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 Jan 2014 Devon Clarke
sinderella
the taste of your lips
is something I miss
I guess you can say
that's one of my
darling sins

I say I don't love you
but in reality, I do
I mean, I need you
otherwise I
wouldn't be
so jealous
over someone
touching you

I don't like games
but the thrill of it
makes me play
© sinderella.

I write interesting, honest **** at 4am.
wrote this when I was tipsy lol.
Home is a funny place,
its somewhere between love,
and a warm bed.

It lives between a building,
and a sole.

It is a place,
an idea,
and a person.

Home is where you can be yourself,
where you don't need to try,
and you are loved.

Home does not need to be where you live,
or where you sleep,
or where you keep your things.

It can be in a hallway,
on your way to class.

On a beach,
in the middle of summer.

In a restaurant,
surrounded by people.

In a studio,
in a hug,
on the street.

Home can be a place,
but it can move.

Though your address may never change,
your home could be always moving.

You may think that you lost your home,
but maybe you just lost yourself.
When you find it again,
you will see,
it has always been waiting.

Home may not always be the easiest place to be,
it needs constant upkeep,
and it is not always simple.

Everything you put into your home,
will come back,
and the more people you invite in,
the larger it gets.

Dare to let them in,
dare to be hurt,
dare to build a home.

My friends,
thank you,
for building a home,
with me.
 Jan 2014 Devon Clarke
Dánï
I'm tired* of who you aim your glares at,
how your beautiful words are just spat.
I'm tired of living life in constant fear,
not hearing affectionate words; my dear.
I'm tired of always going back to you,
you have the power to make skies grey or blue.
I'm tired of how much you've scarred us,
you so recklessly lost my trust.
I'm tired of your pointless accusations,
you can make or break me with just one statement.
I'm tired of how you make yourself seem so caring,
but the next second your voice is blaring.
I'm tired of the way you process your thoughts,
and of all the times you so carelessly fought.
I'm tired of the games you play,
you have so much to speak but nothing to say.
I'm tired of being yours to manipulate,
you haven't made me truly happy as of late.
I'm tired of being shot at; Russian Roulette,
I can't be near you without becoming upset.
I'm exhausted by your broken promises and empty threats.
-d.***
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