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 Mar 2014 samantha neal
Ivy Rose
Or
 Mar 2014 samantha neal
Ivy Rose
Or
I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"


When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)
Please don't do this.
I. Can't. Lose. You.
A flawless red curve of
Seductive lips
Your bold tongue
On the cusp of mine
I savor your words
Reckless declarations
Breathed down my throat
Slashing my soul
A wound that won’t heal
Exposed to the memory of
*******
Memories that make it my ruin
The way you wrenched my heart
Racked my mind
Molested my soul
The desolation you left me with
When you were done

I look for Pink
To comfort and inspire
My emotional essence
You will see if you
Look into my eyes.
So dark, so very dark
but I hear a voice
and I can feel a breeze
but I don't know where I am
all I know is that I'm alone surrounded by people

I can hear people calling my name
Since I lost my sight nothing is the same

I didn't just lose my vision, I lost so much more
My independence
my job
my confidence
my self-esteem
I will never get to live my childhood dream

It's hard to only see one color for the rest of time
BLACK
no color, just
BLACK
Someone very close to me
 Mar 2014 samantha neal
i
untitled
 Mar 2014 samantha neal
i
there is nothing prettier
than a city at 5 am
with its empty streets and
cold wind.
all rights go to d.c.
 Mar 2014 samantha neal
Natasha
the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.
thoughts.
Disoriented:
not knowing where I am
Who I am
What I am
Doing.

I die momentarily
When the monster grip
my soul
Out of this hollow frame;
The body.

They say: "time will tell"
I know not
of the time
now.

Inability to differentiate
Dreams
And reality,
I lie between
The blurred line.
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