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54% of people in Iceland believe in elves.
When I was in Iceland, my phone broke.
Nobody knows how.
I guess you could say that number is now closer to 55%.

I haven't had a phone now for about a month now.
It's not as though I used it much to begin with,
but it has posed as an inconvenience,
such as not knowing the time.

I had to go out and buy a watch.
Watches always remind me of you.
You would tell me,
"Men judge other men by their watches and shoes."
I always thought this was dumb.
Then I started taking notice of people's watches and shoes.

I always liked your watches best.
My favorite one showed all of the cogs and gears.
It was much more intricate than the one I bought.
Then again, you've always had an eye for details,
Whereas I tend to trip up over the small things.

Now, whenever I check the time,
I think of you.

I may discontinue wearing this watch.
After all, time has always slipped through my fingers,
Among other things.
There's no use fighting the inevitable.  

Instead, I'll simply learn to map the sky.
Invest in a sundial.
Read the moon.
Track the North star.

Watches are only good for those waiting for something to happen.
What does it take to wake and break your shallow ends
into great depths
Must I will the earth to quake or can you simply take suggestions
My reflection of your perception and lack of action leaves me guessing
As sweet nothings lose their charm and fade into a life lesson
There was black coming out slowly over my face

Actual words and sentences
A small picture of a smiley face


I involuntarily grinned back
Adding a black mole
- or was it a dimple?
- to the face



I write the things I am happy for
Because I lack people to be happy for



I think a bit more
And add in names of people I should probably talk to


'I will get around to talking to them eventually,'
I think now.
I hope I still do later.


I write some equations and mathematics reminders
- they make me feel peaceful


The universe calls out it is 4 AM

I hear the birds sing.



It's nearly dawn
- and my eyes smile back.
I was scared that my poetry would suffer as I was lifted from depression but here's to the creative process that can stand anything.

I have heard that "We accept the love we think we deserve," so I am going to try to start accepting love, even in small ways. This is literally a shout-out to all the people who have been leaving positivity everywhere on this site, in my life. I am going to rebuild my strength. That starts with seeing that even in my loneliness, there is joy and even with my joy, there is sadness, and accepting their duality.

Thank you to those people like Ketoma Rose, belleb, wolf spirit, Pradip C, Izshe, Olivia Kent, K Bala, Rai, Nik Bland, Timothy and so so many brilliant poets out there who remind me that there's strength in me still. And woah! I know I am missing out like a wholeeee load more, but that's pretty much all I am going to type in. Just know your sentiments are wholly and fully appreciated and that I go back to read some works and all comments at least once a week or when I'm feeling really low or something.

Also, this does not mean my sad poems go away. They'll still be here by the truck-load but I'll pitch a happy one in from time to time on this stupid long journey I've decided to undertake. Anyway, I hope the poets I mentioned see this or I am going to feel really stupid. Oh well. Sentiment still remains.
sweat runs slithering snake
down neck.
should i
brush
my teeth again?

fridged food i haven’t forgot
chewed up
dental floss
goes between
teeth like
love
trying to         ruin its way in.
what fragments lay in stone and silent wait
for sunrise creeping stealthily through dark
to back-light marbled forms who knew Petrarch
truncated arms which strain to touch and sate
a cold and calculated yearning carved
in everlasting porous rock compressed
as otherworldly beauty barely dressed
they stand exposed and gorgeous, proud yet starved
to feast on passion's fragments etched inside
by sculptors long since sated, fed and dead
who pounded love with hammer, chisel, sweat
from abstract concept into sanctified
emotion pulsing from unbreathing stone;
stories bled from humankind alone
Memory of a literal run through the Louvre.  The second-ex-Mrs. Frye and I did the whole museum in a single day.
You are the most beautiful
Person that has ever existed
Real or otherwise.
lovely
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