Of all the things you mean to me,
I don't feel like we're best friends anymore.
There are too many unspoken truths between you and me;
Too many mixed up lies.

Now I want to tell you everything
I've been hiding for so long.
You've been here since the beginning.
Please don't forget me in the end.

Just look at her!
She's so radiant and flawless!
Her footsteps leave marks of perfection
She walks with confidence
She's not afraid to walk with her head *****,earning all mans respect
She's not afraid to breathe because this air is her own!
Her smile is so contagious
She makes it look so effortless!
Something most people couldn't do for years she does on a daily basis!

Little do they know that she leaves behind a morbid home.
A place where her heart is unknown.
Where punches get thrown like dice
Where she walks on thin ice!
Where her tears put her to sleep
Where she prays to God and gives Him her soul to keep.

But before she goes out into the world she masks her face with the ashes of her soul.
Because she's perished on the inside
And flaunts whatever is left of her tarnished soul.
She approaches the world forgetting about her pain
But still holds on to the thought that each day she sees might be her last.
So she smiles
Yes
That woman with the smile on her face.

SWEETHEART,

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE CURE.

AND

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE DISEASE.

Poetry is a river running.

You know it is there and
sometimes you take
long walks on its banks.

One day, a Muse emerges
and calls out your name
in a magikal language.

Suddenly, you know
where you belong.

You jump in, surface,
roll over and float,
but remain immersed
for the rest of your life:

mesmerized, flowing,

speaking only in poems.

  ~mce