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Robin Dunlop Nov 2016
We are all born,
With just a limited amount.
We never know how much,
We have to give out.

We pray for it to hurry,
When we're young and still learning.
Then we pray for it to slow,
When we're older and now yearning.

We know that it's so very precious,
Because we sell it to the highest bidder.
But what about its true value?
That's what we rarely consider.

This gift we've been given,
It was meant to be shared.
For we cannot make more,
And what's left can't be spared.

It is a currency,
We all spend at the same rate.
But it is also purchased,
Unrefundable, with no discount or rebate.

But what really is most important,
Is to whom we give it for free.
That, my friend, is priceless,
So thank you for spending it with me.
  Oct 2016 Robin Dunlop
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
Robin Dunlop Oct 2016
Today you hung low in the sky,
And you reminded me of me.
With a thin, shadowy veil,
And only a sliver to be seen.

You seemed to reach for Jupiter,
The same way I reach for my dreams.
You stretched across the morning,
Hopelessly, it seemed.

Oh, last quarter crescent,
We are so very much the same.
We hide our many intricate details,
Revealing little more than our name.

You hung your head low in the sky,
With the sun glowing from your seams.
Today, you reminded me of me,
The morning of ten twenty-eight sixteen.
Robin Dunlop Oct 2016
Intoxicated by desire,
We got drunk on each other,
Under the influence of the moon.
With each look we got higher,
Drinking it up, one after another,
And neither of us were immune.

You took me back to your place,
And let me get a little taste,
Of wine as sweet as dew.
Hand in hand, face to face,
Not a drop of wine went to waste,
And that wine, my dear, was you.
Robin Dunlop Oct 2016
Memories....
Memories which I cannot seem
To put into chronological order.
As if someone took the movie reel,
Cut it into pieces,
and randomly put it together again.

Broken memories yet treasured.
They are all I have left.
This puzzle spread across the floor of my heart,
That I simply can't assemble.

9 years of shuffling these pieces,
and sometimes I think I've lost some of them,
Causing my heart to break even more,
As a treasured, priceless piece of me drifts away....
Just like he did....

Like smoke in the wind....
You watch it go but can't possibly catch it,
No matter how hard you try.
Breathe, Robin....
Just breathe.
For my son born into this world 5/18/07 @ 10:12 am and born into heaven @ 11:22 am. The best and worst 70 minutes of my life.
Robin Dunlop Oct 2016
This morning I watched a sunrise
and you were right beside me
but hundreds of miles away,
Will you stop kidnapping my thoughts?
All you have to do is ask
and I'll gladly give them away.

You're such a thief of my dreams.
Reaching out and taking
Something that's already free.
All I ask is that you keep on reaching
And I'll hand it all over to you...
Every broken piece of me.

Here's a thought for you to steal,
Let's fog up the windows,
Pretend like we're seventeen.
The only difference now is,
We both have years of experience
And tricks up our sleeves.
Robin Dunlop Oct 2016
If every raindrop tonight
Were felt upon my skin,
It wouldn't be comparable
To your hands on me again.

I wish these raindrops were kisses,
Trailing down my neck.
Innumerable affections,
Peck by countless peck.
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