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Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
I’ve just recently learned to stand.
Before, there were hands beneath my feet.
Ideas flowing in my head,
From a different mind.

I spoke, as I had been trained.
I loved the way I was told.
I cried when I didn’t understand.
To please every demand.

But broken, are feet without their bones.
But quiet, is a mouth without words.
But numb, is a mind without thoughts.

And a heart without its body,
Is never really beating.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
It’s as if the stars were only fireflies,
The moon hung by a string,
And the sun flickered,
As a burning candle.

Before I met you.

And now the world is bright,
And the light is tangible.
I can taste it in my mouth,
When you kiss me.

My whole world is aglow.

Since I met you.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
It’s the essence of a moment.
A chapter in your life becomes minimized to a mere, few pictures of it.

And then just snapshots.
A whole year, in one blurry mind shot.
And then it’s gone.

Wrapped up with the rest in yesterdays,
Saved for a dull occasion or a sentimental moment.

A moment in time.
That’s all these are.
Each fleeting day.

What moment do you see the most?
And why is it that your mind-
won’t let it go.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
There’s no such thing as triangles,
Or circles,
Or squares.
It’s a straight line,
Straight ahead you can stare.

There’s no backwards or sideways,
There’s no sudden curves.
There’s only then and now,
And heart and nerves.

So take a step. Then take two.
And watch as the line moves forward.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
Floral sheets spread tight over the bed.
Raindrops singing, falling on your head.
Tall shady trees breaking up the light.
Small crystals falling, such a pretty sight.

And it’s just you and me,
And the breeze from the sea.

And it’s just books and tea,
And serendipity.

And it’s all making sense.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
I’m painting you a million colors.
But none of them will stick.
They drip and drop,
From the canvas to the floor.

Without a face, without a name,
Who are you?
You’re mine.

But I’ll sit here colorblind,
And wait for you to come.
Rose Amberlyn Jan 2019
8
A bump.
A lump.
Swallow.

You’re never prepared for life.
But this was ready for me.
I have to remind myself to breathe.
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