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in the silence
of night….when I’m all alone,
I can hear whispers
calling from home.

every “I Love You”
that has ever been said,
fills my heart with light
through my soul, it spreads.

Wrapping me in peaceful love
holding me gently, but tight,
letting me always know
I’m never alone through the night.

in the silence
of night…..when I’m all alone,
I can hear whispers of love
calling to me, from home.
~
it is few that seek for color,
when the world leaves them grey.

it is few that climb mountains,
when only plains come their way.
I can write the loneliest lines
Because I feel them in my bones

The whirr of machinery a dull noise in me
A reminder of my situation as
I sit and face a placid screen

And each key that is pressed is a hammer fall to my center
Reminding me of the lack of
Meaningfulness in my mind

I can write lines
Like
The wind chills my heart further as I exist in silence with the night
Because I realize then

That the empty is made more so by the lack of you
And so I sit and write as if this were a conversation

I sit and I write as if I’m not dreaming
But that's the irony
Dreams and stardust are all that I live for

For in the solitude I dream of companionship
For in the void I dream of being filled

For in the loneliness, in the night and in the silence
I dream of you and you alone
Anybody who's ever read Neruda will know his heavy influence in this poem
Mostly on the phrase "I can write....."
Also another poem about a certain girl I can't help but long for
 Nov 2017 Samantha Babe
Xyns
Why does every poem published feel risky?
Why does it cause me such a hard time?
I think "What am I even doing?"
And "Am I wasting my time?"

Is it recognition that I'm seeking?
Or is there something else I'm trying to find?

And just what is wrong with me?
Is this a talent, obsession, or is it an affliction?

If you could only see the way i scribble addictively..
I wouldn't be shocked if you staged an intervention.
Am I a poet or am I losing my sanity?
And could all my hopes be founded in fiction?

Still, my goal isn't nearly defined.
My mental organization could be improved..
I write as much as a nut case of some kind.
Is it in my best interest for my pen to be removed?

Patterns and stanzas keep me shallowly refined.
I'll ignore the hazard; it's excused.

*No reason to admit defeat because of cold feet.
What doesn't destroy me

make me wanna die

What doesn't **** me

make me wanna suicide

What means everything to me

is the one who's destroying and killing me

What makes me happy

Is the one who's making me cry

The person we love

hurts us

and yet

The people who loves us

is those we hurt

What a cruel world

that makes me think of going to heaven
yeah always...
You leave me with no other
C   H   O   I   C   E
but to get over
you
.
choice
This moment
  Seeing you today

I'll brink back the days
  When you didn't mean
       this much to me

I'll bring it back
               . . .
I'll bring it back
 Oct 2017 Samantha Babe
Tara
Motivation is
Such a pesky little thing
I can't seem to find.
A fitting haiku for a stressful day.
how i wish
one day you'd find
the one.

she - who would
know you
more than you do.
he - who would
care enough
to repair you.
she - who would
know what
this means to you.
he - who would
not be blind,
not be insensitive.
she - who would
see your poetry
and know
it's your heart.

and though
i know bigger
catastrophes deserve
more poems,
that this pathetic
poem is a smoke,
not a cloud.
but i think
it still matters
that you'll
have someone
who will not
close their fists
upon your heart...

...after trusting it with them.

so when you find yours,
find me and tell me
how to find mine.
**** ME UP WORLD just kidding i'm so depressed so here's a depressing poem i hope no one finds my corner of the internet and realize i'm a ******
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