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Today I did not cry

My face even wore a smile
Glowless.
Fake.
Tired.
Hurt.
Yet a smile.

Today I did not cry

... but inside I have
Waterfalls.
You showed me the beauty of life,
Sparked the hope in
Forever.

With music, wine and poetry,
You dared me to live
Dared me to sing
Dared me to
write.

I lived.
I sang.
I wrote.

And now I stand without my poet -
Lost in a world of admired beauty.
In a world that only seems
grey.
He brought me flowers.
A strange mix of peonies and
irises.
A mismatch of separate beauties
Who do not quite fit
Together.

They look tired.
Exposed of the raw temperatures
we keep in our
Hearts.
Yet they light up the room,
Making it feel like home.
Making it feel like

him. He made me a bouquet.
And little did I know that a strange set of flowers
Would turn out to be the
reflection of us:

A mismatch of separate beauties, who do not quite fit
Together.
And yet they light up the room.
My bed has never felt
Quite this big
My single room apartment:
A continent.

I can hear your breath from the couch
Sleeping
I can hear the distant tick of your heart, much like the echoes singing of what I've lost.

I stand alone on my island, screaming out
your name at the top of my voice
Only to observe it getting caught by the
Wind.
 May 2017 SG Holter
nivek
time
 May 2017 SG Holter
nivek
I age creaking into the days
young heart as ever fully here

wove my DNA into a summers sky
I live a hidden life from eyes

ageless my soul flies in its imagination
as I play catch up with time

and time is the healer, a provider of answers
a path and destinations fulfilled.
 May 2017 SG Holter
betterdays
this missive of love
scrawled upon the ether
little seeds like mustard or dandelion
spread upon the wind hoping above hope
to find landfall in hearts cracked asunder

this missive of love
humble but true
as love is and always should be
needs love too grow strong and big

it may not be much
but if added to
will compound upon itself
stand tall and become not shy
this missive of love must come
from both you and I
it must not be scared to whisper it's name
to those broken, shattered,
or under great strain

this missive of love, should be
like rain to parched ground
this missive of love should
be able to speak all languages
go all place, be scared not
of religion or races
should not hide it's face
nor be proud, but always,
always allow grace and time
to be it's partners

this missive of love is easy to write of
but the hardest of all to partake of
but it is now needed more and more
by those who have hearts burdened
and torn by the actions of zealots,
maddened and inflamed... men
and women who know not
this missive's name

this missive is my response
to this horror,this shame
this blight upon the world
in varying God's name

so as I sit and watch the sun rise
I send out this missive
to those that suffer
and those that grieve
to those that are so weary
that they wish only to leave
to those who seemingly stand alone
and those whose voices cry into the night
to men and women weeping this night
and to those who see no end to their plight

I send love and forgiveness
the ability to see,
the goodin the world
I send  the ability to  just be...

from this heart full of kindness
I send compassion and grace
I send hope and the stubborness
required to look this world
in it's face and see not the hurt
the grime, the commonplace
but to look beyond and see
the good, the beautiful, the need
for us, to grow the seeds of greatness

this missive of love, is small
and may if ignored
make no difference at all
but if taken in and given space
it may well be a fresh start
a turning of degrees
toward the world as a better place
the ideology is lofty and illogical
but let us try here at the coal face
to change the axis from hate to love
this poem written as a product of the deep thoughts brought to bear by the recent writings of another poet....only love poetry, of whose work I have taken both a small slice shown below and an inordinate amount of strength
I hope they do not mind my gathering of their work ...

"and in a poem, composed only of love,
written with solemn tears decorating the screen,
finger slipping on the warm sad wet,
a kind of scar tissue, a healing, but differentiated,
returning similar, but forever changed, different,
is still something human I can true believe in, no gods necessary" Only Lovepoetry
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