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Two shades of her brunette shall heighten senses
with a fortune in butte her tone will sheen so well
only rapture here does tell ascribable delight  
with fortnight of her insight in aberration affront
and like Venus her star in dream will fashion
a romance of prevailing wind that sky alight sunset.
Martha Quin is Martha Dear here.
I’m the man humming to himself in the corner.
The one you will not notice,
until ten years down the road
when it’s last call,
and the dance floor has begun to clear.

When you are left all alone.

                                But that is fine,
                                                           I honestly don’t mind.

   I have a flask in my pocket and the taste of trouble on my lips.

I do enjoy dancing now and then, but never mind going home alone.
Sometimes it is preferred.

You will walk up to me
    and timidly ask
                              through drunken words
            for my hand to dance.

I will smile and answer,

“No.”

Then I will softly brush away the tear running down your cheek
and leave you to drown
under all the bridges you have burned.
Sorry everyone, but I am really ******* lately.
Up here atop
This mountain peak
Peace and serenity
Is what I seek

Trying to escape
Lifes daily grind
Some kind of meaning
I'm hoping to find

Breathing in
This cool fresh air
So far away
I haven't a care

The environment here
Can be cold and unforgiving
Kind of like
The life I'm living

Taking in
This magnificent sight
Praying to God
He'll make everything right
She hangs on by a thread
Becoming old and tattered
Knowing soon it will break
Unknowing what will happen after
All her dignity her grace
Wrapped into this thread that's worn
Her strength and fortitude
Teetering on the edge
Fingers numb and bloodied
As tight as she has wound it
Just hanging on for sanity
Pain letting her know she is alive
She wants to say enough
Just let go
But her will is stronger
than this thread that binds
The thread will not break...
 Jul 2016 PaperclipPoems
mikev
I would still love you
if my heart stopped beating
and I would still love you
if you told me you'd be leaving
I would still love you
if you dreamt of another
And I would still love you
if you told me it wasn't, working
See, maybe that's what's wrong with me
Maybe the doctors are right
It's a brain disease, OCD
I watch you free, through a window
Only I can see - I can see
a future where we embrace arms
share a place in Manhattan Beach
and make love by the water
I'd still love you
if I only had a tent
I'd still love you
No matter where we went
I'd still love you
if my hair went grey
And I'll still love you
Until my dying day -
I'm a star, or so I'm told
A person who's mind is much more old,
Than this skins tells, I've been through hell
And I'm still fighting for this
I'm living in the past
But looking forwards -
You told me, you'd still love me
If I changed genders -
I think that's something
I'll always remember -
Because I'll still love you
No matter what you are
I'll still love you
No matter your skin your hair
Your gender your art
I'll still love you
I'm standing here on the side of the road, rain falling on my shoes
Sorrow clouds my view
Lord knows I've paid my dues

Standing here in my misery knowing I'll never see the sunlight
Seeing my life as just a blight
Lord knows I'll never get it right

I'm standing here on the side of the road, rain falling on my shoes
I can't help but sing the blues
Lord knows I am confused

The demons reign within my memories
Lying "it truly had to be"
Lord knows my life's in jeopardy

I'm standing here on the side of the road, rain falling on my shoes
This agony remains in my soul infused
I know the Lords amused
 Jul 2016 PaperclipPoems
Torin
I saw your name growing in the trees
Light peaking through the canopy
Roots digging deeply into me
Flowers that were once merely seeds

I feel the grief
Of a falling leaf
A forest floor
and forgotten love

I heard my yearning spoken by ferns
Poetical lines grasping like vines
Enthralling as the pollen
Flowers that were once merely seeds

I see the end
In a broken limb
I feel the grief
Of a falling leaf

Your more beautiful than nature to me
Its only natural
That when this concrete jungle grows around me
I'll miss you
In the old part of town
There are still cobbled streets
And at one time
These streets were surrounded
By living working mills
Marking the towns heartbeat
Twenty-four hours a day
Seven days a week
The machines hammered the air
As the flying shuttles were cracked
From side to side of the weft
On more than a hundred looms
It sounded like a battlefield
And some would say it was

But that was long ago
And now the mills are dead
The buildings still stand
But inside they are broken
Housing many more
Modern endeavours
And in one of these old buildings
Within the same crusty bricks
There's another world that lives
In the dark hours at least
There's a night club that throbs
To the sound of bands playing
Different rhythms for the town
And the neon lights outside
Shine on the same old cobble stones

                                        By Phil Roberts
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