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Every moment of a
sunset is pleasingly
different, as is my
love for only You

Every moment of life
which passes by, are
full of seconds of
change its true

But unlike some things
which could possibly
change from better into
something worse

His love will never
lose it value but
will steadily grow
in its priceless worth

For even if it changes
each day, the tender
warmth of His love
remains the same

And because He cares for
every one of us, it will
cleanse many hearts of
their pain

The strength of His
love lies in spiritual
power, a holy essence
which will never fade

His love is powerful
in its nature, which when
received in our hearts
will always stay

...for He is eternal love.
A poem for God
Everything hurts.
My every syllable is a sin and I cannot confess to the kind stranger in the church because he has never had the devil wage war inside him, God has laid a path for him with roses and gold whilst I trekked through forests and marshes hacking and slashing at every demon that snarled and bared its teeth at me. I left with bleeding wounds from myself, or was it the beasts? it doesn't matter, we are one in the same now.
So you see, that nice priest in this holy house has nothing to say, with all his bread and wine, because my demons whisper louder than he screams, and God and all his angels lay silent and hidden as I succumbed to the devil's velvet tortures. I live in a hell of my own creation and no muse nor divinity can save me now.
They say we need things
like calcium and sunshine;
I think I'd survive

without all that stuff.
Though I may wither away
without pretty words.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2014
I just want someone to care.
To notice, when I'm not there.
To stay by my side.
To let me cry.
I don't want to be judged.
I just want to be loved.
I don't care how far,
I don't care if you've receded,
I just want to know
that I am needed.
It's not creepy.
Certainly not.
It's just odd,
to read what's been thought.
I love the imaginary,
who exists.
I love the birds,
and bees.
I love the sky,
and seas.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
Thinking about it,
I've come to notice.
You help me even now.
Because I don't know who you are,
I spend so much time thinking,
wondering,
contemplating elatedly,
to the point I don't even think,
about..
the world anymore.

All I care about it this beautiful,
wondrous,
ponderous,
distraction of mine.
And this image in my mind,
it may not be you,
but I may know some day.
This love is true.
This love is so much.
I don't even know what to do.
This love of mine,
I await.
I will wait.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
The world will pass me by,
and in the end..
I will have you,
and hold your hand.
The collected dust,
will tell a story.
True love does exists. You just have to be patient.
 Apr 2014 Sierra Jade Brown
JC
The tips of our fingers
          can barely meet
But I am only real
          and she is made of shadow

It’s a long way
          to reach out and touch her lips
The feather of her breath
          enough to make the candle flicker

There are dreams behind her eyelids
          that I have no chance of hearing
My hand lands on an empty pillow
          where the tips of our lives
          just barely met
Can you run,
Your softened fingers,
Along the outskirts,
Of my brittle bones.

Push them down,
Until they jut out,
And pierce through,
My cracking skin.

Can you hold,
My head under,
The murky depts,
Of darkened water.

Sew my bleeding,
Lips together,
And make sure,
I cannot breathe.
Why* does the sun radiate so brightly?
So it can seem half as beautiful as you.

Why do the birds sing so loud?
So they can sound half as joyful as you.

Why do the stars shine so bright?
So they can illuminate your beauty for me to see.

Why do the flowers smell so sweet?
So they can express the feeling we share.

Why do your eyes consist of more than one colour?
Because they are sunflowers that brighten up my day.
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