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 Nov 2015 Justine Muriel
glassea
17
 Nov 2015 Justine Muriel
glassea
17
insomnia is its own kind of madness
for when the world lies dead quiet
and your logic cannot sleep
you start to wonder
what starlight would taste like
if you drank it from the moon
 Nov 2015 Justine Muriel
x a l
it’s like your words send rain
that washes the earth
of all aches
and leaves it clean as a mirror
then the scented light emerges
wilted plants yet manage to grow again
and you’re all sleepy eyes & bashful
maybe because we're both transparent
& the sun’s staring right through us
instead of curling up in fear
you embrace the warmth of the invader
you’ve always been that way
which brings others to heavy merriment
but with a question of
how can one remain innocent by nature
that serves nothing to the art of cynicism
 Nov 2015 Justine Muriel
Y Rada
Your friendship is like a kiss of death
It is better in the beginning
But slowly poisoning me with your affection.

And when I cling to you for strength
And when I need your breath in me
You silently draw away and leave me.

Better put a sting on my tongue
And punch me on the face than
Leaving me in silence and confusion.
I want the unknown
The mysterious adventure
All the unexplained feelings
And the untitled relationship

I want to not know what we'll do
Not know everything about you
But just enough to actually know you

So take me
To a place unknown to me
Make me feel feelings I've never felt
And experience life beyond normal
Short little 3 AM poem :)
i'd ask for more if
you'd hear me say
things of depth and circumstance
in ways i can't convey

within earshot
i would hear the whispers
from a divine warmth
underneath sheets
near-silent songs
of how you
think you could love me

arms length could
have us close enough
to hear hearts beating
between the both of us

rain storms
bringing closer
rhythmic patterns
with the drops
skin serene
& soft

but impartial is the universe
our minds distractible
our feet hardly
ever on the ground

& these words i write
could never capture
the essence i dream you portray

these miserable hands
that lament loss
of a thing yet even obtained

they don't know how
to grasp gently enough
the hands of grace
& divine warmth

when i feel lonely
i'll conjure your caress

it was time hardly spent
but well spent nonetheless
& i never really even met you

— The End —