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Should I love clouds?
But they prevent me
From seeing the sun

I wonder how it'd feel like
To put my hands out
And touch one

Are they soft as cotton candy?
Birds love to dance in them
Or do they disappear at touch?
And fade into thin air?

I wonder what they see
When they look down at me
A heart of opal black
So pale compared to them
I wonder if they mock me
But what right do they have?
They travel on a journey
Of transient tragedy

And since I started writing
The clouds have moved along
They're indistinguishable from each other
Was this the one I saw?

The day is quickly fading
The clouds are not as glowing
The moon waxing and waning
The firmaments fade to black

But what about the sun?
For all its splendour is worth
By day the clouds conceal it
By night it's somewhere else

So, should I love clouds?
But they prevent me
From seeing the sun
 Nov 2013 Samantha Derr
AJ
Pizda
 Nov 2013 Samantha Derr
AJ
I drink coffee at Starbucks.
Not because I'm pretentious.
I mean
I am pretentious.
But that is not why I drink Starbucks.
Amazing mathematical concepts
Are just swirling around in my head.
I have to clean.
I have to shower.
I have to do the dishes.
I have to wash my clothes.

Jeszcze ci kutasa w kawałeczki potnę, wiesz, tak jak rzeźnik robi, i ci je do drzwi przybije.

Translate that. It will make you laugh. I promise.
"CONDEMNED" screams the offensive yellow tape
wrapped around my door like a furious snake.
I'm a crumbling abandoned city apartment
and the letters of your name can be found carved into my scattered bricks.

The memories we shared were sweet,
but you've moved on now. To a newer part of town,
all gaudy gold and glowing neon and soulless silver.

Even though you're hypnotized by its fraudulent shine
I wonder whether you remember
the love and mortar that once held us together.

For these walls still stand tall
through countless stormy nights, scorching days and freezing evenings.
But I don't know how much longer I can last.

Because my very foundations were made with your smile in mind,
and they are sinking into the mire now that we are forced to stand alone.

But what need to you have for such antiquated architecture?
I have been replaced. Your new home is far prettier.
More efficient.

Even still, I hang on by crossbeams and rotting wooden studs
and hope that you will find your way back
to the home I forged for you here in my arms.

I rot and moulder in solitude
the memories that echo in my hallowed halls the only comforts that keep me from collapse.

Far too proud to admit, though I'm sure
you see the bitterness of your absence
eating away at me like termites.

The lord only knows how I'd like to feel your feet
upon my wooden floors again,
but who am I to even dare to ask?

For now I am just a broken house
no longer a home
vacant
and alone
patiently waiting to be made whole again.
This is a collaborative poem written by myself and Berry(http://hellopoetry.com/-berry/).

— The End —