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  Dec 2018 Edgar
Johnny walker
Every time I close my eyes  I feel I'm In Heaven for every time I close my eyes I see you standing
there
before me, just as pretty
as you ever were before
you passed away
I know my heart tells me you'll
always
be forever with me for I can never ever let you go, no matter where you maybe now
for
I'll forever love you my darling and will be this way and till I
die
I shall forever love you my darling  Helen I'll never let you go It will be that way until the day I die
  Jul 2017 Edgar
Chris Thomas
Stop me if you have heard this one before.
"Boy meets girl."

Stop. Erase.

"Boy meets girl in a trivial pursuit."

Stop. Erase.

No, there is no meeting at all.
Boy never meets girl, as meeting implies brevity.
A meeting is held in a conference room.
A meeting is not felt to the very core.
A meeting is no flower on the brink of bloom.

The reality is, the world ceases to spin on its axis.
The sun flares at the sight of her.
The moon implodes at the sound of her.
Mars and Venus collide at the touch of her.
All while constellations dance like moths,
Hovering far too close to a flame.

There is no pulse, only rhythm.
There is no break, only bend.
There is no rescue, only flailing.
There is no beginning, only end.

Now boy is standing at the center of a great divide.
And girl disappears, abruptly as the tide.

Stop me if you have...

Stop.  Erase.
  Jun 2017 Edgar
Laine Viv
If I were to write about you,

I wouldn’t say how much I like your jokes,
I would rather say how your face lights up a little when you see me laugh.

I wouldn’t say how quiet you are when the sun rises because you’re aware of my presence,
I’d rather say how you respect my need and appreciation for peaceful mornings.

I wouldn’t say how warm your hand feels when you touch mine,
I’d rather say how I see you try to hold back a goofy smile when you gently reach for my hand.

I wouldn’t say how much I treasure all the songs we dance to,
I’d rather say how you always dance with me when I need it and it doesn’t matter that you think you always mess up a few steps because we’d laugh about it and I’d feel a little better.

I wouldn’t say how I like it when you listen to all my stories and say all the right things at the right times,
I’d rather say how much you remember all of them and how much you know that there will always be more.

I wouldn’t say how much I appreciate your genuinely kind words or your straightforward opinions when you tell me what I need to hear,
I’d rather say how much you accept and take note of my words as well.

If I were to write about you,
I wouldn’t write about how you make me feel,
I’d simply write about the way you just are.

If I were to write about you,
I wouldn’t write about the things I like about you
for if I were to write about you,
I would write about...you.
A poem I've written months ago. My inspiration for this is a love so simple, so ideal, so genuine, yet is so rare
  Jun 2017 Edgar
chris
but even if i fall in love again // with someone new // it could never be the way // i loved you
  Jun 2017 Edgar
Emmanuel Coker
There's something about her dreamy eyes
That makes you want to be a dreamer
There's something about her soothing tongue
That makes you want to be a preacher
There's something about her lovely smile
That makes you want to be a painter
There's something about her great physique
That makes you want to be a sculptor
There's something about her intellect
That makes you want to be a professor
There's something about her being
That makes you want to be
There's something about her
That makes you want to be her lover
Edgar Jun 2017
her heart was heavy
she walked boldly though stumbled to the stationery shop
opened her purse and picked some old coins
"a writing pad and an envelope", she ordered
"can i have the writing pad with a broken heart", she requested
For her heart was truly broken
she chose red ink to scribble words from her bleeding heart
with her paper wet with tears
her world now a mess, joy is now her past
now she is frail and bitter
so she struggled to conclude her letter with a "Thank You"
and her letter was nothing but the memories of a betrayal
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