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i Apr 2014
purple*  *lips,
numb from the cold,
and not even the warmest lips,
can make the color come back.
purple  eye,
somebody had hit it,
and not even the thickest
layer of make up,
can cover it.
purple  fingers,
no blood running
through them,
and not even the rope
that has been holding her fingers,
can make the blood flow
through her fingers, again.
i Apr 2014
she's a sucker for love,
and she can't get enough.
i Apr 2014
if you get home tonight,
you will find three cassettes
on the table in our living room,
where we shared kisses and
drank coffee.
on the first cassette that will be
next to the full cup of cold coffee,
it will be written "cassette for when
you're happy",
which i hardly believe you
will play it.
the second cassette will be on
top of a letter i have written
only for you, with a small
amount of dry tears on the paper,
and it will say "cassette for when
you're sad", and perhaps this
will be the most played one.
around the final cassette
will be nothing, the cassette will
be alone, just like us,
and it will say "cassette for when
you feel nothing", and be careful,
my darling, because i know
you're often numb, just like me.
and perhaps, you might get lost
in this cassette,
just like i was in you.
that is why i am leaving now,
i am lost, my darling,
and i need to find the right path,
the light, which in this case,
is not you.
*you are not my right path,
you are not my light,
and i am not your right path,
i am not your light,
but you still love me,
and i still love you,
even though i am leaving,
and never coming back
i Apr 2014
time is running out,
and you have no
stop watch to
stop it.
i Apr 2014
on my couch,
alone again,
with a cup of tea in
my ****** hands
and a book next to me,
whose pages are missing.
the pleasingly bitter taste
hits my tongue and
i am re-born again.
this poem is just how tea calms you and you feel like a new person after drinking it. at least that's how i feel.
i Apr 2014
i found
old cassettes
of my bitter past,
and twisted childhood
under my broken bed.
i couldn't stop those
unwanted memories that
flooded through my mind,
images and flashes
of blood,
and screaming echoes.
i Apr 2014
you would think
a ferris wheel is fun.

you would think
a ferris wheel is romantic.

you would think
a ferris wheel is scary.

but you should know
a ferris wheel is plain stupid.

because it is just a huge wheel,
that spins round and round,
not making a difference.
this poem is plain stupid,
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