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She was aesthetic... not because of the way she laughed or the way her eyes sparkled whenever she talked about something she loved and not because of the way she used to bite her lower lip whenever she was lost deep in her thoughts.
But, simply because of the way she perceived the world. She was full of positivity and her aura spoke volumes about all the captivating mysteries that made her who she was.
I want you but you didn't want me
Sometimes you  just have to accept things
that aren't going to happen
the way you wanted to be.

That's why acceptance is a hard choice sometimes
And you just have to let it be ...
Below your beautiful face
There are two beautiful mountains
On the top of that each two beautiful mountains
There are two beautiful stars

Below that two beautiful mountains
There's a hole .....
A hole that you and your mother
used to link to each other

Below that hole
There's a river ...
A river that no man can ever sail it
Except for the man with success ......
So I brushed my hair
Twice!
With a fine tooth comb,
Until my hair flowed
Like silken water
And soft to the touch.

I scrubbed at my face
As if that soap and water
Would wash away
All my blemishes and past mistakes.

And when I was ready
I thumbed the blue dress
That look as though
It was for an adult dressed as a child.

"Blue like the ocean, blue like your eyes"

Im standing in the hallway,
Like a statue-perfect girl
With the eyes of my ancestors
Peering from the walls.
I held my breath
Like the breaths captured in all those peering eyes.

Today I would look perfect,
Like your darling little girl.
I know I am grown now
But on my birthday, I still hope you'll return.
i see
the way
you look
at my
skin
and
the want
in your
eyes
consumes
me.
For those of you
who wonder if the devil is alive.

Ive seen him,
with my own eyes...

This is not a metaphor or a
symbolistic write of someone
who hurt me.

Nor,
is it a venom word spit
of someone that has made
me bleed.

For,
That kind of beauty
does not come from
human breed.

Take heed.

Because the Devil
is real.

and he is beautiful...
it is not the red horns
you see in books

or

the grotesque voice
that boils the feeling of
evil afoot...

No,
he is all shimmer
and wicked smiles.

Beauty is his strongest deception.
That way
it feels worth while.

And that,
is the most disturbing part...

We are obsessed...

with him,

and we do not even know it.

This is the harshness of being
a poet.

It is the beautiful things that make
our work.

The hurt
is his smirk.

But,
do not believe if you wish...
you do not have to take my words
as true.



But one thing I must say...
whether you accept it or not.




He definitely believes,
in you.
 Jun 2015 Rea Mae Y Calingo
Blank
Am I still a Writer?
If I have already
lost
my motivation to write.

Am I still a Believer?
If all I once
believed
are now the reason
why I refuse to hope.

Am I still the girl with big nerdy glasses?
If all I can
ever see
is failures and hurt and sadness.

Am I still me?
If I already lost myself.
Because I don't know myself anymore.
this is love?
this is what people die for? cry for? long for?
this is love?
this is what people beg for? lie for? crash for?

no.
this is not love.

love is supposed to be like coffee in the morning,
like the first sunshine after a week of rain,
like seeing your first sunset by the beach.

love is supposed to be beautiful, and light
it is supposed to be new, and fresh
it is supposed to be real, and true

no.
this is not love.
this is some lame excuse.

love is not supposed to be like hangover in the morning,
love is not supposed to be like losing your favorite hanky,
it's not supposed to be like getting the flu on your birthday.

no.
this is not love.
my mind runs away to you,
i know where it wants to be.
i want you to know,
you're the one designed for me.
keep your head down & make it to me.

so sick of this loneliness,
so much to get off my chest.
i'll wait here patiently.
you're the one made for me,
a distant stranger that i will complete.

i know you're out there,
**just make it to me.
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