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 Dec 2014 Nicholas
Tiffany Marie
This is real love it is known to all and liked by all
This real love is like it isn't real but yeah it is it's love
This real love is the death of me both killing my soul and me
This real love is cherished when given and cried for when begged
This real love is insane it is wanted and is needed it is hurt and worth it
This real love is true and alike it is here and enjoyed it is special and lovely
This real love is truthfully real and wanted and needed and cherished and loved and alike and real
This love is real
This life is real
This love is true
This love is believable
This love is for sure absolutely truthfully cherished and *real
for sure
This real love is true
 Dec 2014 Nicholas
Marie-Chantal
You can busy yourself about the day
Keep the wretched words away
Write, so they are not so strong
Read, so you do nothing wrong.

They will catch up on you, however
With you and your heart forever,
These tiny little gnawing thoughts
With their presence you are lost.

Among the headaches and the pain
In this place nothing to gain

Shut your eyelids tight
When the stars are high
And the moon is bright


But try and wish what you may
You cannot keep the thoughts away
On your little devoured soul
You wish, you wish you could be whole.
I suffer pretty badly from obsessive thinking, and this was just my way of dealing with it tonight.
 Dec 2014 Nicholas
Marie-Chantal
It's within the grown out roots
where the Garden Owl still hoots
Sings the melancholy song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong.

It's within the thatching of the dwelling
And a failed attempt at fortune telling.
Beyond the garden of the bugs
Beyond the magpies and the slugs

A moon was folded into quarters
Grind it with pestle and mortar
Strip it down to crater powder
Feel it till the song sounds louder

The Garden Owl sings his song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong
And under the brown thatched roof
The girl detests her blue eyed youth
I think I could work on this one a lot more, I guess it's sort of like a first draft, but what kind of write would I be if I did not have lots of unfinished pieces?
 Dec 2014 Nicholas
Beth Richter
My throat is a desert,
Scratched sore with sand.
My cheeks soaked and stained,
With tears that will not end.

My heart faintly beating,
Each pump proves a test.
It hurts to go on living,
Yet life continues in my chest.

My nights are sleepless,
My days a misty haze.
I feel so lost without you,
Each day an endless maze.

I search for all the words,
Though never even said.
They are mixed and jumbled,
All around inside my head.

Each day I face this war,
Between remember and forget.
It weighs me down, this endless chore,
I wake each morning with regret.

They say time is the only way to heal,
Fresh cuts soon fade to scars.
So why does this pain I feel,
Still leave me dizzy, seeing stars.
 Dec 2014 Nicholas
unnamed
give me a white room with him on a couch
while we talk about his lover
he looks at me while he kisses her
i know he wishes it was me in his arms
and i will keep trying
until it is
a possible series of drabbles about dreams
Deep inside me
There is this anger
This hatred
This..  bitterness.

And I feel it towards everyone.
Not just those who hurt me
The ones who betrayed me.

No this bitterness...
Is for all.
Trust no one
Love no one
Believe in nothing

But then...
I saw a change

A change in myself...

I was dying inside
Because deep down
This hatred was of

The person I am.

No one can help me.


No one can save me now

Because I hate who I've become


And I fear I always will
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