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I want to be loved for one night,
then I shall be content in isolation,
comfortable in the lack of weight
on the other side of the bed.

One night, to be kissed brand-new
by foreign lips; a familiar fear
as she leaves her dress on the chair,
and our inhibitions on the floor.

Absence of physical touch, heard words;
no tangible proof I exist, or should exist
at all. I miss the fatigue. Brief sensation,
some energy - our collective heat;

the way we sweat beneath the sheets.
The way you need to call out to me.
I have not heard my name in weeks.

I want to be loved for one night,
then I can return to pollute these pages
with something beyond conjecture,
something worth holding on to.
Another 10 minute poem. Will sit down properly at some point soon hopefully.
You tell me to get a grip
but I have got nothing
to hold on to.
C
Oh Blythe, you were always in the wrong,
you lived your life as a sad, sad song.
They say addiction starts and always ends in pain,
great Sisyphus, heaving the boulder again.

We're hooked on all our broken dreams,
suspicious of love like it's a pyramid scheme.

Oh Blythe, the world couldn't compete with your mind,
I talked to you, but it was the blind leading the blind.
When you took your life I had almost took mine,
feeling the pain, even once I've left it behind.

They found you in a sorry, sorry state,
oh, I know how it feels to always be afraid.

Oh Blythe, I know I shouldn't call you my friend,
and I can't pretend to know what drove you round the bend,

I won't preach colour into your world of grey,
and I can't say that "you just have to be brave"
but we're more than these words,
more than a pattern of breath.
You were bursting with life
despite your eventual death.

Oh, where did you go,
my ghost in the snow?
Oh, where did you go,
my dear ghost in the snow.

I've been looking for a place where I can lay in the rain,
it'll be a while, my friend, before I see you once again,
I hope I don't see your face again.
Wherever you are, I hope you don't have to pretend.

Where did you go,
where did you go,
my ghost in the snow.
This is a song I wrote: https://soundcloud.com/edwardcoles/blythe

Because it's a song, I know it doesn't necessarily read as well.
It's about a distant friend of mine who committed suicide a fortnight after I had tried to do the same thing.

C
Let's defy gravity, baby.

Let's defy that *****
until her forceful hands shake us
back to reality.

We'll rise above this dreary world
and play leap frog among the stars.

We'll smoke one with the moon
while he
spills secrets about the Sun.

We'll get drunk off faith
and throw a prayer or two up ahead
for the Man Upstairs.

When the magic fades,
We'll hold one another as the law comes back into effect
and we slowly drift through the clouds
claiming lazily
that the moon prefers Southern Comfort.
1.16.14
You gave your love to the government.
Your liver to the greyhounds
and the squalor you live in.

The Asian district disappoints you
with its inaccessible women
to whom you are flaccid and unlovable.

The pub is full of students,
air humid with *** and youth-
all those impossible frames of reference.

You, proud emblem, are confused by it all.
The drawl of the six o'clock news:
“there is a war at your own front door.”

The Golden Age was taken for granted,
a party spoiled by strangers,
strange music, strange clothes;

the symbols you cannot understand.
Tradition fades to dementia, greyscale,
redundant colour, and jaded patriotism;

you raise the mourning flag alone.
A country died in your lifetime,
your romanticised vision of home.
C
I know who calls you by your name
I know why you have fallen in shame
Always you have been more
You are the child reborn

A friend you have been to me
The friend you will always be
Believe the truth in me
The truth the blind can see

My words weigh like stone
Resting gently in sole
I am the love that loves all
Healing the wounds that make us fall

Trust in me, that it can be
Come with me, you are free
Rid yourself of uncertainty
My old friend listen to me

I feel the pain of all
So that I might know where you fall
Not one of us can be alone
I can never let you go

I am the one who knows your name
The one who will never be ashamed
Come with me, put your faith in me
We were always meant to be
Once again like the robin who dreams of being an eagle, to fly proud and fearless, too busy with dreams to fly with them.
Like the seedlings are to the trees, too eager to see the end of their beautiful beginning.
Like the father that abandons his family on a Monday afternoon too afraid to fail to even try.

I'm sorry like when a best friend says after your mother dies.
I'm sorry like a child who brakes the priceless arlum.
I'm sorry like I am to you.

I repent like I'm told in church to do.
I beg like the man I walked past in the city.
I try not to cry like the soldier who kills for the first time.

Im in love with you.

I did not always see, but I'm in love with you.

Like the love I see in your parents.
Like the love you have for Christmas.
Like the love of any grandparent. I love you.

Don't give up on me
God's gift to man is our ability for free will, he never intended free to be so cruel

I know I should try to think of hope, quite difficult, when nearly everything falls short

I think about which I can live without, time and again you always end up missing out

Sometimes I think I'll choose,
most of the time I don't.

To do something or not,
Free will will keep me from rot

life is what you live without.

Sleepless nights of endless doubt. Ramped possibilities, our will to not live without

Losing, lost, love, always ends with a loss, if free will were my choice

I'd rid myself of it

I most definitely sometimes we choose this choice
 Jan 2015 rained-on parade
MP
winter
 Jan 2015 rained-on parade
MP
I think I loved you most the winter your heating was broken
And we’d stay inside all morning
Pretending to complain that we couldn’t get out of bed
Our clothes becoming little islands on the floor,
Ones that we could not quite find the courage to visit

Your hand stayed glued to my hip,
Your breath warming my shoulder
Like a long drag of whiskey
That kind that had a home so far away,
In a glass bottle on top of your refrigerator.
The one that would not be opened
Until that fateful day in February,
When everything went wrong

And on that unbearable night
When you joked that you’d freeze to death if I left you
There was a long silence
Like it might be true.

Now it’s warm enough
That I show too much skin when sitting in bars
And you avoid me like the plague,
Whispering in any girl’s ear that’s near to you
Every time you see me watching out of the corner of your eye

We should have stayed inside when the ice began to melt
Because I think
When those doors opened and we finally ventured outside
The world had changed,
And so had you and I.
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