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In my darkest hour, the veil was lifted,
Showing me a face I had long known drifted.
She talked and gazed for hours on end,
Ripping the heart that others helped mend.
I can not lie when I say what my feelings are,
I can not say what is in my heart.
Only pain and sorrow lie ahead from here,
Pain that can only make me shed a tear.
I know I should run and flee away,
But why should I not stay where I lay?
Am I wrong for wanting this feeling to live within?
Or should I send it back to the darkness of sin?
Being as I am is not the way it should be,
To be with love is what my soul should see.
To follow this feeling is ill and demented,
But for healing within, old wounds should be revisited.
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Nevermore
I can think

You can't hear it, because I don't say what I think
You can't see it, because I don't do what I think

I think... but can not

But when I write, I hide behind my words

And then
I can say what I want
I can do what I want

Atleast...
I think so
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Mayah Seals
A baby face
Gorgeous eyes
Dark brown hair
And a glasses kind of guy
Your slender frame
Your welcoming smile
Your cute little laugh
Your awesome style
When we first met
I only saw you as a friend
But now I am wondering
Are you a new chapter, before my story ends?
Filled with such glee
A grinning idiot
Fuel'd by nothing more
Than a nostalgic tune.
This song holds such happy memories that i found myself grinning :)
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Abbie Argo
silence
if far
more terrifying
than the
loudest
scream

the cold
shoulder
of an old
friend

the anger of
a new one

shattering the night
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Abbie Argo
be still
my
brain

it is far past
your
bedtime
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Abbie Argo
the parabola
of your umbrella
as you offer it to the girl
becoming
increasingly
damp
in the rain

the ellipse
of your lips
against
hers

the circle
of your ring
around her
pretty little finger

the hyperbola
of your backs
arched away from
each other
as you sleep
soundly
in your bed

(if only she were me)
 Jun 2013 Chrys Pages
Abbie Argo
tell me the story
about the time
when the blade
across your wrist
didn't feel as good
as the taste of air
against your lips
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