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Apples can come in all shapes and sizes,
Two apples they are not the same,
See one and it's in your hand before it realizes,
Choosing the right one is part of the game,

They can look so sweet from where you sit,
But once you bite into that rotten part,
It changes your whole perception of it,
And can send and arrow through your heart,

To me I'm an apple not wholly bad,
To you the shiniest and most delectable you'd seen,
Sadly more bitter than you what thought you had,
But with time to ripen fit for my queen.

For apples to be we are both bruised,
We have been hurt and reduced,
Some visible, and some I denied the clues,
Yet together us perfectly flawed apples have fused,

Like a pair that only comes in a dual pack,
Still we cannot unfeel what we have felt,
Nor take back the damage i have dealt.
I vow to bring us back on track.

Let me be your sun,
Your source of growth,
Your only one,
So hear my oath.

I will be your love, your inspiration,
Like the apple of your first impression,
We will roll down hills and across nations,
For this is the long run and not a single session.

I see now that we could endure any weather
From stormy oceans to scorching heat
And one day i hope our seeds grow a tree together
That no other apple could possibly beat.
A something something that flowed through me one late night
 Jul 2014 The Quiet Poet
m
i don't drink like anybody else
i don't drink to forget the pain
i drink to forget things about myself,

like how it must've been my fault
that you were never your whole
until you've lost control.

now i'm standing under the moon
my thoughts seemed faded and worn;
can i see you soon?

if not;
if you say you already have plans
for today,
then

i'm ready to drink
i'm waiting to drown,
and in a blink
i'll see you in my dreams.
Beside a dusty fan droops languid veins
whose movement barely churns up tarnished grime,
as lazy sun exudes through poisoned panes
injected with the film of listless time.

A gentle sigh is exhaled without will
for emptiness of long forgotten mind.
Eyes shudder closed to desolation's shrill
of conscious much too free and so, confined.

Revolting spittle dribbles down a chin
with absolutely nothing left to do.
To entertain and keep from going thin
you spy on friends who in turn spy on you.

Alas! For boredom is the finite trait
of great mankind's insufferable fate.
So, my second attempt at a sonnet. This one seems oddly appropriate considering I am impossibly not entertained and this is direly irksome.
.
There's a time in your life
when you question your sanity,
but it's already gone
when you end your sentence
with a period
and not a question mark.
There was once a time where
I felt so strongly
Within me was an eagerness
cradled by a fire that only
inexperience could kindle

I plunged blindly into
the depths of feeling
unaware that death lied ahead

but o the death did come
with it's menacing smoky
pain. Paralyzed me like a shock,
electricity unexpected and cold

Left me dumped in the stagnant
waters of struck-down lovers
who hadn't quite learned yet

Here I float
face down and
all the wiser
Don't feel down, your friends will lift you back up
You fell in love with me.

I just hope you jumped.
Not slipped.
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