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Don't listen to me; my heart's been broken.
I don't see anything objectively.

I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
When I speak passionately,
That's when I'm least to be trusted.

It's very sad, really: all my life I've been praised
For my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight-
In the end they're wasted-

I never see myself.
Standing on the front steps. Holding my sisters hand.
That's why I can't account
For the bruises on her arm where the sleeve ends ...

In my own mind, I'm invisible: that's why I'm dangerous.
People like me, who seem selfless.
We're the cripples, the liars:
We're the ones who should be factored out
In the interest of truth.

When I'm quiet, that's when the truth emerges.
A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers.
Underneath, a little gray house. The azaleas
Red and bright pink.

If you want the truth, you have to close yourself
To the older sister, block her out:
When I living thing is hurt like that
In its deepest workings,
All function is altered.

That's why I'm not to be trusted.
Because a wound to the heart
Is also a wound to the mind.
Rain, pour over me.
Fill me with coldness
That digs from within.
Wash away my fears.
Wash away my pains.
Wash away my tears.
'Coz all I want to feel,
Is happiness after you came.
All I want to see,
Is rainbow after you're drained.
 Aug 2014 Lima Solas
Тадеус
The winds pick up
blowing through the evergreens,
reminding me of low notes of Cello.
Owls seek shelter as dawn breaks
and tints the feather-like clouds
with all manner of colour.
A breezy morning...
A new day.


*Тадеус
© Тадеус 8-28-2014 9:55pm
Все права защищены.
I've decided to write to you.
It's a little too late after all that we've been through.
But I saw you the other day.
I left immediately. Didn't think I had anything left to say.
I ran in to you actually.
I know how you like everything stated factually.
well,
I'm still high from the smoke you breathed on me.
It's not the regular Buzz.
It feels more like I'm going to die.
Because, Because.. I don't know why.
All I know for sure is that lipstick shade of yours,
Looks more like blood has stained your lips.
Like you drank blood for breakfast in small, lady-like sips.
But you looked beautiful, like an actress who through away the scripts.
Oh My Stars, you were Gorgeous.
Even with your scars that always made you resemble a hot mess.
But not that night, In that skimpy, emerald dress.
You were Beautiful in a way that was dangerous.
And It hurts me now, That you couldn't love me less.
honestly, I'm sorry for mistaking you as a Maiden In Distress.
You didn't want a fairy tale.
You're the princess who denies the prince
and falls in love with the dragon who's meant to be slayed.
In the end , I guess I was the prince who just got played.
And you wound up with Dragon's breath.
which I guess, explains how inside of me, you started a flame.
But I was stupid and left, Now you have your dragon
and we'll never be the same.
I'm sorry this makes no sense, It's all over the place.
I have to write it before I'm sober.
I mean, since when are you a smoker?
With this high, every time I close my eyes I still see your glowing face.
I don't want this to be over.
I want to taste your ****** lips.
Maybe I'm not a prince
love me.
Baby, I'm an ogre

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Once again from a male's perspective.
Not my best piece, sorry
 Aug 2014 Lima Solas
r
Blue shoelace
 Aug 2014 Lima Solas
r
This was a fishing village
when people were speaking
the king's English, dead
like the fishing industry
Now the tourists have accents

Truth be told
this was a fishing village
long before that
But we don't speak about
what those folks spoke
Something Algonquian
or another dead language

When the tide is out
I walk the shore and look for remnants
Pottery and stone tools, and such
I find a lot of plastic
and bottles, plenty of those
We've been a drinking people
for a long **** time

Once, I found a child's shoe,
sodden and filled with sand
It had a blue lace,
still tied, and a smiley face
as the tide was going out
Kind of sad, really.

r  ~ 8/28/14
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