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 Aug 2020 Daylight 4U2C
Jordan
This may be the last
it may be the best
if not
then the worst
but
at least
they’d say
he did his best
‘til the end.
 Aug 2020 Daylight 4U2C
Dipper
Sometimes I forget who I am
And then I cry
Because I never remember
 Oct 2019 Daylight 4U2C
putiira
You write poetry
with heartbeats,
And the entire world
stops to listen.
Cinema love is something
In the interlude of suffering.

Cinema love
A cascade of open passion which inspired this beautiful
Obsession
Cinema love in a 50s black and white spool
Where thunder splits lovers apart
And God blesses tears in the dark.
Love is a dangerous word- Love is
A nuclear war-
A computer message that is sabotaged by a jealous killer
A perfumed envelope containing a suicide letter
Soaked in tears of desolation which long to kiss
The sea-
Seems like a good film to me.

Her love twirled and danced then opened her eyes to a future
In front of a camera called betrayal
Still she is available.

Cinema love '11' A Dinosaur On Parole From Neptune
It is of no relevance which classic blinds the screen
There is a love story in row 22 like there has always been
Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.
This is one of the sample stories in my new book, "BitterSweet," which has become a #1 New Release on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/BitterSweet-Lior-Gavra/dp/0999497103/
 Apr 2016 Daylight 4U2C
Ronney
Not up to the standard

That normal demanded

I was a random

An outsider abandoned

But as we grew older

Choices Became more bolder

normal became variety

Building up our society
~ the common perception people have come to believe  is that normal Is being the same as everyone else, that not right that would be conformity.

~Normal has always been people's individuality

So here's a lesson

~ own it, your individuality I mean because that makes you normal you'd be the normal you and that's what we want from you :)
 Apr 2016 Daylight 4U2C
mikecccc
Crazed chuckles
almost drown out
the whole
absurd situation
but not quite
soon the grin
will fade
and tears shall fall
but not today
probably.
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