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Scarlett Riel Dec 2017
He asked me to write a poem about our
“Oh honey, all I can write is a tragedy”
Scarlett Riel Dec 2017
Time spent with you
like a novel, each day a new page
Memories linger on past lines
I re-read them when I think of you

Some parts make me laugh out loud
Others, I blush and grin
I stop and think of what could of been
if you weren’t  so far away....

But that doesn’t matter
This book keeps
unfolding’s unfinished and I want to keep it that way

I won’t let distance break it’s binding
I won’t let it’s pages fall apart, the same ones I fought so hard to keep
I don’t want “us” to become just another book on my self where I’ve reached the final chapter.

But our love becomes stronger
This novel of ours becomes longer
So there’s no pretending....
I hope this book is never-ending
It’s Christmas time and I’m constantly thinking of my far-away love...
Scarlett Riel Dec 2015
I got my room painted today; my old walls were scarred, chipped,   worn...memories
But the past is in the past, the paint has already  dried. So why can't I forget? Why can I still hear them, the memories echoing through the room like restless spirits.
I just have one question, if I peeled back a coat or two, would the scars beam with pride? And would the walls still bear the scars proudly?

I guess a new coat will be good.... still underneath the glaze of perfection, the scars are still hiding and the walls are still whispering...
Yet I will remember,
just musing about my freshly painted room..:)
Scarlett Riel Sep 2015
Mother always said that the beautiful ones were the most broken
But maybe the broken ones are the most beautiful..
if only
the heart was made of
elastic materials
then just maybe
it will only bend

  Sep 2015 Scarlett Riel
He told me my scars weren't beautiful
And I told him that no one could ever really admire a masterpiece
Without taking a few steps back
Your scars make you who you are and no matter what you are beautiful
  Sep 2015 Scarlett Riel
I was walking down the sidewalks one day
with a euphoric smile on my face.
I look up
I look down
I look left and right.


And I wondered-
Where are all the people who
reached to the stars
letting their minds loose to
the far ends of the galaxies

Where are all the people who
sang with their hearts
letting their body dance to
the songs of their inner-self

Where are all the people who
sailed the seas of life
conquering storm after storm to
get to the land of hope


Because all I see ---

Are people who
have their heads hung low
with their hands reaching
towards the ground

all I see

are people who have lost
the muchness in their eyes
their eyes open,
but not seeing.

Here they are.

not looking
not reaching
not dancing
not sailing

Not Living!

These people
Walking on the sidewalks
With their pace picking up speed

faster and faster
as if they were running.

I say,
Slow down!

Stop not seeing
Life for what it is!
full of wonders and wanderers!

Stop not looking
For hope, and for joy!
Because if we keep looking
Only then would we discover.

Stop not reaching
For greater heights!
Because there are still more stars
to hold.

Stop not dancing
for if you listen closely
you would hear the sounds of life
making music for what it is.

Stop not sailing
Because across the vast ocean of life
There maybe storms, and tsunamis
but at the end might we find the land of treasures

Stop not Living!
because there is nothing more unfortunate
than to see a man who lives life in death.
Wrote this awhile back for my fellow commuters. There is more to this than I was able to write, but I hope (Whoever is reading this) this poem will give you guys a different kind of perspective.
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