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Alice Lovey Jul 2018
Infectious laugh,
Untamable anger,
Excitable stories,
Well-hidden anxiety.

Misdirected blame,
Unwarranted shame.

Blue eyes.

Brown hair, red hints; I wish I could have seen it with sun tints.

Smiling...

After work.
In the middle of the night.
In the mornings.
Saturday afternoons.

Rushed calls or
A day’s worth of together.

Nightmares as dreams,
Nights without sleep.
Coffee, drugs, caffeine.
Scars.

Hopelessness.
Grief.

Aspirations.
Full of life.

Childlike heart. Easily torn, but never taken apart.
An eye for nature’s beauty.
An eye for art.
One for me, occasionally.

Insecurity. Arrogance.
Compassion. Detachment.
Weak yet enduring.
Unmoving yet learning.

Intoxicating.
Aggravating.
A liar struggling to lie.
A suicide debating to die.

Lustful gaze.
Manipulative ways.

Who were you
And why couldn’t you stay?
Vague, memories.
Alice Lovey Jul 2018
Stricken with, like fate.
Idolizing. Idealizing.
What makes it so?
Curiosity to obsession.

Obsession to love?

What is love?

Sought after, like gold.
Idolizing me.
Yet none to succeed but for a fleeting moment.
I envy those with their beloveds.

Even those whom have suffered loss, but still love.

Emptiness.
Craving the “good” feelings.
Like fantasies. Wanting someone who isn’t real.
Never to give wounds time to heal.

To invalidate, or embrace?
If I don’t know what is real
And if I don’t know who I am,
Do I follow my heart?
Or is naivety my wander?

What I seek is never mine to keep.
All stories are read, not written.
Not written by me.
Spur of the moment feelings of brokenness.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
I crave for things unknown;
Tell me your story, I see your soul.
Once upon your tragedy or possibly your dreams,
Find me gazing intently at your given everything.
The intimacy of conversation;
Exchange these words with me.
Sit beside my person as we explore the galaxy.
Perhaps then I could learn from you,
Perhaps then teach you being new.
Would you mind getting lost with me
Where our hearts connected too?

I've lived forever in eternity,
I wish to know all to be known,
Time begets sincerity,
Sate my curiosity so.
Emotional connectedness and bonding over sharing souls with another human, though perhaps also a bit of loneliness.
Alice Lovey Jun 2018
Write a poem for me.
I do not want your gifts.
I only want extension of
Your scheming willful wit.
So,
Write a poem for me.
Be it sweet or ****.
I'd like to hear expression of
Your beating, fumbling heart.
What could be inside you?
Would you let me see?
Sanguine sanctuary,
Maybe ****** mystery?
How then pure love,
Familiar as red roses?
Else I could suppose is
The bleakness of despair?

Well,
Write a poem for me.
Please, save your banality;
I'm charmed by whimsicality,
And sorely unimpressed with
Predictable normality.
I've never been interested in commonality, especially when it comes to things like romance. I feel pouring yourself into something you've created reveals more than what you could share in small talk.
Alice Lovey Apr 2018
Oh, gentle spring rain...
Softens what bitter winter pain.
Then summer again...
Tears tittered as anxiety falls 'way
But strikes freely as you recall the day
These cries weren’t like a gentle rain—but when you used to play
Alone
That lonely autumn roam on the playground with no home
In which to return.
On yourself you were so stern...
"Never let them in,"
Ascertained, “Love never will begin.”
But here it has begun, and your heart’s song once unsung,
So unsung,
Plays on the brittle harp among this young
Love to whom you’ve now arrived...
They’ve intruded through what fortress fortifies the lies
‘Round the eyes like skies
Once full of birds but now emptier than the glass you leave in the quiet nights.
Safe no more are you in the barbed wire wrapped right wrong over your ribs.
Place down that nimble nib so eloquent with the fib
Of that which you feed yourself in this wintry crib...
The gentle spring rain is the shedding of your skin.
You let love in,
Afraid your bones will break at the first touch,
Wondering which is the last such...

You let love in and your weeps weaken to whimpers
Because you are so tired...your soul is so tired.
And finally you let love in...and you surrender.
To the touch that is so, so tender.
And everything
Is okay.
Listen to Bach’s “Air on the G String” performed by The Voices of Music. It was the perfect feel I needed to write this. Hopefully my point got across but I realize I can be a bit cryptic.

This was very enjoyable to write. I borrowed the "Gentle spring rain" from another, immediately inspired to compare it to the shedding of tears when you are so relieved, yet afraid, as you fall in love.

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