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JR Potts Oct 2015
I wrote a book once
but every page was breakup letter to myself.
It’s not you, it’s me appeared to be the theme
yet I found those words incredibly hard to believe.
Please give this a look
And maybe buy my book
Thank you in advance
Take a look, and take a chance

http://www.amazon.com/Roger-Turner/e/B0167G3868/ref=nttdpepwbk_0
Renee Oct 2015
January 23, 2015, Friday, 8:58PM

I fell in love with the sad reality in which you wrote the first half of my book about how much you loved my imperfections and all the love I've always wanted to hear, and the heartbreaking realisation that, I, whom you once loved, am writing the last page — that I was loved by an author and how he tore off the first half of my book. His love for me.
Not a poem.



R.
I'm no longer the cause of that erupting breathe of lust after our bodies collided in rhythm.
in fact, I am nothing of yours.
I chose to not feel my face when I could have just reached out and caressed yours.
I can't even feel your cheek against mine anymore.
I feel the distance our souls have created between us.
that I created between us.
I feel the ache in my stomach as memories of you engulf my cerebrum.
I have a lump in my throat as I whisper your name out into the darkness from the comfort of my bed.
I call out to you from miles away only wishing you'll receive goosebumps along your skin from what you called my electric touch.
I hate how we are separate but together, I see you but cannot touch you.
you are a rare antique in a museum I am forbidden to hold anymore.
Wade Lancaster Aug 2015
What Good Is

What good is speech
When you are not heard
What good is hearing
When you can not listen
What good is thinking
When you have no thought
What good is seeing
When there is darkness
What good is feeling
When you feel nothing
What good is hope
When you are hopeless
What good is peace
When there is none
What good is life
When you can not live
What good is caring
When you can not care
What good is dreaming
When you have no dreams
What good is good
When you are not
What good is…
Permalink http://lancasterwade.wordpress.com/2015/07/13/what-good-is/. "Once you command your own sea you command everything."  Good is a state of mind where you have absolute belief in yourself.
Wade Lancaster Aug 2015
This is goodbye.
I am going to try and forget you, to live my life without you.

To not use you in my words, my writings, my songs.
I am truly sorry about this "apostrophe."

Certainly you had your place in my world.

Many times you were there, for me, for many others too.

You occur when a speaker breaks off from addressing the audience.
And directs speech to an absent third party.
Often it is a personified abstract quality or inanimate object which some absent or nonexistent person or thing is addressed as if present and capable of understanding.

However, you keep me from writing positive words like "Can, Will, Have and Is", among others.

I have come to realize, your best friend... "Not" is an important part of you.
Still one should never discard even a part of a best friend, something you do, when you become part of speaking and writing.

This may not be goodbye completely.

Simple because you were taught to me to be a part of my words.
I cannot blame teachers or writers.
I can only blame myself.

Nevertheless, I have the will to choose.
Therefore, I will make every effort to remove you when I read.
When I speak and when I think. I have that ability.
Permalink: https://lancasterwade.wordpress.com/2014/07/23/apostrophe/
Pen
Maybe when the author was writing our story
His pen has run out of ink
And when he finally got another
He already forgot what's next
And changed our ending
Where you ended up with someone else
While I am waiting for you to come back
Im not a fan of fairytales.
the scent of sadness lingers over your lips as you whisper the word;
"Goodbye."
and as I'm trying to move foward,
while forcing the stream of tears flowing down my cheek to never end,
I can't seem to fight the force
that wants me to
give up and understand that your tears shall never fall upon my hands again.

you're being is a closed exhibit in a forgotten museum,
a place i will never be able to find no matter how far and wide I search the depths of the earth.

you are a foreign stranger,
just another face in the sea of humanity.

BUT you were once my universe,
you once showed me how love can truly exist.
you had showed and reflected hope onto my life.
you marked a footprint in my life,
a milestone.
your heart cared similar to a mother caring for her first infant child.

my heart had continued to beat because of you,
you had showed me strength
and you taught me to never give up.
so here is my promise to you,
I shall never forget your promise to me;
*just keep pushing , no matter how much weight the universe is placing on your shoulders.
i can't believe I lost you,
in a selfish-foolish way.
I thought I needed the pills,
I thought I needed the line,
but what I truly needed
was your eyes.
they looked at me with such tenderness,
a love so deep it's never ending.
I needed your arms,
that held my fingers to stop prying open my skin.
I wish I knew myself better at the time I had you.
because
I ended it all because I thought I
already had
it all.
**** me to hell for my ****** choices.
I hope one day you'll show that sparkle in your eye to another...
even as I type these words I can't get myself to truly want that.
I lost the one thing I needed to keep me alive.
and so now, my readers,
this is goodbye.
not really goodbye, just very upset.
Rachel Dawn Jul 2015
Her laptop reawakens with a sigh.
The coffee *** sputters its morning tune.
Her husband already kissed her goodbye.
Now alone, she listens to the birds croon.

From her fingertips flow colorful realms.
Inside of her is a world no one knows.
She stays at home, the outside overwhelms.
Although lonely, this is the life she chose.

Her readers adore the worlds she creates.
It helps them to escape their own conflicts.
Each new novel, one patiently awaits.
They fly through the pages like book addicts.

As the bills grow, with her husband’s lost hope,
Her words continue to help strangers cope.
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