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I have never liked the term

      "sloppy seconds"
                  
                  I believe that we renew ourselves with each love
Walk away slowly
      Please don't run
Remember
    I'm still holding the gun
It's cocked
        And loaded....
Aimed at my temple
     Why didn't you listen?
The rules....
    WERE SIMPLE!!!
I handed you my heart
    Expecting you not to
        Break It!
You should've known it...
   I'm a ******* poet!
I can turn anything you say
     Into a **** ****** scene
Make you wish
      It was ALL A DREAM
But it's not
       And you're gone
I'm holding the trigger
          Thank God
I decided to use ink
      Instead of bullets...
 Sep 2015 Crystal Wright
Gabriel
Reticulated souls interwoven into a thousand yesterday's, folding all together in ways we cannot even say.

How many lifetimes spent in webs of emotional reverberations, always with the ones that contribute to blessed revitalization.

Where the paths cross we may never know, yet once found instant connections grow.

Out of thin air as if never a day was lost, always there like a rock covered in moss.

Deeper still are the emotional bonds held, as no matter the distance feeling are always felt.

A group of soul mates sharing lifetimes without measure, eternal universal links among the greatest unknown treasures.
They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you from the outside. They can't tell what's wrong with you.*

Is my illness truly  invisible?
Or am I just deluding myself again?
My thoughts are racing, falling, tumbling,
maybe their right to call me insane.

Don't ask me to speak because I don't want to;
words don't mean a thing any more
Instead I write and write onto sheets of white
into the abyss my heart is poured.

I hear their screams in my head all the time
a pleading in my ear,
I'm the one who's living this hell
so why is it me you fear?

I carry on breathing everyday
despite the creatures living inside
and I will keep living in every way
until one day I don't even cry.
There are few people I care about
more than I do myself
and your on your way to becoming one
so you better cry for help
The man with a crooked smile and big hands


A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was  an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.

At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.

A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door.
She had it in the things
I had clear from her room.
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.
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