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i remembered the rose
in the vase on my desk
dried up but, somehow, intact
and when i picked it up
to toss it outside
a few petals fell away
drifted to the floor
and all i could do was sigh
and say
i know.
edited
Your thoughts are diluted
By the most beautiful of clouds
And I swear to god I feel your soul
And admit I am proud
When I say the words I love you
I'm honest and I'm sure
You have a heart like uncut flesh
So kind
So pure,
Tainted
And unsure.
A clouded sky endures harsh rain
Where flowers soon will flourish
In the garden of your mind waves
My heart you seem to nourish.
Sky parted and water fell through
It occurred to me slowly as most things do
In my short life all I desire
Is your heart, the sea and fire.
 Jul 2013 Mauri Pollard
kal
You creep up, always in the shadows,
Silently, you always lurk in the darkness.
Your thought submerges itself in my mind.

Go away go away go away.

A feeling of fear and loss you bring.
Along with you, it follows, slowly.
Trying to suffocate me, you don't give up.

Go away go away go away.

Future is lost, a smudge in my memory.
Irrationality soon follows behind.
Laughing hard, you constantly mock me.

Go away go away go away.

You want me to go away with you.

Go away go away go away.
you spent an hour alone in the pouring rain
fifty degrees and dropping
waiting, waiting
blocking out the chaos
with those borrowed grey earbuds that bruise your ears

maybe you wanted someone to see you
and ask why

or maybe you just wanted pneumonia
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
Ray
Untitled
 Jun 2013 Mauri Pollard
Ray
Please tell me you love me one last time before i go
Hush the demons inside me for a little while more
The longer I'm left waiting to hear that you haven't gained a clue
(As to the torment i feel i put you through)
The louder my demons twist my thoughts to destroy my good faith in you.
So please, i know i ask too much but for now all i need from you
Is one last kiss and promise of love before i bid adieu
The last time I saw you, you were standing there at the gate, watching me walk away  
I was trying to look cool, like nostalgia in motion
That’s a difficult thing to pull off when you’re constantly looking back 
You were smiling and waving, like it was all gonna be alright
I secretly hated you for that  
Everything in my being screamed at me to turn around, to run back to you
I wanted to take your hand in mine and pull you out of there like Wayne did to Cassandra…
Only I didn’t

I did my duty
I turned around one last time at the end of the longest hallway in the world and stole one last look
Blinking back the burning sensation in my eyeballs and the tightness in my throat
And then I plodded on
Just like I was supposed to
I had a stabbing pain in my gut like things would never be the same again
Like the WE we were was dying and going away forever  
At the time I dismissed that sharp unbearable thought as sentimental weakness
The sloshy musings of an admittedly overdramatic youth  
Never would’ve guessed my gut knew so much more than my thirsty brain
With its linear logic and high powered deductive reasoning
I told myself we’d be together again soon
I told myself to focus on the task at hand, and you’d be the reward waiting for me at the end of it all
The bright white light at the end of my long dark tunnel  
I told myself you’d be the sunshine on the other side of the mountain
Knowing somewhere deep down it wasn’t true  
Knowing somewhere deep down, that the WE we were
Now existed only in my fondest memories
Only in the dark moments I would occasionally indulge on the cool side of my pillow
I turned around
And walked out of your life
the promises that are broken
have only been yours
unfaithful relationships
is a habit you adore
i am locked up here
and i can't be anything else
but your sweet prisoner
and that prisoner is myself
I write a lot about things I don't understand.
I keep thinking that maybe if I write about them,
I'll be able to gain a better knowledge.
So far this has proved untrue.

I write a lot about love when all I really know is that it hurts.

I've been told by people (yes plural) that they either
don't know how to love or don't like love itself.
And quickly and shakily, and with an unstable mindset,
I am starting to think that what those people meant was not
"I don't know how to love", but "I don't know how to love you".
Not "I don't like love", but "I don't like the idea of love with you"

I am a blackhole of both unrequited love and endless bottles of
self destruction and I secretly like being perpetually alone.
I am a lover without a lover.
I am a writer, and writers are almost always broken.
If not broken, there are definitely surface cracks.
Take it from me.

My poems are all about love and you, and I don't quite understand.
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