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I prayed the angels would speak to me,
Even just a whisper in a dream,
To enlighten me with wisdom; truth,
As things are rarely as they seem.
And oh how amazing after one single prayer
I would receive just what I pled,
But oh how painful it was to hear,
The words the angels said.
I remember a
hundred nights
in your apple room
beneath ramen kisses
(c) Brooke Otto
Eyes so tragic,
Blood so thin,
Laced with too many sins.
She broke your heart,
What should you do?
I'll never escape that.
A thousand paper cuts
Bleed so deep
Soaked the paper through.
Your heart is on the left...
You missed this time,
But what am I to do?
There's been a lapse in order
Shields as weapons
The king is dead,
What are we to do?
Lay down our arms
Or make love with our ego.
There's been a lapse in time,
A change in order
And a collapse of all we knew.
What should we do?
I dunno. help with the title? thoughts? let me know
In the blink of an eye my whole existence has transformed.
With a simple hello my former reality disappeared.
Enveloped in your embrace my guard was demolished.

The melody of your heart serenades my soul.
The reflection of light in your eyes leaves me breathless.
The depth and sincerity of your character has captivated my spirit.

Every soft sweet kiss leaves me starving for more.
Every caress of my cheek makes me weak.
Every word that forms on your lips becomes my life giving air.
The anthem of my heart plays only for you.

All thoughts, all day dreams gravitate toward you.
The heat resonating from your body wraps me in flames of ecstasy and lust.
A chemistry like this I have never known.
I long to be in your presence
To feel your skin pressed against mine
The sensation of a thousand butterfly wings covering every inch of my body.

So blessed that your path crossed mine
Ready to experience new firsts that become lasts til the end of time.
Reality is;
The real that ruins our hopes and dreams.
The reason we cannot live our most deep and creative thoughts.
Life in its dullest form.

Something for us to snap back to,
when dreams become too much.

Messing with the pleasing inspiration retained from existence.
Making the vivid thoughts we want to make true,
become buried with us.

Lying there in a mind once unrealistic; free.
Bombarded by the captivation of reality in its finest.

Boxed up and unknown.
These dreams, feelings, and pure creativity,
never heard or witnessed by another living being,
and never will be.

All because a little phrase known as reality,
corrupted the mind,
and interrupted its better half; unrealistically.
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