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JG Fletcher Dec 2015
So much for being friends.
I really thought our history
Could make us see
Through our differences.
But in the end
Discourse was too severe
Written in the strife ridden time that comes with trying to fixed strained friendships.
JG Fletcher Nov 2015
I really don't understand
Why people think they
Have me figured out
Sure, I'm well mannered
Respectful and giving
My natural introversion
Proceeds me at times
But believe when I say
There's more to me
Then what you see
At face value
I'm layered
And I only open up
To a select few
The worst part is
I haven't opened up to you
I uphold my shy demeanor
But in due time
I won't hold back
And my actions
Will turn admirable
Written on a night when the moon glows yellow in the riptide
JG Fletcher Nov 2015
I thought I knew you
I thought I knew us
Our dynamics
Our interplay
The trust we bulit
A rapport we shared
That unspoken understanding

Our guards were up
We feared letting each other in
Our sullen hearts and tired eyes
Could not fathom affection
I may not be ready
And, suffice to say, it's mutual
But this is me letting go
Of my untimely inhibitions
Written out of respect, and the mutual understanding of weariness
JG Fletcher Sep 2015
Changed
I've changed for the better
That chapter I penned
The year previous
Reached it's conclusion
Suffice to say

That book
A novel, rather
Called Life
I haven't finished it

There are stories yet to be told
For now, this will do
Written in mere increments, while watching some Netflix
JG Fletcher Sep 2015
Sometimes I feel lost
Like I'm aiming the dark
And I seldom succeed
In my progression.
But these woes I face
Are just another part
of everyday life
Maybe the only way forward
Is from within
Written several days previous
JG Fletcher Sep 2015
Pure bliss is a bottle
of the finest drink,

The beach
on cool September night

Soothing Brasilian jazz
and you, of course
Written on a September evening, after a long hiatus
JG Fletcher Aug 2015
You've put me to the test
I've aced every single one
I proved my worth
So let's not lollygag
Enough of the charades
Written on a August morning. Sometimes the Chase is fun. Sometimes it isn't
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