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Thorefin,
Therifen,
Theraphin,
Raven Angel.
I do not expect
you to undestand.

I am he.
He is me.
She are we.
We are thee,
And there are more.
I do not think
This is something
Ordinary men conceive.

All the paintings of darkness
Are not to impress upon the critics
The level of my shallow depth,
Nor are my phrasings for the sake of vanity.

It is the darkness that gives lessons to the light, of things that I am not afraid to learn.

Like a papillon in a  season of change,
I am transformed into a dark lamp,
For I  have stood in many shadows.

I have soaked up the knowledge.

In my shadow,
Illumination awaits.
I have a love for all things Teutonic.
The evocation at the beginning of this piece is of the psuedonyms  I have used. This work is new.
I:

Dear Diary,

It was not hard to understand,
The feelings that he stirred in me.
I don't really think I was ready,
But he had to have his way with me.

As he pulled back the coverlet
His eyes gleemed in the candlelight.
I felt his callused hands upon my newness
And trusted him with my life.

His words were all I could have wanted
As our fingers interlocked, then splayed.
Nobody told me how much love hurts,
But I loved him, anyway.

He gently kissed me on my forehead,
And told me not to cry.
He used his beautiful lips
To kiss tears from my eyes.

I knew I had forever changed
As I watched him button up his coat.
Then he gently reminded,
I should not tell a living soul...

II:

Dear Diary,

How could I have known that I would love him,
But be left to deal with this alone.
I used an alias on the forms,
So nobody else will ever have to know.

I wondered how I'd feel when it was over,
When I've heard the doctor say that he was through.
I wonder how long I'll miss my baby.
Ending it was all that I could do.

As I walked alone along the Boulevard,
I realize that I must hurry home.
I told them I would be on time for dinner.
(God, please don't let them ask where I did stroam)

The heart can take a body many places
That you never dreamed your soul would go,
Can make you do things you never thought you would.
Most of all, the heart can lay you low.

I wonder if our paths should cross again,
Will I tell him of the ended pregnancy.
Perhaps if he had not gone away
We would have been a wholesome family...
I often write from a perspective outside myself, because as much as I am a poet, I am a teller of stories. Two Entries does not argue the case for it's subject matter. It is not based on any personal stories I have heard.
She had the kind of voice that
Could calm a stormy sea
And in its absence, my heart
Is a maelstrom and I'm
Discovering how deep the
Ocean really is.
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