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 Feb 2018 mary j
Shannon
free
 Feb 2018 mary j
Shannon
you touch me
like a child
eyes bright
 Feb 2018 mary j
al
sunshine
 Feb 2018 mary j
al
you are my sunshine
you brighten my day
take the coldness away  

you are my sunshine
wherever you are i can feel you
you make grow and stand tall

you are my sunshine
through all the worn tissue
i know it’s clearly you

you are my sunshine
and only that
my everything
 Feb 2018 mary j
Eric the Red
The truth about poets
Is
They’re not all alike
Some are derelicts
Scalawags
Lovers
Sisters
Some say they’re writers
Instead of Poet
For they know what that puts
Into the minds of others
Romantic
Lethargic
Gypsy
Some will never write novels
Poems are their Ulysses
Their ‘Love in the Time Of Cholera
Some are sad
Withdrawn
Choose to live there
While some poets
Use their words
To claw their way out
Some have fallen out of love
&
Want someone
ANYONE
to listen
While some have fallen in
the deepest ocean
&
Want to tell the world
What this man
This woman
Means to them

Most write their verses
Alone
Some at midnight
Some at sunrise
Some with coffee
Most with bottles

Most will never see the reaction
Of many
Will never hear
‘I like that...’

And most don’t want to be famous
Or sometimes heard
We
Just want to be
Ourselves
 Feb 2018 mary j
NeroameeAlucard
I'm single.
And it has obvious benefits
I don't have to share my food, and i won't be yelled at for occasionally being emotionally
Oblivious.
But I'm a mess too, a disaster that no one wants a part of, but i guess that's why I'm apart from most everyone.

I'm single
Because it takes courage to love, courage that i don't have anymore because I've cried too much like a purple dove.
Everyday i see random couples out there in the streets under the spell of love
And being crippled by the hooks of loneliness i look up above and wonder what sin did i commit?
Can i change this sentence with a legal team and a habeus corpus writ?

I'm single
And cynical, growing more everyday.
I can't even appreciate a love song anymore, i know i sound crazed.
But you'd feel the same if everyday
You die just a bit more inside with each affectionate display.

I'm single
Because i can't offer anything but myself
No wealth, mediocre at best looks, and at best average health.
I'm a wreck no one wants to fix... so I'll do it without help.
Man, this is sad.
 Feb 2018 mary j
A'ishah
Suicide
 Feb 2018 mary j
A'ishah
Suicide is my way of being free,
Crawling out of the hole I created.
Suicide is the only way out of the pain, I feel.
Can't run from it, always a step behind.
The worst is that i'm trapped in my own mind.

My fake smile is getting heavier, can't hold it for much longer,
My eyes can't hold back. Done living in the dark, going through motions. I think its time to give up & be free.

~Aishah
Suicide is NEVER the answer.
 Feb 2018 mary j
Valerie
you're a haze of ninety-nine cents dreams,
naivety bottled in your distressed jeans
and your ******-inspired bambi teardrop eyes;
and i'm the devil behind why you've cried

your mouth chokes with fury and rage
'so why are you still here?' i ask again
but secretly, i know you and your obsession
-the glory tales of getting heartbroken

you know i'm pure poison flowing in your veins,
a disaster functioning on self-hatred and novacane,
but you're wild violet and champagne in a sweet kiss,
desperate to be inundated into my abyss.
idk what is this
 Feb 2018 mary j
Dencio
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
 Feb 2018 mary j
alexa
you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.
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