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Concept: I have stopped writing so much about the sadness seeping in my bones, somewhere along the way it has returned to stardust, somewhere along the way I began to smile.
When I sit here in the dark
I am troubled with thoughts
Of storms brewing inside me
I am haunted by the ghosts
Of faces I have never seen
Not in this life
I cannot tell if I am filled
With a green and lush life
Or if all I am, all I have ever been
Is a lost soul echoing through eternity
Screaming for recognition
And finding only starless blackness
In the eyes of myself
Did the sun forget to shine,
Down on this barren earth?
For I see none of that greener grass anywhere,
See no place with worth.

Did the rain forget to fall,
Down to pass through our drying lips?
For now our words come out like sandpaper,
Cutting each other to slits.

Did the stars forget to glow,
And fill the darkness with their light?
For we all walk around with empty dreams,
And there's no wishing happening at night.

Did the wind forget to whisper,
It's softly spoken melody?
For our hearts seem to have forgotten,
The feeling of it's silent beauty.

Oh, what happened to that life,
That danced inside our skin,
That made us want to laugh,
That made us want to live?
Shaken, to the core
the first moment I saw you,
infatuated November 15
and every day since,
weeks waiting with nervous hand
wanting desperately to hear your voice
fearful my own would tremble
and seeing you, bathed in a light
you had walked right out of my dreams
everything that was not you faded away
I was entranced with your brown eyes
and your voice, a melody, the only one
I wanted to hear
hands small and soft, fitting
like puzzles, inside mine,
you are my dawn and dusk
you can turn grey skies into sunlight,
weave gold into the darkness
you were,
are,
my home.
I should have known how
You would hurt me
For you are sculpted
Like a knife
Concept: i am sat under the moon and stars and they are so bright it is blinding, but when i cannot see for their brightness, i hear music, in the music, voices.
The stars are calling me home.
Concept: From a tiny pinprick on my finger blossoms a rich, red rose. She grows beautiful and when her petals fall, I marvel at her short, bright life. She knew nothing but love.
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