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I’ve loved you in ways that I have never been loved
I loved you for reasons that you will never know
I’ve loved you for longer than you’ve known and for far longer than you’ve deserved
It’s my fault for loving you too much
I knew you weren’t capable of accepting what I had to give
But you didn’t have to make me feel stupid
I can’t count the times you’ve brought tears to my eyes or have made me cry
You’ve hurt my feelings so many times and I just want to know why
If I could go back in time I’d try to be perfect for you just so you didn't make me feel so stupid
I gave you so many chances to change and you just made me look stupid
And now I have tears in my eyes and you’ve made me cry
I don't know why you had to make me look so stupid
Marvelous looks the way
same route though everyday
amid leaves' rustles
and street hustles
walking jogging running
merrily with the nimble steps
skimming on winds
in an imaginary land
soft little fingers
slipping in and out
of the age worn hand.

Ten minutes to ten minutes fro
changes the landscape though
stiff barren dull sad heavy.

The trudge back
along the insipid land
with no hands to hold.

The landscape holds nothing..
it's all in the mind.
Reducing a book
down to one chapter

Reducing that chapter
to a paragraph honed

Reducing that paragraph
to one lasting sentence

Reducing that sentence
to a word
— truth atoned

(Dreamsleep: July, 2024)
Angels
rejoice
more
for one healed
sinner
than for
a hundred
who
haven’t
— sinned

(1st Book Of Prayers: July, 2024)
I bow to no man, god, nor country,
But for you I would take a knee.
Walk upon a shore of glass
Proclaim vows unto the sea.
A voice once lost in tides,
The winds and ocean swell.
Found again once more upon
Echoed whispers of a shell.
There's a want to be wrong
Wanted for so long
So long it seems like a folk song
Rather than a foregone conclusion
Just another drawn in lexicon
A childish tantrum replayed like a sing-a-long
'Till the real "want" is gone
And I have to admit I have no idea what's goin' on

©2024
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Oooookay,
I pretty much know what's in-store
I've been here before
Some days I feel I've never left
One day it'll be where I take my last breath

©2024
tyranny follows
like termites in ship boards
infecting new hope
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