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  Nov 2014 pluie d'été
MysteryBear
There was a girl.
And this girl wore her heart on her sleeve
Everyone saw this and everyone cared.

There was a guy.
And this guy wore his scars on his skin
Everyone saw this but no one cared.

Why would they?
She was beautiful, had a voice that made waking up worth while
He was beautiful too but you couldn't see that through his denials

The girl finally noticed the guy.
He was the only one who never said hi

She asked why he never cared
He answered "I'm sorry your majesty"

This went back and forth for a couple weeks
Until one day he didn't come to school

There was a guy.
And this guy hung a crown around his neck
No one saw this but everyone cared

The girl finally noticed the guy.
He was the only one who never said bye
Stop worrying about yourself all the time because there are tons more people in the world that need caring for too.
pluie d'été Nov 2014
my fingers move across the letters
feel the ridges
and the spaces between the slightly
rounded squares

q a s p y u e i o c f d

the keys don't make the words
i want them to
or say the things
i mean them to

g j o d f p f s f w e d k f j o g ?

i want to write
the most important sentence
to have ever slipped out
of my fingertips
but my mind keeps on
stuttering
and the clock on the wall downstairs
keeps on
ticking

p o h j l d e m y u i

i am a history book
that's almost twenty one years old
and i feel like i hold
a thousand empty pages
ready to disintegrate
with the next farewell

o p h k l o m n y r i c d

the shadows of my thoughts
fill the spaces in my mind
and make my heart jump
at the clarity
fleeting
and i wish i could write
fast enough
to catch the words i want to fold
and press to
your warm heart
but then i would be
as perfect as you think i am
and a lie

g n o b m h l o w t

i am afraid of your eyes
and the way your smile
has begun to hesitate

forgive me if i am wrong
and if i leave
before you can say goodbye
pluie d'été Nov 2014
it's sad
my love
when you laugh

and it's sad
my love
when you lie

and lately
darling
you've been doing both of them
simultaneously
pluie d'été Oct 2014
we used to hold out
for the one we love
(it was easy for a while, wasn't it?)

it's 6:45 and i am as uncertain
as a summer thunderstorm
(am i allowed to kiss you
if i only think that i love you?)

i don't want to be in your head
and i don't want you
to tell me
everything you feel
unless you heart
aches to
(but are you always thinking of me?)

you trace my body
with your trembling hands
made of words
your eyes
scarring me indefinitely
(i should wish to know
when we think)

you stop my thoughts from tangling
with the sound of your voice
(and hold them
shaking
in the palm of your hand)

darling,
your laugh makes my heart
split and i can't help
but miss you a second after
we say goodbye
(stay longer
than a little while)
x
  Oct 2014 pluie d'été
Jeffrey Pua
True love
Is a wanderer
Who refuses
To go back.

© 2014 J.S.P.
pluie d'été Oct 2014
Don't be so angry.  The world owes you nothing. It isn't trying to hurt you or make you wear how unfair it is on your wrists forever. It didn't ask for you to exist,  so don't curse it for the day you were born on, or act like it's an inconvenience around others for you to breathe and murmur and stare. Stop.
Stop thinking that everyone is superficial and fake and that you're the only 'real' one in the universe, or that they have the right to think of you any less than them.
Neither of you have that right.
You are here. They are here. I am here.
It doesn't matter what skin colour you are, or what gender you are or whether you like boys or girls or both. It doesn't matter if you believe in a god or not, or if you're uncertain. It doesn't matter if you are covered in tattoos or not, or if you love books or hate books, or if you're afraid of heights or aren't but wish you were.
Stop apologizing.
Stop screaming.
Think about what you're saying before you say it. Think about what you are doing before you do it.  
You choose how you respond, you choose your destiny, and you choose your reality.
So breathe and feel alive while you're alive. Laugh and love and get hurt. There's nothing wrong with living as who you are.
You are allowed to be.
They are allowed to be.
I am allowed to be.
We are allowed to be

You will be a gift at your best and someone who needs a shoulder to lean on when you are at your worst.
Let yourself see.
Let them see.
Let me see.
Let us see.
I write about fictional personalities mirrored in myself because the thought of admitting the shattering pain is so fragile and unbearable that I would have to bite the blade and let it take over.
I write about the girl by the bus, the boy with the special voice, the coughing woman and even the schizophrenic man.
But you may never ask me to name them, you may never ask me if they exist
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