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Apr 2018 · 316
A Mind
Lauren Grace Apr 2018
A whole day adventure
And we didn't even have to leave home.
Your mind is a castle full of gypsies and forgiveness and understanding and gratefulness and extraordinary orange skies and classical music that even heavy metal lovers find themselves falling in love with.
You spread love to everyone and anyone.
You say I always remember it better than it was.
It is innocence that drips from your lips when you say
"Good bye"
I beg you to shut your mouth.
But mansions with longer tables and clearer skies call your name.
Please. Continue to send books.
I turn these days and starry nights into imaginative literature so they never die.
I will never forget you, Princess.
Feb 2018 · 419
The Writer
Lauren Grace Feb 2018
How magnificent it must be to be written about.
Your name replaced by descriptions of the way your pink sumptuous smile looked in the shoddy light of your living room last night.
The people read his paper for entertainment.
So could you call it progress?
Possibly character development.
To read about yourself flourishing into the miscreant you were always destined to be.
How engrossing it must be to gradually watch that pink sumptuous smile turn into nothing but a starless hole.
The critics are bored and dehydrated. On their hands and knees, they beg him to compose more.
That's why he stays in the living room and stares at me.
He waits for me to make one wrong move.
But there is no more life in this room.
Only a pen and a subject.
I don't need you to write anymore.
Feb 2018 · 389
Planet
Lauren Grace Feb 2018
We sit across the room from each other in hideous furniture.
But still, you scream,
"What is it all about? Why are we here?"
I respond, warm affection dripping in every word,
"Human connection."
"There must be more than that," you insist.
Your words leave me with nothing except an unworthy reparation on my lips.
I glance around the freezing house and realize I have obviously failed to provide enough for the both of us.
Feb 2018 · 306
You
Lauren Grace Feb 2018
You
Warm affection runs through every syllable when you utter,
"I delight in the way you write."
At these words
I am left to wonder if my life has reached its peak.

You remind me that the magic of growing is not all but gone.
With you,
There is always enough sound
And never too much racket.

I write to you, for you, and with you.
You obtain the unfortunately rare talent of valuing human life
And appreciating its art forms.

Your mind is a small business.
Not ran by a King,
But by a little Prince.
A perfect mixture of complexity and simplicity and understanding.

Today I compose a melody of thank yous.
To both you and the universe for giving you the brain you have.

Thank you for inspiring me, making me think, and bringing astounding music into my life.
I have been wanting to write more uplifting stuff for a while. Have a great day.
Feb 2018 · 399
To Be Kind
Lauren Grace Feb 2018
I wonder how you sit on piles of beatific feelings
While the poor are starved for hope.
They are ready to consume anything uplifting.
Many folks are competent enough to give their time and money.
But I find a bad taste in my mouth
When those presented with the gift of gaiety
Choose only to share it with a select few.
Jan 2018 · 324
Listen
Lauren Grace Jan 2018
I am left to wonder if you really do appreciate music like you say.
Because after you stopped looking me straight in the eyes,
I became blind to the passion and melody that you claimed pulsed in those veins.
You articulate when you lie
Jan 2018 · 517
Words
Lauren Grace Jan 2018
You attempt to make clear that your genius is blatantly obvious yet hard to explain.
I stroll towards the champagne.
"Whats wrong? Am I being too plain?”
Your words hit like a train, causing intolerable pain.
The letters you manage to tie together tend to intoxicate my brain.
But I have promised myself that I would be nothing but honest, even in vain.
So I whisper affectionately to you in order to explain,
"Your words often remind me of acid rain."  
The reasons for your sentences are rarely found down the drain.
Except maybe to precipitate folks a great deal of pain.
Your voice sounds nothing like music
Jan 2018 · 996
Motorized
Lauren Grace Jan 2018
I struggle with the seatbelt in your car.
You express passionately,
"You'll have to stay with me forever."
You don't understand how much it frustrates me that I love you.
Because I know the whole unadventured world lays ill at ease outside your smeary windows.
But the safe sentiment of your vehicle leaves me wrestling with myself.
To be free or to be unassailable.

— The End —