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raw with love  May 2014
polyglot
raw with love May 2014
I know how to say
"I love you" in
English and French,
and Spanish and Italian,
and Russian and Bulgarian,
and Arabic and Dothraki
and High Valyrian,
and Klingon,
and in any other language
you ask,
I know how to
write "I love you"
in Gallifreyan and
Tengwar,
I know how to make up
a billion different poems
about my love for you.

But still, it won't make you
love me back. I somehow
was never enough for you.
You keep me awake every night
wondering why you left
and I think it's high time
I started looking up
how to say "I don't hate you",
"I've moved on", "I don't miss you"
and "I am okay" in all these
languages in which
"I love you" didn't matter.
K  Jul 2013
Away To Gallifrey
K Jul 2013
There is a lonely man in a big blue box

He says that he hates goodbyes.

Most people are disbelieving, they scoff:

They think that he outright lies.

Others sometimes wonder:

What past events underlie

To make this one Time Lord dislike goodbyes?

He's always alone, this man.

His companions are long gone.

Every time he says hello,

Every time he crashes into a lawn,

Every time he helps or saves,

Every time he meets someone:

There's always a goodbye.

He had a family, all the same.

Yet they are gone now.

He had his Gallifreyan friends

With whom he would play games.

He had his whole planet with its orange skies

But it went up in equally orange flames.

There's always a goodbye.

Some of his companions are still around.

That could be enough for him to smile.

For him to grin wide and say, "Yay!"

But then he remembers that others are lost.

How many people, he couldn't say.

So when this Time Lord dreams

He thinks of a wonderful, happy day.

In which all his friends are here to stay:

And he can still "vworp" away to Gallifrey.

— The End —