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Feb 2019 · 214
Fayre Feb 2019
He was the sun -
orbiting around her lifeless body,
bringing growth and development
to her nimble structure she called

Keeping it short and bitter. Sometimes we just feel misunderstood and unnoticed.
Jan 2019 · 141
Down the Rabbit Hole
Fayre Jan 2019
The inevitable change of
circumstances leaves me
weakened -

I have become undone.
Sometimes I feel like I'm whirling down my own rabbit hole.
Nov 2018 · 1.0k
Fayre Nov 2018
Departed from a life I had once called love, I now tremble in fear for the visions ahead;
I am alone - in a world crowded with loneliness.
I have become vulnerable to the life I lead
Nov 2018 · 362
Here I am
Fayre Nov 2018
The absent-minded speaks no fear.

For forgetting - is far more peaceful,
than a life of remembrance
and pain.
I've been gone for so long, but I'm m trying to find myself again.
Jul 2018 · 1.1k
Fayre Jul 2018
I lived in a house,
but he was my home.
There's no place like home.
Jul 2018 · 298
Fayre Jul 2018
I have been malnourished
of good people
and good poets.
Sometimes I have high expectations from low end humans.
Jul 2018 · 912
To Hurt is to Understand
Fayre Jul 2018
Sometimes it’s just there

That feeling in your chest,
like a dead weight being  dropped onto your lungs;
preventing you from gasping for that breath of fresh air.
That feeling of helplessness,
intercepts your ability to scream at the top of your lungs.

Sometimes it's just there.
I can’t explain what it feels like.
But if I had to try,
I  would say it's agony.
It's torment,
but absolutely remarkable.
Sometimes I feel like I'm just going under.
Jul 2018 · 2.4k
Fayre Jul 2018
Well my mind is a cage enclosed with fragments of my soul
drifting away into the infinite amount of nothingness
that flows through my bloodstream and
embodies my mind and soul.

Her freedom had yet to be discovered.
I'm going where the wind takes me.
Jul 2018 · 1.5k
Dandelion Wine
Fayre Jul 2018
"Fall swooned
Left me drunk in a field
Dandelion wine for a year

And i packed up the dust
Of all that i owned
Handkerchief hung from a pole

I rolled out the day that the apples fell…"

- Gregory Alan Isakov
Currently listening to Dandelion Wine - Gregory Alan Isakov. Feel like the world needs a piece of his music and lyric.
Jul 2018 · 2.0k
An empty house
Fayre Jul 2018
The inescapable thought that forever meant till death.
The indefinite idea that two souls separated at form,
were awaiting to meet each other again and reattach in passing.

The aching realization slowly started to settle in.
Forever wasn't till death do us part.

Forever was the love that remained when two beings had been  separated.
The idea and thought of the memory of love, lust and friendship were the only traits that would endure after passing.

But they move on.
Creating another forever that too will be cherished until death do they part.

A small forever was all that we needed,
to find a serene place where we felt like we belonged.
Sometimes I feel things that I think I shouldn't be feeling.
Jul 2018 · 4.7k
Solely Alone
Fayre Jul 2018
In sable darkness and deafening sounds of her bedroom silence,
she found herself aching
in deep cogitation.

The full moons brightness had peered in
through her window pane,
but with its light
encompassed her with defeat
and decay.

Reality had settled in;
as she felt her body slowly submerge,
She knew
she was no longer her own saving grace.

She awoke in a place of death and morbidity,
But awoke in a state of contentment and comfortability.

Her agony remained; as the remembrance of today,
the ideas of what will come tomorrow,
and the hope of assurance to what she forebodes her future to be,
with the life she leads.

At last

the words had finally escaped.

“Bittersweet serenity.”
Sometimes I write at night.
There's something about the evenings that make me feel inspired.
Jun 2018 · 4.7k
Fayre Jun 2018
Her mind became
the antagonist
of her own being,
pursuing the sadness
that followed her treachery.
My mind empowers the person I am.
May 2018 · 1.3k
Spot Me
Fayre May 2018
Trapped in a state of solitude,
The area surrounding her became a vacant land.

She was magnificent.
Like a flower that wept petals.

but so
A poem of acceptance.

— The End —