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  Feb 2015 rosie
M
and somehow you kicked all my walls in
I am foolishly completely falling
I know how it goes for day and night
never together, for they see things in a different light
there's always room for common ground
riding on a wind and I can't give up
I think I'm gonna win this time
it's taking it's taking all I've got
I'm like a boat on the water
you're the raise on the waves that calms my mind
and I can't see two feet in front of me
only half a blue sky, kind of there but not quite
I'm walking round with just one shoe
I'm half a heart without you
half a man at best- with half an arrow in my chest
tell me with your mind, body, and spirit
but do you really wanna be alone?
made of a bunch of lyrics that I did not write
rosie Feb 2015
my tongue is made
of olive vines,
wrapping itself around words
I am unable to describe.

pores made of gold
kingdoms under your rule;
finding life in the stars,
while I still need a stepping stool.



Copyright ©  2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
it's not easy believing that you're better off without me and frankly I wish I could say the same
  Feb 2015 rosie
SøułSurvivør
~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!



SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015
~~♥~~
  Feb 2015 rosie
Thomas Carew
Ask me why I send you here
The firstling of the infant year;
Ask me why I send to you
This primrose all bepearled with dew:
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are washed with tears.
Ask me why this flower doth show
So yellow, green, and sickly too;
Ask me why the stalk is weak
And bending, yet it doth not break:
I must tell you, these discover
What doubts and fears are in a lover.
rosie Feb 2015
aromas
of fresh linen, and
your buttermilk skin
pull me aside
from my late-night talk with the moon;
she needs her sleep,
you say;
and it's time for breakfast.



Copyright ©  2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
maybe part of me is still waiting for mornings to arive because it was your favorite time of day
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