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  Feb 2015 Luna Elora
epictails
And I'll spend
the rest of my days
gazing upon the stars
that used to bind us together
dreaming of what our love could do
for us
for the future
now nowhere in sight
after you took it along
with my heart
I **** at love poems and this is about my first try hahaha. It's funny how I get the craziest ideas sometimes
  Feb 2015 Luna Elora
bouhaouel zeineb
not mine**
Ten little Indian Boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little Indian Boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Eight little Indian Boys travelling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.

Seven little Indian Boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.

Six little Indian Boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.

Five little Indian Boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were four.

Four little Indian Boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.

Three little Indian Boys walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.

Two little Indian Boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.

One little Indian Boy left all alone;
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none.
not mine but I wanted to share it with u
from the book of Agatha Christie "And then there were none"
  Feb 2015 Luna Elora
No Name Poet
How
Can     Will
You              You
Break                   Fix
Me         ­                     Me
When                 When
You          You
Fixed   Broke
Me              Me
In                        In
The                          The
First                   First
Place         Place
Darling.
Luna Elora Feb 2015
He tore me limb from limb
Only to build me up again.
In a whole new shape.
He built be up again
Just to tear me down.
And left me on the floor.
And walked out the door.
*** skriver sig ind i månen og
folder sig over og ud  i  en oval
form så *** kan passe ind og
tilpasse sig og i smalle sprækker
gemmer *** på hemmeligheder
om glasvaser  og *** har glemt
de andre nu
*** vander sine planter klokken
03:42 og så fletter *** sit hår, der
dufter af jord og ligner mosaikken
under hendes negle
det er svært at blinke i en regelmæssig
rytme, og det er svært at vogte over
de tunge øjenlåg, der hvisker gul poesi
om begravelser *** aldrig var med til
- digte om et papmachesind
  Jan 2015 Luna Elora
Jessica
I am constantly finding myself to be this easily agitated, but overly loving person, and that is because of you.

*******.

I've been attempting to search for the girl I once was and can't find what I'm looking for.
You took the best of me and left me with this.
This person I do not want to be.
This weak soul.
Weaker than I ever thought I could be.

I used to be strong.
I chose not to fight back because I thought you needed me.
I wanted to help you.
To be there for you.
But you made me this person.
And I hate who I have become.

You aren't even here to help me through it.

When I finally need you.
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