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In a world of so many
how can someone feel lost or even alone
I don't know where I'm going
I do not know my place
So many people but I feel alone

In a world of so much connectivity
how do I feel so disconnected
To many people to count all talking to each other
so many connections been made each day
But I struggle to connect, I struggle to fit in
I struggle to find friendship

In a world of so many people
a world of so much connectivity
Why is it I can not find love?

So many people, so many connections
Yet I feel alone
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it, if you have any questions please ask them and I will try to answer them a.s.a.p.


If you would like to follow my on Twitter, search for
@Craigus987
In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
So many words.
So many things already said too many times and too little.
Originality is something to be desired;
Because I won't be the hundredth person that day to tell you that everything will be okay.
It will all work out.
You're fine.
You'll get over it.

No.

600,000 words in the English language and I'm left stumbling for the right ones just to try to make you smile again.
There's not more fish in the sea because they were your ocean.
You won't be with them again soon because you need to live a long life! even if they couldn't.
The sun won't be brighter tomorrow; it will shine just the same.
And I'm sorry.
When you shot for the moon you couldn't reach the stars, but maybe next time if you shoot for the stars you'll be caught by the moon.

This world is full of things unspoken and words not said even when they need to be poured out like alphabet soup we leave them in the can.
Because it's taboo or rude, there are times when "you just don't say those things" no matter how true they may be.
I could write you a novel of the things that I believe to be correct but that won't make the pain go away.

A picture is worth a thousand words and heartbreak is worth a million.
I just don't have anything useful to fill in those spaces where the words are supposed to go.

In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
And I can't think of a single one to say to you.
 May 2014 Melody Millett
Chris
I shouldn't let it bother me.
I'm starting to think
there's something wrong with my head.
I'd like to think everyone would tell me to let go.
I'd like to think I would if I knew how.
I still write you poems.
Not on paper of course,
I can't just leave them around your house anymore.
I found one in the corner of my ceiling last night.
It had something about the ocean and your skin.
I smiled.
I've forgotten the way you looked at me.
It's better this way.
It's exhausting;
knowing you still exist, figuring out if I still do too.
You understood,
that's more than I can say for anyone else.
Most days break me.
I stand up most of the time
and remember how you taught me that's okay.
I'm sorry I can't write anything better lately
Falling so passionately
into the sea of your love

My heart flying away
on the wings of a dove

Say my name once more
and I'll be forever yours.

Together,
we will open many new doors

Let me tell you this...for you need to know...

You're my one and true love
and I've known ages ago.

You're my dear....
so please...
always stay near.
"a poet in love is a match soaked in gasoline" (not my quote but i love it)
 May 2014 Melody Millett
Chloé
let
 May 2014 Melody Millett
Chloé
let
let it be one kiss with pure consience
let it be one hug with a deep heat
let it be one look with a innocent grin
let it be the truth without an evil end
Give them to me.
All the pieces of your broken heart.
Give them to me.

I'll take them.

All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams.


Give them to me.
I will take them.

Give them to me.


They are wanted here.


All the parts of your misspent childhood. All the regrets of ticking seconds behind you.

Give them to me.

And we will build a cathedral. A stained glass window of who we are as tall and as beautiful as it should be.

Let me have them.

And we will make a mosaic that stretches as wide as the sky. Showing every color your heart gained from the bits and pieces left on the ground.

I will take them.

And forge a sculpture of how beautiful the ideas are that we cast out in our failings and we will cast it in our failings.

Let me have them.

And we will ***** a monument of all the small things in the shape that you remember them.
Towering. Looming. Striking. Beautiful.

Let me have them so we might bind the words said and regretted, (or worse) left unsaid in leather and call it scripture.

Our Psalms. Our Proverbs:

“The tip of my finger dangles like my tongue. Wanting to touch something beautiful.”

“If it were not for him, it would have been us.”

“You were all my brightest colors.”

“I wish I were more like you.”

“I wish I were less like me.”

“I am sped.”


And we will read them at dawn like litany.

Stretching our voices to the corners of the universe. Asking for the wishes you make when you are scared. Or alone. Or both.

That we may take them.

And make a blanket.

A blanket to cover our childhood and let it rest at last.

I will take them.

All the parts you no longer want.

Give them to me.

Because they are what make us beautiful.

Give them to me.

That I may forge them into pitch and feathers and craft mighty wings.

That I may take flight from your worry. And soar on the updraft of your misconception.

Give them to me.
I will take them.

Because I would rather burn like Icarus than to have never dared to fly.
This was a birthday gift to myself. I am giving it to you.
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