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You could lie and say
that youre not worth it
Break your soul
And all your hopes

You could deny and say
That you're not pretty
Break your soul
And all your smiles

You could delude yourself and say
That youre nothing special
Betray yourself
And all the world

You could lie and say
That youre just fine
And waste away
as they all believe

You could lie and smile
Then giggle and laugh
But they wont notice
That inside... youre dead
 May 2013 explorereality
J Drake
I am not my glory;
I am not my false reality.
I am not my story;
I am not my personality.
I am not my past;
I am not my hurt;
I am not the last;
And I am not the first.

I AM, and that is enough.

I accept what is.
I understand this moment.
I love this moment.
And for this I am ever grateful.

My life is incredible.
The journey, so sweet;
My adventure, inevitable,
The path, unique.

The time is right now.
I can find my success.
I still don't know how;
But that's part of the test...

To believe in beauty,
Even when I fail to see it;
For in this act,
I become the Love I needed.
You're a beautiful mystery clad in gorgeous enigma.
You're poetry that looks good in a skirt.

There's an orchestra on your tongue, playing the sound of your voice like a melody I can't forget,
matching the tempo of the drums in my heart
and the broken strings of my violin compliments.

You are a notebook, a yearbook, a sketchbook, a burn book,
every facet of you written in swirling cursive,
rhymes and famous signatures snaking between cinnamon hair and cleverness.

You are a pen running out of ink,
bleeding dry in Barnes and  Noble Moleskin journals,
but that's okay because I have more ink,
and you can borrow whatever you want from me--
store it in the heart you stole if you're bored enough to hunt my words for the pieces.
You have the key already.

You're the first dream of the boy too scared of nightmares to sleep again.

You are the taste of honey and cigarettes on the lips of the first girl that boy ever kissed,
because she was a rebel and he needed a hero
who wore boots instead of Mary-Janes
and band t-shirts instead of blouses.

You are the rose he drew when he was bored,
an outline with potential,
mysterious, entrancing, incomplete,
not yet ablaze with the red of desire
because he was never good at finishing things.
You are a dictionary. Your picture isn't just under "beautiful."
It's under "dangerous" and "witty" and "myth"
because Medusa bowed at your feet next to James Bond and Edgar Allan Poe,
and you're too good to be true anyways.

You are a poem, a telltale heart beating inside a lesson in vengeance,
temporary only because nothing gold can stay.
You've walked past where the sidewalk ends (certainly the road less traveled by)
and come back far more darling than any buds of May.

(You are the paperback novel he read under the covers,
the flashlight only bright enough to show paragraphs,
and every new page unique in shape and form
while the text remains the same.

You are the raw words read aloud by the daring poet,
standing beneath midnight moon,
the power of the throne,
the breath of a whispered promise falling upon the ear,
the warmth of kisses on the cheek,
the passion of all hope there ever was in trust and truth.

You are the fire in lightning,
the sparkle in the snow and the glitter in the rain,
the fierceness of the wind and the gentle, soothing peace,
the blazing chill of winter and the roar of summer's heat.)

But you're still a mystery.
A beautiful,
beautiful
mystery.
Heart on my sleeve.
I don't care.
With immortal love.
I would go anywhere.
Be any-body.
Do-anything.
But most important.
Be myself.
No ulterior motives.
Only honest intentions.
My ultimate choice?
Your happiness-connections.
Simple and true.
Longing, longing, another longing,
Merely to experience,
Love.
Love.
Love, just like you.
Just like you!
Unaware of your effect,
I welcomed it.
The kiss that seemed to solve
Anything.
Now that I know,
I'm addicted.
Your taste,
Your touch,
Your voice,
Everything.
And more of these
Are yet to be discovered.
Just a finger.
One finger.
Slipping underneath the lace.
Lightly caressing the softest skin.
And I tense.
Everything tightens.
Firms.
Swells.
Inhaling your exhales.
Take my breath.
My body is yours.
Explore it.
Find my treasures.
They’ve been hidden for too long.
Beautiful bits.
Waiting to be discovered.
Uncovered.
Exposed.
Taken.
Don’t ask.
Permission was granted long ago.
I’ve been waiting for this.
 May 2013 explorereality
marina
i haven't believed
in anything
like i believe
in you
i have spent all day avoiding studying for my algebra and re-falling in love with arthur darvill.
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