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 Apr 2014 raw with love
J
Together.
 Apr 2014 raw with love
J
You are never together, you are simply alone with somebody else.
 Apr 2014 raw with love
J
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Tulips are yellow
Leaves are green
My body resembles
An expensive flower bouquet
Bruises swell
Blood collects
But my lips are sealed
Want it to end
At all costs
I'd have no regrets
A new flower is laid upon me
When I do or say something wrong
Too bad they’re
Are always so carefully placed
Almost as if to hide them
From everyone
Leaves, tulips, and violets
Are artfully arranged
On my legs, on my chest,
On my back, and on my neck
I'm wrong he's right
No use putting up a fight
I'm terrified that if I do try to fight once more
Real flowers will be laid on my grave instead of my skin
Where I will rest forevermore.
 Apr 2014 raw with love
J
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
Don't say it's okay
Don't say it's fine
I drag
the heart
you tore apart
into a straight line
Personal space bled
Alone in a crowded room
You are everything
You stab me in the back with a knife,
and I apologize for bleeding on it.
When are you coming back?
Forever haunted by the words you say.
Forever haunted since you've gone away.
 Apr 2014 raw with love
Christina
We were made to roam every corner of this earth, to become nomads whose homes are inside each other.

Our hearts are too curious to be kept in this cage made of bones.
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