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Kewayne Wadley Oct 2018
This isn't a love that can be
Put on speaker phone.
We're far too silly for that.
Easily saying the first thing that
Comes to mind.
One moment to the next,
Stunned slience.
Phone etiquette thrown out the window.
This isn't a love that can be sat down.
Kept between an ear and a shoulder.
The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room.
Conducted in civil manner.
Attempting not to shout,
Completely losing train of thought.
Not sure of validation,
Our voices raise a bit.
By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that.
Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are.
Our quirks, general weirdness.
The crazy looks from those around.
The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes.
By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy.
Often appearing in person,
Before one of us can hang up.
Laughing hysterically,
Continuing the conversation
At any given time or place.
This definately isn't a love that
Can be placed on speaker phone
If we have to applogize for what we say.
Afraid to be who we really are.
Isolated from who we truly are
Elizabeth Brown Nov 2018
This screen, bright with frustration, draws-
with careful precision-
the shape of your face.
It must grow tired, as I do,
of creating this image.
How can I know that you are real
when I have never touched your face?
Bitterness for a system long corrupt grows within me.
I am full to bursting with love and fury.

These complications breed more dissatisfaction.
Afraid of travel, afraid of people.
Stuck in a seemingly unending loop of legality
for crimes forgiven long ago.
How many moons more must I wait
to hold your hand in mine?
Eight years.

Long, empty time laughs cruelly at our labors
as we struggle to hold together a friendship
(now a bloomed and wilting relationship)
that we once held above all else.
My love for you is unending, a thing of faerie tale,
but I find my patience lacking.
I have waited and I have yearned for you.
I have tried, to no avail, to leave you behind me-
instead, I was greeted with the haunting realization that
nothing compares to you.
No man, no woman, no circle of peers,
can provide for me the things you offer.
I know you feel the same,
though a mix of dread and delusion prevent you from showing me
in the way I need so desperately to be shown.
I know that you, too, feel this pain.

Seamless, ceaseless pixels bring me your countenance,
now weathered with sadness and age.
Once upon a time, I thanked them.
Now, I throw curse upon curse;
hurling all my animosity at those things that carry you to me
in the only form I've ever known.
"I've been living so long with my pictures of you that
I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel."

If I cannot feel your hand, cold in mine-
If I can't smell your hair
or feel your chest drenched with those happy tears of
At Last!,
do you really exist at all?
Mercilessly, cruelly, are we brought before our judge,
The Test of Time.
Eight years; is it wasted?
Wrote this Oct 10, 2018. Computer crashed and I thought I'd lost it. Here ya go, I guess. Sorry not sorry for the pop culture references. These things are a part of who we are, and I bring my soul forth to bear.
Kyle Enorio  Aug 2018
connect.
Kyle Enorio Aug 2018
a thousand miles in between
yet thoughts like those of twins
in sync, hearts beating
melancholic, yet a delightful feeling
a fool, but glorious king
Elizabeth Brown Nov 2018
Pain disfigures into numbness in the silence that screams at me
like so many crazed thoughts.
A heated state cools into quiet resentment.
Regardless of how I feel, how you do,
this night has changed us irreparably.
How can you say these things are equal?
Where do you get off?
Your half-sung apologies fall heavy on deaf ears.

Can you feel me ignoring you?

You think I let you down?
I needed to do something with my hands.
You
have shown to me
the inconsistency of love.

Nothing is unconditional.
If it were, I wouldn't even be here fighting with you.

Those words, also labile,
were the truth in the moment,
regardless of tomorrow.

I may love you,
but I hated you then.
larni Oct 2018
you are across the deep blue ocean,
over six thousand kilometres away,
waiting until we meet again,
eight hundred and thirty-six days.

will you wait?
i can only pray,
that when we unite,
you’ll want me to stay.

‘age’. okay.
does it truly matter to you?
don’t listen to their opinions,
you know we’ll get through.

ten lonesome days
since i last kissed your lips,
drooling and craving,
pulling me in by the hips.

the smell of sweet cigarettes,
placing my hair behind my ear,
soft kisses down the neck,
where do we go from here?

only in my dreams,
all of this is true,
eight hundred and thirty-six days,
until i can be with you.
so yeah. i'm in love with a man who lives across the world.... waiting until i can see him again. in two and a half years time... <3
Niharika Nov 2018
” The freshness is gone the interest is lost
   We portray love just for facebook post.
  The madness decreases, the excitement reduces
  Laden with chore our love ceases
  The sparkle fades and then
   We see the darker shades
  Eating together,sleeping together
  Still isn’t there a silent war???
  This is the person I still adore
  But somewhere deep I feel
  “We don’t talk anymore???”
And here to describe our current situation in the relation I penned down a few words:
We stay miles apart
And you ask if it doesn’t hurt
The agony of missing
The excitement of meeting
Feeling ambivalent
But that’s how it was meant..
The freshness, the madness
The smiles on our face
The gifts the surprises
And our love never ceases
We understand the worth
Only when we are away
And then we look forth
For every passing day..
I cannot see your face
I cannot hear your voice
Then the phone rings
And our hearts make this noise
We tease each other
About having an another,
Enchants of our past
Mysteries of the future
We never fail to pour our emotion
And that’s when we feel we had “The Conversation”
We are thousands of strides apart,
so then tell me
how I can feel you hugging me from behind while I shop at rest stops,
your chin barely resting on my shoulder.
We are separated by a dozen states,
yet
I can still hear your laughter swimming through my ears every time I make a joke only we would understand.
Half a country divides us,
but, even now,
I still hear your gasps when my hands wander across the hills and valleys of your frame.

— The End —