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 Jan 2015
Dhaye Margaux
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
"I have given you a thousands of it. I cannot give more."

"I know you love me still."
"I know you can feel if it is true."

"You cannot live without me."
"Look at me. I am still alive."

"You can't get me out of your heart."
"You are just a fading memory. Bad memories should not stay."

"I promise I will change."
"That's a lie."

"I love you."
That's another lie."
like love
 Jan 2015
Poetic T
My  heart still beats
                  Upon tainted glass,
Though I was now empty
                                           My enclosed beats were of the
Memory when love was enclosed within me
Not within an enclosed space,
                                        Not with the emotions that
Now bleed within this clouded jar.
 Jan 2015
Amitav Radiance
My words
Convey
Deepest feelings
From the soul
Revived
With every drop
Of ink
Bridged
Is the chasm
Between me
and blank pages
Crossing over
To dwell
Among the lines
Betwixt
Are the meanings
I will create oceans and rivers
From the tears that flow from my eyes
And they will envelop the shores
Formed in the crest of my torso,
The valleys that lay in between my *******
Will protect wildlife from the raging winds
Of my breaths, and the shaking earth
Of my heartbeat
My thoughts will form stars and planets
And I will create my own galaxies
My fingertips will be the roots of trees that will stretch ever onwards
I will grow and I will grow
And I will destroy as I please
No laws hold me
For I am my own universe
Unbidden, unbound.
My heart feels heavy
There are weights
Suspended in my chest
And with every pulse,
Every beat, i sink
Into a cold chasm
Deep within myself
And eventually,
I will be lost there
So I hold fast onto
The last of me
My fragment of identity.
And my heavy heart
Continues to beat.
"I am
I am
I am
"
 Jan 2015
Ember Evanescent
Okay, you two. I want you to say sorry.
Now that she has said sorry, you have to say: That's okay.
There. Now it's all better.

**here is the problem with that, from a very young age, children are taught to simply SAY sorry, and not actually find remorse in themselves, they just say it whether they mean it or not, and they think there is no difference. The other problem: Even if you ARE sorry, not all things you do can be undone. Not everything IS "okay" now that you are sorry. Some things are unforgivable. It can't always be "all better".
just something from my childhood that my parents always had us say when there was a fight
 Jan 2015
Noah
Your art, like yourself
Is better than you think
 Jan 2015
Selio Aras
Isn't it ironic,
how we tell others to stay strong,
yet we cant do it ourselves?
Everyone seems to think
I am the “master” at
solving problems but,
I can't even figure out
how to solve my own…
 Jan 2015
skyblueandblack
Why is it so hard to find and keep love?
And why is the pain of the heart so much worse than the pain of the body?
And why does it seem that a death is more bearable than accepting that someone left you -
because in death they had no choice.

You walk away from each other with so many memories not yet created;
so much remaining unsaid,
so many dreams unshared,
because suddenly it doesn’t seem safe to share.
One moment that person is the closest soul to you;
and the next moment,
before even a full breath is taken,
that person is almost a stranger.

And the unsaid words consume you.

wanting to ask: if you love me,
why did you leave me?
wanting to tell you how much I miss you,
but knowing that I shouldn’t.
wanting to ask you to re-consider,
but knowing that I wouldn’t.

Thoughts dominate your every waking moment;
you sleep less yet you cannot stand being awake
because the pain is too much.
You try to occupy your mind with other things, other people – movies, reading, work, travel -
but nothing else exists.
A phantom of you carries you on with life, a shell gliding through the motions;
performing,
smiling in response to a smile,
laughing on cue…
When all you want is be away from it all,
lulled in the cocoon of your own thoughts,
wrapped in the blanket of the dark recesses of a place where you can finally break down,
surprised to find that sometimes the healing is worse than the break.

But fighting it takes too much effort,
Strangely, you find peace in giving in to the pain.
Because beneath the facade,
your soul is dissecting every word previously said.
His words run like a coiled fuse
across your mind and around your heart:
I can’t believe you’re mine“.

Behind the mirror of your eyes you are replaying every encounter;
trying so desperately to understand why;
wondering if you said something wrong,
did something wrong..
if maybe you had done things differently…
trying to make sense of what can never make sense.
needing answers you know you will never get.
You go through so many emotions,
so many conflicting feelings..
torn between anger and pain,
confusion and denial,
love and hate,
blame and understanding -

wanting to forget and wanting to hold on to the memories..
wanting to delete those pictures and wanting to save them forever.
and the cycle repeats.
.. and repeats..

Every moment, every memory, becomes so much clearer,
so much sharper -
like a razor blade in your mind;
more deeply engraved into the psyche of your soul.

And the reminders are everywhere..
because he was a part of your life, every part
and you thought it was forever.

You try so hard to forget..
But it ended too soon, and seems so senseless
like throwing away a bouquet of flowers before it even begins to wilt.

You tell yourself that people are who they are.
We cannot change them or ask them to want or be something they don’t want.
That no matter what they do to us, we have to accept that they are on their own personal journey.
And it is their right to seek their path as they see fit.

Perhaps that is how we grow, how we learn.
Perhaps their purpose in our life was simply to light that spark– and the rest is up to us.
Perhaps the purpose of Love is to always seek it, sometimes find it..
but never keep it.
perhaps Love is not ours for the keeping..

Your friends try to be there for you,
Offering an understanding ear to unburden your soul,
but your soul wants to hold on to its burden.
Offering a shoulder to cry on,
but no shoulder has enough strength for the load you carry.
Offering arms to embrace you,
but no arms will suffice when the only arms you want to fall into are those of the one who left you.
Offering sympathetic words that only serve to bring forth more of the tears you’re trying so hard to keep at bay..
You cannot risk letting anyone into the fragile sanctum of your Being as the wound is still precariously tender,
and the slightest quiver may open up floodgates you feel may never close again.

But Time passes by,
slowly but inevitably.
And, mercifully, the pain lessens a little each time you sleep and awaken.
The days alone become tolerable,
The nights that were once filled with loneliness become tranquil in solitude.
The once constant agony becomes the occasional twinge
when you smell a certain scent,
when you pass by the restaurant where you once shared a booth and enjoyed a meal,
when you see a happy couple holding hands as they walk by,
when you pass the place he first asked to hold your hand, and you shared your first kiss,
when you see the commercial for the television show you used to watch together that you can not bear to watch again
when you see a mildly familiar silhouette,
or in the hint of a smile that is almost like the one you remember,
or in the intense gaze of a passing stranger that is reminiscent of the one that haunts your dreams.

…and you can finally smile though the tears because the memories,
while once only painful -
are now painfully beautiful.

The pain passes but the beauty remains..

..and one day you realize you no longer count your growth in years,
but in the number of times your heart had been broken,
then scarred and healed again ~
like the growth rings of a tree,
growing stronger in the process.
http://skyblueandblack.com/2014/01/31/perhaps-love-is-not-ours-for-the-keeping/

“It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.” ~George Bernard Shaw
 Jan 2015
CA Guilfoyle
Strange glowing orb
mystical magnetic oracle
points us aimlessly
in and out of love
pushes and pulls
the tide, spellbound
sea wrecked, sandbarred
left high and dry
deep in the night
foolish we, two
fools of moon
 Jan 2015
Ashley
I've been cursed and crossed
Beaten by the ones who got me off
I've been cut and opened up
Shattered by the ones I thought I loved
But I keep coming back to the crime scene
All the while knowing that the dead can't speak
And there's nothing left to say anyway
I've been left cold in the crypt
Cold as the words on your lips
And yet I recognize your face
What a strange redemption
Your words bled me dry
Now dust falls from my wounds
As downward I'm cast
Feelings of regret permeates me, left always wanting
From these wounds I am redeemed
And I recall with such vivid clarity
The soft whispers of foolish notions
Too late I've realized my wrongs and carelessness
But believe me my regret runs deep,
No longer inspired you are better off without me
My life's been molded
Deceived by the foolish
The weak embody lies and herein lies the truth
This long battle has left me with scars, beyond repair
And time can't heal these wounds inside
What you believe is true today
may be proven false tomorrow.

Accept such change as it happens.
 Jan 2015
ryn
.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.
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