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How
do
I
let go
of something
I
never
even had?
I lied this actually has 11 words hehe
 Apr 2014 Sofia Paderes
J
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
of a certain end.

The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
 Apr 2014 Sofia Paderes
Miriam
if I will learn best to heed Your presence through the pain,
then keep me in this hell

God, I swear, I don’t care

I need You like crazy and I know that too well,
but some parts of my heart are dead—
no, I think most of them

I’ve brutally damaged the rest
through this pain that I’ve found
in the emptiness of my chest
and I don’t know what to do now;
I am drowning and I need You so bad,
but something in me still keeps fighting You away,
pushing Your hand.

And Your whisper keeps being diminished
by this shouting voice in my head
saying I don’t need You.
But God, I do.

And it hurts
because I’m listening to the screaming voice in my head
saying over and over again that I’m just fine here on my own,
giving the devil my soul
while I dance on the thin line
between cold and warm.

Father, I’m sorry.
Mostly for all the times that I weren’t,
and because I know exactly what I do.

I can see the image of the hammer in my hands again
with Your blood gushing through Your cracked skin
as You hang upon that cross,
the place where You died for my sin.
My shame is thick and maybe so is my pride
because I’m turning away,
turning away from the light of Your bright eyes
and I’m sick of this.

When will the cycle ever end?

God, I love You but the pain in my chest—

And then, just as fog lifts ever so slightly
over a city to reveal the sun again,
You remove the fear I installed inside of my heart.
The voices that speak lies over me are dead.

I awake to the sound of Your voice
and You’re singing over me after all I’ve done.

(After all I’ve done, God, how You still love me after all I’ve done)

You said You saw me there as You hung upon the cross—
limp and ****** and carrying a darkness thicker
than the worst pain we all have ever tasted in this world.

You said You saw me at my worst—
You said You saw me cursing Your Name while I slept on dirt.

You saw me at my worst.

And what’s most amazing is
You saw the blasphemous lies I’ve believed,
I’ve breathed,
I’ve eaten up,
and lived,
and You still died for me on that cross.

Grace.

You saw me at my worst.

And I know I ***** up and fall down
and sometimes I want to stay on this ground
but You tell me You’re here
and that it was still Your joy to die for me
so I could live in Your glory
and it is Your joy to forgive me.

You saw my filthy soul and You still desired to die for me.

How sick,
how twisted,
how disgusting this world has made me feel;

I’ve cheated myself with these fleeting pleasures of sin,
but now You’re here.
You are here and I am made for You,
to live in Your love,
to dance to the sound of Your song,
to dwell in Your presence forever.

You accept me,
You don’t cast me out.
You forgive—leading me to the road of repentance.
I thought it would be dark and heavy
but with my soul paid in full
it isn’t hard to say no to this world.

The enemy has tried to steal my soul,
but the Light of Christ is leading me
to the truth that I’ve come to know.
And I’m knowing it again,
over and over and over again—

Let me, then, leave my heart in Your hands,
and let it stay there.
And if keeping me in this hell will draw me closer to You,
then I will take it and gladly so,
for I’ve tasted the emptiness of this world and Your discipline may hurt—

But God, everything else is worse.

Break me, I beg You, break me until I am whole.
 Apr 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
Latin purifies.

And so do the other languages
That ring foreign to my ears.

And prayers sound lovelier
When they are honest.

When honestly,
There is nothing to be understood—
No silent covenant.

When "God"
Is but an uppercase letter
Uttered with the utmost clarity.

Or if not,
With the utmost sanctity.
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