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You may have left,
But my heart followed.
Now I'm falling apart,
With memories eating at my heart.
Got me hiding behind a smile in the day,
The sun shines just to cast a shadow.
Shedding tears reminiscing in the night,
At least the dark night will cover up my sorrow.
The cause of this pain is specific,
Thought our love and future were prolific,
Now I'm just a broken frame holding a picture...
I chose to title broken frame because it is so simple yet so deep. A frame holds memories, even though the glasses will shatters when it drops,  the frame can hold onto the picture still.
Be there Wrinkles at; Age by Time bestrew
And either Body will soon Decompose
Be that Prudence fit; Permit what you knew
Behind the Proverb to Reap what you Sow
That such Mind be the Player of this Game
As Father his Scythe's Traitor fell Conserve
To Lust for your Past; Then Future's insane
Once the Prince shows Signs of his own Disperse
That the Desert we plant our Mirages at
Then expect Turtle-Doves to Quench and Fly
Till they Return not by our Feeling's Spat
Then beg for the Truth which is all but a Lie.
Come. Prove me Wrong. Once your Stars polish Youth
Revive your Preppie's Face though such Un-Couth.


‪#‎tomdaley1994‬ ‪#‎tomdaleytv
I find myself searching for something.  
I am racing around looking,
not even sure what I am in search of.
  
The summer days are so long.
Yet they slip right through my hands.
What is it I can't find?  
  
Finally, it comes to me.
A tune so familiar.
I am searching for my youth!
  
When did I become this old lady?
Who is that I see in my own reflection?  
It can't be me, I know it can't.
  
I am holding on to only memories.
Still I am in the making of new ones.
Its all so fast, life that is.  
  
When can I find my real self.
Where did I go?  
Where did time go?
Please.
I need you
So stay strong
I love you
So don't cry
Just let yourself
Be forever mine.
red lipstick
Oil dripping off a dipstick
Lick quick
The chocolate off my blood stream
Colored dream
Of all nightmares
Floating away.
These things gather
Or scatter, rather,
Across the expanse of my memory.
Please remedy:
A needle, a pill, a potion, a lotion
Not to see
Whatever has become of me.
so I might be ashamed to admit that
I've been reading up on you,
and I know how sad you are
because you talk about it a lot.
and I know how you try to play it off,
but really you just feel bad about things
that may or may not be your fault.

I wish I could be the person to tell you the things
that you believed in when she said them to you.
but I would actually mean it.
I get that you want to be hurt because
it's the only thing that you know,
but I could never be that for you.
at least not on purpose.

and maybe with every interaction to come
good or bad,
you would figure out some things about me
that probably wouldn't interest you enough
to look into what kind of person I am.
that's why I can't be any of the things that you want.
I'm not someone else that you know.
you don't even know me at all.

I guess someday I might have the courage
to say things to your face,
even if you were going to judge me.
but you seem pretty open minded.
I wonder if I could fit inside your thoughts
like the cigarette between your lips,
and I could be your nicotine for a little while.

but maybe I'm just saying these things because
I want you to want me,
even though you don't know me.
and I know you don't like heavy words
said without real meaning,
but I mean it when I say that
I may not be what you want
but I will try to be whatever you need,
even though you don't even know
my name.

a.d.
In love, nothing exists between heart and heart.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
the one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?
You made a mistake,
One you swore you'd never make.
Transformed into lies,
Covered up by pride.
You let her down, fool.
Told her you'd keep your cool.
Come out, come out, they chanted,
It was an uphill battle, and you panted.
You couldn't help it, suffocation set in
Trapped in a box, one you conformed in.
You're a liar, you monster.
Now you went, and you lost her.
Forever? Maybe. Don't think about it.
Your hands shake at the thought of it.
Get off your knees, brush em off, kid.
"You got this!" they said, but they don't have a bid.
This is the hardest time of your life,
Losing one that's meant to be your wife.
Meant to hold you hand.
Meant to stand.
Meant to kiss you.
Meant to hold you.
You shattered her heart, you monster.
Now you lost her.
You keep tellin' yourself you'll turn it around,
but you, yourself, can't even be found.
Mistakes, you made em, kid.
She walks in beauty, like the night
     Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
     Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
     Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
     Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
     Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
     How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
     So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
     But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
     A heart whose love is innocent!
 Jul 2013 Esmé van Aerden
st64
The other day, a house nearly fell on my elbow
Berating the sky for being so impolite
It gifted me this chevalier ...

Wh-what a rad surprise!



S T, 11 july

, , , ,
, , , , ,
, , , , , ,
gift = gifting = giving ....as they say, never look a .......

:)


sub-entry: 'Ballad Of The Soldier’s Wife' - Caroline Henderson

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From the ancient city of prague
From prague came a pair of high heels shoes
With a kiss or 2, came the high heels shoes
From the ancient city of prague

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From Oslo over the south
From Oslo came a collar of fur
How pleased her, the little collar of fur
From Oslo over the south

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From the wealth of Amsterdam
From Asterdam he got a hat
She look sweet and that and knew that hat
From the wealth of Amsterdam

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From Bruxelles and Belgium land
From Bruxelles he sent her laces so rare
So have and to wear,
Oh those laces so rare
From Bruxelles and Belgium land

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From Paris, the city of lights
In Paris he got her a silken gown
It ended in town, that silken gown
From Paris, the city of lights

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From the south, from Bucharest
From Bucharest, he sent her a shirt
Embroided in purf, that remain in shirt
From the south of Bucharest

What was sent to the soldier’s wife
From far of Russian land,
From Russia, there came just a widow’s band
From death to be wed and her widow’s bells
From far of Russian land
From far of Russian land.



• www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECzqOoQKO64
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