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It has been a year.
Instead of forgetting you,
I've spent my time waiting for the day
you'll change your mind.

People asked me if
I've already moved on, and I knew
I've moved backwards.
Back to the time we were together.

I still miss you.
I still long for your kisses.
I still dream of Saturday afternoons.
I still wish for Sunday mornings,
of evening meals together,
of motorcycle rides to the countryside.

**I am still here.
My poetry is my witness.
I still love you.
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
S(kills)
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
The spark you said you saw
(Within me)
Is smothered, smudged and smeared
On your sheets
The sheer shadows are shaded
And I bleed
Bitter black, bleak
Ink

The spark you saw has swam
In their sea
Of sweet, swollen, stolen
Beauty
(Their art is all I hope mine to be)
Brave, Beautiful, Brilliant

Ink

If my spark could be
A raging flame
If my flame could be
Beautiful pain
You’d read my dread
And understand
The sparks (Infernos)
in my head

Sprouting from my hands
When I wrote this poem, I was feeling very inadequate. No matter what talent you have, there seems to always be someone who is better than you at it. Despite the suggestion of writing in the poem, I wrote this with drawing in mind. I always inevitably fall into jealousy whenever I see an artpiece that I prefer over mine. Why can't I draw like that? HOW did they do this? Will I ever draw like this?
Then the wise one within me speaks a little louder:
"Maybe. Maybe not. Who cares? Why do I want to have someone else's style anyway? Why should I envy anyone? Why bitter jealousy, and not admiration? Why inadequacy, and not inspiration? And I KNOW that those same persons have felt inadequate before."

Thanks for reading <3
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
Precious
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
Cradled,
in the warm comfort of her love,
her baby smiles.

She smiles too
and something under her heart's stony grave
shifts.

Precious,
yet more priceless than her own life,
she'd sacrifice everything.

For this child
is now everything to her
eyes

"He looks like his daddy"
Those ugly words.
Symbols of a hated life.
Hated by her mother.
And her too.


She'll live it for her baby.
She'd go to hell for her baby.
She wants heaven for her baby.


"He looks like his daddy"
Ugly, ugly words.
Nothing but bitter, rotten,

lies.

Precious,
she smiles at the world in her hands,
in her arms,
She never had something so good before.
So ugly, like his daddy.


She turns from the eyes.
His eyes.
So harsh on her shivering, sweaty skin.
******* her to the bone.
That smile.
Drool dripping from the lips.
Of that chasm of knives
And lies.


"Yes, daddy loves you"

A dog on her body.
Invading her system.
Her skeleton tied.
To his bed.
And her life.


"He looks like his daddy".
His daddy, her daddy.
Her son, his son, her brother.
His mother, her mother, his life, her life, his smile his smile his smile.
His smile.

Not his smile.

Precious. Priceless. Her world. Her life.
Not him.
Never him.

She smiles.
I watched 'Precious' for the first time a while back. That is all.
Wait, no, not all. For all the precious girls out there, I want you to know that you are called precious, beautiful and important for a reason. Never forget.
Thanks for reading <3
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
Opposites
 Sep 2016 naeuta
mickaela
I know there are others,
                                                         ­                                                        Like me
                         They are there, searching for each other (and themselves),
                                                    ­                                                            Like me
                                                      I know they are slowly learning the truth
                                                           ­      That, like me, they are not like you

                                                            ­                                                          You
   ­                                                                 ­                            Are you like me?
                                                             ­                    Maybe not, or maybe yes
                                                Maybe, you’d like me, because I am like you

                                                            ­                          But perhaps you aren’t
                                                          ­                       Maybe, you aren’t like me
                                                              ­                     And that’s okay too, you

                                                            ­                                 You are not like me
                                                              ­                     And you are everywhere
                                                    An­d its just like me, to want to be like you

                                                            ­                        You want to be different
                                                       ­                       Unlike me, I want the norm
                                                            ­                    I want to be common...but

                                                   ­        If you were like me and I was like you
                                                  You’d want to be me and I’d want to be you

And, like you, I’d be connected
With the world, related
I’d be like you, associated
With the world, correlated

Like you...I want to be “different”
No,weird.....”Unique”?
Like you, I’d want to be “special”
But isn’t that just odd?

                                                      You know what
                                                        Let’­s just stop
                                                        Tiri­ng, isn’t it
                                                      Confusin­g, silly
                                             Foolish, completely idiotic

                                                    Midw­ay, Let’s end
                                                         Let’s just be
                                                        You and me
I have been on both sides of the spectrum-too weird and too normal. When I felt out of place, I wanted to be normal. By normal, I don't mean boring or whatever. No one is really boring, after all. I mean...you know, normal. Normal?
I know, I don't know what that is either. After I became what I thought was normal, I did feel dull and boring.And it was tiring, pretending to be someone I'm not.

The wise voice in my head told me that I was being stupid and that normal doesn't exist and that everyone is weird and blah blah blah. That voice is probably right. But no matter what, I'll always want to fit in. I don't even want to be 'normal' anymore. Just accepted.

Thanks for reading<3
 Sep 2016 naeuta
Illya Oz
Birthday
 Sep 2016 naeuta
Illya Oz
I am I!

I scream to the sky
And do you want to know why?
Because too day is my day

When I get up in the morning
My hopes are up soaring
Like the birthday bird from Katroo

Today was the day of my birth
Without it I would have no worth
Because I would be an isn't

A day filled with happiness and joy
A day nothing bad could destroy
Even if someone tried

Because today I am me
And that is all I'll ever be
Today I'll make you see

I am I!
It was my Birthday the other day and it made me remember the book 'Happy Birthday To You! by Dr Seuss' I really like Dr Seuss's writing especially the quote “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” from that book.
 Sep 2016 naeuta
Melinda Barrett
Is there a word in any language that means I miss you everyday?
The absence of that word negates anything else I could ever say
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