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Silent whispers
Purple spoke to pink
Lavender winked
Somewhat convinced
Sugar red hibiscus
From his bed of green
Sprung into the conversation
With purple and pink
Yellow blush
Nine o clocks
Had to attend the briefing
By the sun
In his next meeting
The flowers seemed not to be in a rush
All, recently bloomed
They had moments enough  
To live
They tried to make the most of it
Under the rays of the sun
Flowers 🌸 🔆🌿🌿
Written - 23/07/2021
Your memories expand in my heart as I listen to your music.
There will be times in life when you have no one to wipe your tears except your own trembling hands.
Amparo
¡qué sola estás en tu casa
vestida de blanco!
(Ecuador entre el jazmín
y el nardo).
Oyes los maravillosos
surtidores de tu patio,
y el débil trino amarillo
del canario.
Por la tarde ves temblar
los cipreses con los pájaros,
mientras bordas lentamente
letras sobre el cañamazo.
Amparo,
¡qué sola estás en tu casa,
vestida de blanco!
Amparo,
¡y qué difícil decirte:
yo te amo!
There are different reasons why you write.
You write because...
...you're happy?
you're sad?
you're delighted?
you're mourning?
keeping a secret?
But whichever reason you have,
you still write what's inside.
What other people can't see,
can't decipher beneath the words you speak,
can't understand the emotions flowing
through the sentences you can't speak out loud.
You write, pouring the feelings you can't let out,
you write. using the words you once thought can't explain what you feel.
You write, thinking that someone out there can finally discern what you're hiding inside.
I'm writing this because I don't have any topic to write. I just feel like I need to write something tonight. I'm missing someone though, and I'm overthinking again. Big sigh
 Feb 2022 Me and You
j a connor
Given freely
Used honestly
Returned joyfully
Depression :
A. The depressing rememberances
or recollections
of the ultimate
black hole
before the
big bang
B. The conflict
of a body
that wants to live
and a mind that
wants to die
 Apr 2021 Me and You
ryn
Here
 Apr 2021 Me and You
ryn
.
Find me here.

Amidst the dry, tall grass,
under the bare-branched tree.

I’ll scribe afresh on its familiar bark -
Upon the other etches
I’ve made before,
as I wait for the coming of
the umpteenth sun,
that promised to follow
the wake of nonchalant moons.

Under the leafless tree.
Amidst the dead grass.

I am here.


.
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