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 Dec 2013 Marsya Ian
melo
i love the way you hold my hand so tight
like if you let go, i'll be gone forever
and the way i can't tell if it's your palm sweating or mine
i love that i don't mind

i love the way your voice sounds after you kiss me
breathy and soft, and nervous
almost shaky
you remind me what it's like to be fifteen again

i love how delicately you touch me
like i'm something precious, something treasured
something breakable
because i am

i love how you say "i'm yours" instead of "you're mine"
because you understand that love and possession aren't the same
and i have every part of you as you have, me
forever and ever, "and ever and ever and ever"

i love the way your hands shake when they touch my cheek
the way your fingers tremble as they hover above my skin
how you hesitate before every move you make
like you're scared to mess up, like i'm something you can't risk losing

the only thing i don't love
is that i can't manage to spit out the only words
that occupy my mind when i'm with you
"i love you"
I was a phony,
a fake.
A wasted excuse for life.
I would look into the mirror and see nothing in my eyes.
I was another artifact that this selfish world has created.
I was blending into the world around me,
you don't even notice that i'm standing here,
right in front of you.
But I don't want to be like that.
I want to be a vibrant red in a sea of grays
I want to be something beautiful,
something pleasing to look at.
I want to flourish into a beautiful rose.
I want to be like a new rainfall after a lifetime of droughts.
I want to be inspiring and beautiful
I want to be hope for the hopeless.
But since i'm not,
how can I get there?
How can I stand out?
How can I make a difference?
Am I able to do it?
Do I just not see all the possibilities to change?
Maybe i'm just afraid of change...
 Dec 2013 Marsya Ian
The Haywire
I stare at the blank page for long
Can't muster the courage to be strong
And write freely what my heart desires
But somehow turn towards the fleet of liars

Why! Why I ask, they tell me I'm not good enough
How! How am I supposed to learn to be tough
There is always this feeling nagging me in the back of my head
That I'm not even good enough to write for the dead

Then I turn towards those friendly species
My dog, my frog and my writing desks
I hear them encouraging me to write
And tell me it's so much better than to strive

I've decided I'm not going to listen to those fools
Neither their criticizing tone nor the conniving tools
And this is what a writer's dilemma is all about
To write from the heart and not listen to the world's bout
 Dec 2013 Marsya Ian
Dougie Simps
Could you imagine wishing on a star?
Or hoping on a comet.
The feeling of being love sick
Your emotions make you *****
The speed of overthinking
Why won't your mind stop racing
Thinkin about her, restless love
Why won't you heart stop pacing?
The way I feel it's such a sudden rush
The heart beats faster, it's almost like a crush
One that could **** you
By the weight of your feelings
By the scars of your past
Hoping she can be ya painful healing
The burn of the passion
Questions without asking
The feeling of the bass
The music of love that's everlasting

I'm no gem
Nor am I a diamond in disguise
I'm every thing you every wanted
I'm the dream, I'm your next guy.
I want her so bad
 Dec 2013 Marsya Ian
Ary
She's like a book with no pages to be folded
but the chapters are stated
she's the writer she's the character
stories that she keeps for her daughter.

Families, friends and soul mate
where the problems are hard as Math
And that is what is all about
that make she cries and pouts.

The book reaches its point
And she goes to the fountain and throws her coin
Wishing her life is a dream
Tears running down like a stream.

As all her wishes have just came true
where all her pasts are like a tattoo
remain in her heart
out of our sights.

This is the ending of the story
about a girl who tries to wary
endured the war by herself
to please the world that she served.


a.b
This is for my friend, Marsya :)
 Nov 2013 Marsya Ian
w4nie5tu
Eyes
 Nov 2013 Marsya Ian
w4nie5tu
An electric shock runs deep inside me,
as my eyes reflect into yours,
returning to me
the fiery desire you hold within.

I see you; in one glance I see all of you.
Piping chills, icicles forming, a sensation
you mean always to deliver to me,
portraying your beautiful spirit.

A portal of green, snaked with dark
forests, moving me to your heart.
A comfort that exempts me
of all strain.
Like bathing in sheets
of silk.

Truly soothing.
Warming.
Chilling.

Your eyes.

{n.j}

— The End —