved
 Jan 2016 Chloe Phillips
Em
Sunshine
 Jan 2016 Chloe Phillips
Em
When I was younger,
my mother would sing
you are my sunshine,
and I knew she loved me.

When I was older,
my pap whistled to my gram
I've got sunshine on a cloudy day,
and I knew he loved her.

Now I'm grown,
and I tell you every morning
I'm a ray of sunshine,
hoping that maybe you'll love me, too.
{there are infinite ways to love someone}
My love
Is a poem translated  
Meaningless

Between the lines
It germinated
And bloomed
And floundered
In the memory of
The fallen flower


Wounded seriously
Fighting
With the insects
Buried themselves
Between the petals
My poem
Now
Is a morsel of
Crumbled words

Translated by the unknowns
With the pen
Filled with poison
This fallen poem itself
Is my love.
my love
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