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 May 2016 Paul Gilhooley
Thomas
They told me that it would be okay,
They told me that there was nothing to worry about,
They told me that I could be what I wanted to be,
They told me that I was loved,
They told me that I could be part of the family,
They told me that they would believe in me,
They told me that they would try ,
They told me that I Should try,
They told me that they never lie,
As a sit on my bed I wonder how many times they have lied.
It's a poem
I can't look at you
I can't give into your lies
but it is still hard
Throughout
our lives
we try to
win over the
hearts
of
others

But,
sometimes
the
hardest person
of all
to
love is
yourself
... My eyes,
To mirror your sighs,
I will give you my smile,
To dance with your smile,
I will give you my hands,
For you to paint the beauty
Of the fertile lands
In the hills of Tuscany.
I will give you my open arms
To surround your shoulders,
When you feel cold during the winters.
I will give you my soft kisses
To dry up your tears
On your pale cheeks
So I can chase your fears.
I will give you my memory,
For you to remember
Our forgotten kisses, if any.
I will tell you some of my secrets,
Even the ones from the Pool,
In case you show interest,
And there you would think I'm a fool.
And of course I will give you
My Ocean Blue,
For you to dive into.
But I will never give you
Anything that can hurt you.
Somehow,
You need to know
That I can only give all this
When you come back from the abyss
To which you've decided to depart,
Leaving me alone to dream of you,
With art.
I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine
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