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 Feb 2016 Olivia
Joell Bambi
We could do it all our own way.
But will they say we've lost our minds?
Maybe time has been too harsh on you darling; your face is mapped with lines.
They tell a story of where you've been, well
You never seem to look behind.
Maybe some things are best forgotten.

You've been scared of love for far too long.
My father taught me it was wrong - to trip someone if you weren't gonna catch them.
Your fickle heart is growing weary;
Afraid of how quickly the time passes by.
I do not think that you have learned to love me.
I know your soul does not yearn for me,
But somehow I have become a habit.

The sun and moon move in circles, both at loss for what's before.
What's behind?
Mourning what they have lost.
I sometimes think the angels, with their pure hearts, would scare the devils just as much.
My lonely heart echoes around these 4 walls.

They say I should learn to let you go, so I need you now more than I did before.
My best friend.
But the words will not run off my tongue.
What a mess we have made.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Marina Rose
I pass the time counting sheep
there is nothing I do better
sixty-six, sixty-seven
nights since I've slept.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
My-broken-heart
I’m sorry it ended like this,
There was no other way.
You told me how I couldn’t leave you,
But you never gave me a reason to stay.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Jovanna Walker
I love you a bit,
Okay maybe a little,
Average sounds just right,
It’s somewhere in the middle,
I lied that’s a little too tight,
I love you, I love you with all of my might.

Forever and always my mother you shall be,
Through troubles and triumphs,
Together endlessly,
On earth, in heaven, wherever we may go,
I want to tell you, I want you to know,
That like the day that gives into night,
My love may change but will always shine bright.
I love you; I love you with all of my might.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Nida Mahmoed
The steam was rising from a cup of coffee,
I glanced through it,
I caught nothing except emotionless eyes,
Our hearts are frozen,
It was at this very moment,
I realized,
Nothing could melt our hearts now,
I discovered,
We reached to ancient point.

By: Nida Mahmoed.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Polar
My most dear lord, king and husband,
The hour of my death now drawing on, the tender love I owe you forceth me, my case being such, to commend myself to you, and to put you in remembrance with a few words of the health and safeguard of your soul which you ought to prefer before all worldly matters, and before the care and pampering of your body, for the which you have cast me into many calamities and yourself into many troubles. For my part, I pardon you everything, and I wish to devoutly pray God that He will pardon you also. For the rest, I commend unto you our daughter Mary, beseeching you to be a good father unto her, as I have heretofore desired. I entreat you also, on behalf of my maids, to give them marriage portions, which is not much, they being but three. For all my other servants I solicit the wages due them, and a year more, lest they be unprovided for. Lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things.
Katharine the Quene.
7 January 1536
This is the last letter Katharine wrote to Henry. Its magnanimity is proof that the queen’s much-vaunted piety was sincere. However, she was not averse to a few rebukes. Henry had treated her horribly and she had not seen their daughter for years. But Katharine’s capacity for forgiveness was great, as was her self-delusion; in this letter, she again attributes his love for Anne Boleyn to mere physical desire.
Henry openly celebrated her death and she was buried as Dowager Princess of Wales in Peterborough Cathedral. In light of this, the last line of her letter becomes especially tragic. While she may have desired a visit with him above all else, Henry was only too happy to learn of her death. It is probable, too, that his harsh treatment of Katharine hastened her decline.
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Mitaja
en route
 Feb 2016 Olivia
Mitaja
i'm unaccustomed to carrying my heart
on my head across this field of mouths.
i know you lie inside one of them,
but my journey is long, twenty nights,
and my stubbornness accentuates my ******.
there are endless lips but only one entrance,
like rays of sun, the butterflies slow down
to the speed of parasols to pick up this epistle.
yet i'm unable to shake the maggots from my atrium,
you see, i'm alone in a park full of lovers
talking in tongues, fingers rooted in neck and hip.
yes, I wouldn't move a mile of you
to accommodate an inch of me. I'll arrive late,
eliminating holes by virtue of the *******.
hands are weights, and your wings
are elusive if not transparent.
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