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I wonder if you think of me
The way I'm thinking of you right now
Staring at pictures of you and me
Smiling
At the camera
Or at each other
The way your eyes would lock on mine
And tell me
Without ever saying anything
I love you

I wonder if you look back
On old forgotten messages on your phone
Or if you deleted them
Just right after
You deleted me
From your heart
You would've found the first time
I confessed and said
You're special to me
And you replied with
I love you

I wonder if you still remember
The sound of my voice
Because I still remember yours
And I hear it every night
As clearly as if
You were still right beside me
Holding me tight
On nights when I had trouble sleeping
Whispering in my ear
I love you
And only you

Only you
Meant
Only you were wrong
Because you didn't
Love
Only me

Only now
I wonder if you ever loved
Only me
Who knew,

The girl who had
No voice
Would
One day
Teach the world to
Sing
?

To banish their
Bashful
And beam forth
In beauty,

To learn to
Simply
Just Sing
?

A time ago
Her soft
"Hello" was
Lost
Within
Translation
.

But now?
Oh, now!

With no care
To how,

That caterpillar

Has
Found
Her wings
.
An unintentional commentary on my very first post to HP.
I love how poetry journals chronicle the chapters in our lives.

JustSing Photography is my baby - birthed several years before I had any idea of just how deeply connected we were.

Passions United.
The sun is rising
Heat is arriving
Birds start chirpping
  Good day  As
   A  bit of light appears
From the sky above
     Hevan
       I call to you
i stay drunk all the time
on sweet berry wine
from the fruit of sublime
on the trees and the vine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the haze

i get by all the time
with these ways of mine
all I need is a dime
and sweet berry wine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the maze
White fleshed the wild roots
cold in caves of soil the bulbs, the tubers
burst through aged brown clay, wet through mud slick rains
sun drunk buds of tulip leaves, petals painted pink
bird chirp and groan of ponds, a soft bedded mossy home
of woven fern and forest fronds, home to night's invisible frogs
white moon dogwood blooms, calls heard lovelorn
through an open window.
 Apr 2016 Elizabeth Burns
Pidge
Where is my mind
I can feel it spinning
I'm falling behind
In a race
I'm not
winning
Inside, I'm collapsing
I'm crossing the line
I need to find
My mind
It's circling
I'm wishing to get
Some consolation
A way out of this trip
No open doors
I'm hoping
You'll see that part of me
And you'll love me
Despite
My madness, my fight
My constant flight
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