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 Dec 2014 Muggle Ginger
Hollow
He withered away slowly
Folded in, let go and relaxed
As time began to play tricks on his body

They say he used to tell stories
The old man
Stories of magic and sunshine showers and warm rain
Blue grass and white sand and endless oceans of flowers

They say something changed him

And whatever it was,
it began as something subtle at first
Nobody said a thing
Time passed &
his behaviors became stranger,
people murmured

He no longer yearned for his dreams
to come true,
becoming reclusive,
he rarely ventured outside anymore
to count the stars or
to sing rhymes,
play in the rain or
to catch butterflies
His taste for fine wine
disappeared altogether
like his pets

And if anybody knew
the pain he held inside,
they would have traded
their own world for his.

Sometimes you can see him
Sitting alone amidst the crowds
His eyes open, but not seeing
Lost, they say
Or perhaps, misunderstood
His hands fold gently across knees that once held children
In all their excitement for a new tale
His shoulders, once proud, carrying the air of glory
Now slump under the weight of
Something heavier than sadness

He's only a shell of who he once was
His lips no longer speak
of kindness nor gentleness,
there is something deeper,
a madness of sorts,
something burning,
hellfire flickers behind black irises
Some say he lives on the fringes,
survives on his broken heart,
could become unhinged at any moment
Keeping their distance,
nobody has the courage to ask,
they just go about their business,
as if his life doesn't matter

If there is a horizon to depression
Certainly, he has found it
The void extended an icy grip
Sealing him cold and bitter
He is entwined within a mess of his haunted past
Who will ask?
An eidolon stalks him
Begging to be released from sealed lips
Stamped together like a letter, never to be opened
Spoken of
Silence is laid across him like a blanket of despair

Cares of a better life
he discarded early,
the hands of the ones he loved
strangled all hope,
his bitterness lay silent,
crushing spirit
creating a hatred deep within
his heart,
so strong was this,
not love,
not a million kisses,
endless affection
could fix it,
he was too far gone.
Written in collaboration with the talented Jonny Angel.
 Dec 2014 Muggle Ginger
Amy
Hemingway said,
There is quite the difference
between kissing goodbye
and kissing goodnight.

I wanted a
"See you later",
but instead got the
"Goodbye".

Steinbeck stated that
Nothing good gets away,
If it's right, it happens.

If that's the case
how did we always end up feeling so
wrong?

Salinger suggested
that after falling in love
you never know
where the hell you are.

This, I can say is true.
Where the hell are we?

Dickens declared that
The truest wisdom
comes from a loving heart.

Yet a heart in love
can sometimes turn out to be
the least wise.

My friend, I think I'll just stick with
Orson Welles' theory:
"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone."

Anything else is simply illusion.
1st draft
 Dec 2014 Muggle Ginger
Just Melz
I realized...
I accept no love
Because I deserve **none.
It's OK that I'm unloved, cause I really don't deserve any anyways...

The title is a quote from the movie/book "The Perks Of Being A Wallflower", amazing movie, beautiful quote.
 Dec 2014 Muggle Ginger
blythe
You
are
the
missing
piece
to
make
my
puzzle
com­plete.
10W (:
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
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