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when my therapist asked
if ive ever experienced
love
i saw your face
i felt your hands
i heard your voice.

but

when my therapist asked
if ive ever experienced
heartbreak
i saw your face
my hands went cold
my ears were ringing.
i can tell her but she wont understand.
never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
fake
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago
please understand this poem is in a way just me talking to myself, reminding me to not trust a man who i once loved, thank you
People die
But we carry on with our habits
We still sip 2 cups of turkish coffee 3 times a day
We still reunite around Sunday's meal
We still clean the dishes right after lunch
We still try to close our eyes and sleep
We still take cabs to get to our jobs
We still make little jokes here and there
We still drink hot cocoa in the morning and tea at night
We still sleep in our underwear
We still hug our biggest pillow in bed
We still wear the same perfume
We still nag about going to work
We still take naps
We still carry a notebook everywhere we go
Almost everything goes back to being the same
But there is this little something inside us, not a scar not sadness nor grief nor anger nor denial, but something that has twisted and changed, something that has cried and learned, something that can move a heavier mountain now, something that keeps us going with who we are.
Something like a storm, that destroys all the frail roads and all the frail apartments - a strong hurricane with all the winter's rain that blows away your clothes and makeup and washes you clean again.



- LynnAA

I miss you
I love you
Thank you
Visit me more often in my shower. I need to feel you. I have so much more to tell you.

01/10/2017
Not with your pear-shaped eyes which are a perfect colour of brown,
Or what they do to me when you look my way.
Not with that deep-bass voice of yours that's so **** ****,
and how it keeps me glued to the phone.
Not with how you have this way with words,
and how you sound so charming and cheesy all at once.  
Not even with that, half naughty-half innocent crescent between your cheeks, and how it's stuck, when we share an inside joke in public.
Not with that strong musky scent of yours that reels me in so bad,
Or how it turns me on when I just think about it on my skin.
Not with how you make me laugh at you and then with you,
and then even wipe my tears of laughter.
No.
Not with just these things.
They have been loved enough.
But, I do want to fall in love with everything about you...
that the others never did.
My little brother cuts himself
And I wonder about the scars

Imagine that they are more like
the lines inside the trunk of a fallen tree
An indication of how long he has lived
or how fast he grew

and time is a funny thing now
Because it is easy to forget how old he is
because of how old he looks
and on the inside
who knows

I just think of counting rings
on a fallen tree stump
like a warped record

after the day grows quiet
if I placed a needle to the wood
What song would it play?
too many poems
too many poets
describing the
same **** feelings
and yet
throughout the centuries
none of us
have ever found
the right words
// spent my whole life tryna put it into words //

thank you so much for the daily ♡
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