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Idiosyncrasy Feb 2018
There might be
Places and mazes
And parks and landmarks
Every step a riddle
Every turn a puzzle
But I won't mind
I might be running in circles
But I come back to you
Every time.
A response to the previously posted poem "Walking".
Idiosyncrasy Feb 2018
-
you make leaving
so hard
and I think
that's beautiful.
Idiosyncrasy Jan 2018
You said
I have a way with words
You do too
But I don't think
writing about what I never felt
Is the same with
saying what you never meant.
Yes, pun. We use words in different ways after all.
Idiosyncrasy Jan 2018
I tried to make this poem different
But then I realized
If there's one thing I'm good at
It would be writing about you
About your smallest movements
No one seems to notice
Like the way you flick your hair when you get nervous
About the surprises in you
Like your soft cry to belong, to matter
When all people see is a hard rock
They never knew it was a build up of tears
And about the things I will never have the chance to tell you again
Like when you're nervous or afraid, I'll be there
But I won't tell you not to fear
Because there are some things we have to be afraid of
Or hey, you were my rock
The one thing I held on to
And I will cradle you
Your softest whispers
And the salty water you come with
Because
You belong with me
You will always matter.
I was thinking of continuing this poem and perform it as spoken word but lately I haven't been sure if I still want to say these.

And please leave suggestions if you have some. I'd appreciate it so much. Thanks :).
  Jan 2018 Idiosyncrasy
imperfectwords
"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.
When you call a suicide prevention hotline, they will often ask you to describe to them 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste to help ease anxiety. I hope this poem helps someone struggling to look forward, because believe me, it does get better.
Idiosyncrasy Jan 2018
Listen when I tell you
Because it isn't at all easy for me to say
That I still love you
When you no longer feel the same.
Not another time.
Not once more.
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