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he's here

and once again i fall slowly
light as a feather
gravitating to the river
to be washed away
by the peaceful flow
After lengthy days of torment and grief
Braving the cold, remained the last leaf
Feeling the slightest breeze
She slowly danced with grace and ease
Like a ballerina driven by the sound of her heartbeat
She made her final dance
And with her gorgeous golden autumn wings
She’s now ready for winter’s frigid embrace
Do the flowers mourn when one is picked?
I know that question is kinda morbid and sick.
But I’ve always wondered if they somehow know,
Like for weddings and birthdays that it’s their time to go?

Do they feel sorry for lovestruck dames,
That pull off petals whilst saying their crushes’ names,
That pulled the last petal on “He loves me not”?
Do they feel bad that she’s distraught?

Do they compete on who’s the prettiest?
Each person has an opinion of which flower is the best,
Of their looks are they actually aware,
Do flowers even care?
All I ever wanted was for someone to listen
I wanted someone to pay attention
To tell me things would get better
And that happiness would last forever
I wanted someone to give me advice
All about my life to notice
I wanted someone to understand
To support and lend me a hand
I wanted someone who'd never leave me alone
To know me from deep inside my bone
I wanted someone to love me
As far as the end of the galaxy
I wanted someone to treat me with respect
To make me feel a little perfect
I wanted someone to make me feel special
And to not make my life seem so small
I wanted someone to wipe away all of my tears
Helping me get over my fears
I wanted someone to be my friend
To always bring my misery to an end
the cold air
can be seen
every time
we take a breath

my tears sting
as they race
down my cheeks
to soak into my scarf

my hand has
gone numb
and no longer had
yours to hold

Christmas music plays
jingling merrily
as my heart
shatters to the beat.

the words
dancing off your lips
hanging in the air
as if they were mistletoe

”i’m sorry”
i watch as you turn your back
and walk away
for the last time.
In the pursuit of happiness
I found you,  but somewhere I lost me
You set my heart on fire
You set my dreams free
I loved our little chatter
I loved your every little thing
But now that I look back
It all just leaves a sting

I never realized when you drifted apart
I still kept holding onto the string
You crushed my little heart
And all I could do was sing

Sang the songs of my pain  
Sang the songs of my screams
I never knew it was all in vain
It was all just a broken dream
Thank you all for the response on this, I’ve stopped writing since a while back but the response on this made me wanna pick up the pen back again!!! Thank you everyone for the reigniting the love ai had for this art!
~

moonlight spilling from her eyes
magic pouring from her lips
the universe in audience of her beauty
even the stars would weep with envy


~
I have a fascination with
all things love,
Daydreams constructing expectations
and a daily need for a thing which
I have yet to experience,
It's an obsession which has
evolved into a fear ~
Fear of a broken heart,
of a lonely life,
of distracted dreams.

~ Funny my ability to
overthink.
Before my first day of school
I knew how to read and write

But mom thought it important
That I memorize
Our home phone number.

In retrospect
She worried that a stranger
Might sweep me up and secret me away.

How cute.
That one’s deepest fear
Would be kidnapping

And how sweet
That her dearest friend
The one she couldn’t bear to lose
Would be her five-year-old

Good times
A "home phone number" refers to old style land line phones that were not mobile.  Land lines were usually tetheted to a wall or they sat on a desk or table.
He looked at me,
The way the sky looks at the rain,
Waiting for patiently for the relief.
Hands intertwining around my waist like vines,
Every touch felt.
Warm lips pressed against mine that has been worn.
Heal them I say as if they have been broken so many times before.
I love you,
I love you.
Our love is inevitable.
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