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It's easy to say I love you when you are face to face.
It's easy to say I love you when you are inside someone.
It's easy to say I love you when they are caring for you.
It's easy to say I love you when the butterflies are in your
stomach and every waking moment is consumed with one another.

But it's not easy to say I love you when they want nothing to do with you.
It's not easy to say I love you when you know they don't love you.
It's not easy to say I love you when it's been a consistent battle to
remain friends.
It's not easy to say I love you when you always choose guys who
make you feel less than you are.
It's not easy to say I love you when I have been waiting four years for
you to feel anything for me.
And it certainly is not easy to say I love you when there is an ocean
separating the two of us.

I don't love you because I need you, I need you because I love you.
Love is not a feeling, or an emotional connection, or an opportunity not to be alone.
Love is dedication, a choice to knit your heart and soul to another because
nobody else can compare to the joy, peace, affection, and trustworthiness that you have.

So I love you. I love you. I love you.
You may never read this, but it's the deepest part of my love for you.
//On her//
This was my first ever poem, written in December of 2015.
And a woman who held a babe against her ***** said, "Speak to us of
Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.
  Apr 2016 Mary Elizabeth Kehoe
nivek
The poor in all society
are the true measure
of societies wealth
poor beyond poor
all naked souls protest
" its their own fault"
naked; without virtue or saving grace
Him
It wasn't like we meant to waste our time.
He just seem to have way to do that to you, without a second thought, he would **** it all out of you.
In the beginning you didn't even recognize it as abuse, and said "It only happened once." and "He didn't mean what he said." but we all know it happened again, and we all knew he meant every word.
In the moment we adored the attention, but when the fights broke out, it was as if he looked at us as machines, when in reality he was the machine, the robot, heartless and emotionless.
After you apologized for his mistake, you smiled and then he hugged you, but little did he know once he couldn't see your face, the smile faded and the frown grew.
You friends warned you of him and begged you to gain the self respect to leave, but you felt like you deserved it, because every fight seemed to be your fault or that maybe if you weren't the way you were it wouldn't have happened. You're constantly telling people you're fine and deep down you know you repeat it so much to convince yourself, not them.
So you're stuck, stuck with him. No matter how much your brain begs you to leave, your heart always hangs on to the pointless reasons to stay.
And in the end we know we didn't do it for ourselves, we did it for him, the abuser.
yet her heart seems to glow
her soul stays dry.
Despite the tears she continues to cry.
smile as fake as the truth she tells,
she's trapped inside her own living hell.
can't help but hide what she feels,
because--
the risk of getting prescribed pills
makes her fear being judged by cruel peers.
She stays away from beer,
because--
one good thing to lean on
could create a spiralling addiction
one more thing placed onto her boiling plate,
and--
she'd rather starve than eat away all the pain,
the sorrow and grief,
no love,
nothing but fear.
Pull up your blankets and cover your ears,
the screaming of her silence is painful to hear.
Nothing left but,
one single tear.
as it trickles down her cheek
will you be the one to help her to her feet?
heartbroken,
filled with sorrow.
she's dreading tomorrow.
yet--
you'll never know.
because--
she covered it up.
stayed silent until the very final day.
happy to escape to a better place
where her mind has traveled
day after day.
"don't bother to save me"
"I'm too far gone."
"promise me you'll help the next sad one"
Wrote this last week as a spoken word poem. It is going to be presented by me at a poetry festival in May.

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