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Emm Sep 2017
I'd get tired of the wait
Undress me and strip me bare again every season
Yes, I might enjoy the attention
But something I'd long,
is it so wrong?
More than just the adoration
I want you to make the bet
Always an onlooker,
never a taker
I wonder how it would be to go home with you
I promise not ask you to jump over the bar
Even though I know I can't give much either
That'd be more than what you'd bargain for
That'd be more than what I'm capable, and I'd lie to me,
Or until I learn to do so, maybe
but should I
would I?
Can I?
To bet my whole existence on something so fleeting?
your mere feeling
Although the power of persuassion
sometimes is a pressure so strong alone
Would you discard me,
once you take me?
Would I be less lonely,
would you be less lonely?
Would you regret me?
Would I regret me?
Sometimes I wonder so
and this yearning that I crave to know
But, always an onlooker,
never a taker
Mark Lecuona Jul 2017
Nobody ever met me in a bar
There’s not enough room in there
Where do I put my childhood
All the friends I’ve known
All the times I've been alone
I wonder if anybody would care

I wonder if I’ve had my finest hour
Maybe I could ask my daughter
I think it was when she was a baby
But only I remember those times
Only I remember those rhymes
And not the baby held by her father

I’m not hard to get to know
The book is always open
But there aren’t any pictures
You’re gonna’ have to read it on your own

I left myself behind in the car
I just don’t want to talk about it
Being a stranger is easier
Just someone for you to walk by
Just someone who won’t make you cry
You’ll never know that I’m worth it

I’m not hard to get to know
Sometimes the book is out on loan
But I’ll be back on the shelf soon
I know there's a lot of pages to turn
Karina B Aug 2015
It seems all great poems are about love.
For me, that's not the case.
It seems, as I read, we revolve around love,
Around this passion, fury, lifelong ache.

It seems that everyone knows what love is,
If they don't, they know what love should be.
It seems everyone desires to experience love,
They think that love will set them free.

That's not the case for me.

These words of longing, of beauty and desire,
Words that paint stars onto the sky,
Are words I cherish, admire and adore,
But not ones I try to exemplify.

I have never been in love.
Maybe one day, I will be.
Maybe one day, I will understand those words.
Perhaps, one day, I will read them and agree.

Today, I'll just try to be me.

— The End —