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The bridge character
is essential to the narrative,
it's just not her narrative.

And later,
as if because the readers
have asked for more,
as if something about her
caught their imagination,
prompting fresh questions,
she features again
and the panels frame
more detail,
more of her back story,
her motivation
and perhaps we learn
her true name.

In a few years time
it may be that
a reader develops into a writer,
or perhaps an editor,
and a story is commissioned
telling her history
with colour,
with space
and we see, at last,
her scars
and at last we see
the essential essence
of how she came to be.
And we identify
with her.

But one night
when we look back
when we read again
that first appearance,
we realise that there remains
some unexplained detail,
a few missing pieces of her jigsaw

and as we put the final touches
to our too tight cosplay,
we wait, with hope
for her own title
that just might
reveal her full
Reading my back catalogue.
Keyan R Mar 12
I am too nice,
My strongest point makes me the weakest,
Regardless of my height, being too kind is where the peak ends
I don't mean by being respectful is where I've lost the fight
The scraps and bruises come from those beneath my mighty branches, those who keep taking chances
The one I constantly provide for, the one that see my bark as supplies, my shade as protection, my time as what I only provide

And I'm way too nice,
She knows all my secrets, how to pick at my wounds
How to get me to leak information, how to deepen past feuds
With more ammunition that I never planed for because I am not the type to protrude and push someone down when their lost or confused
See there's a big difference between helping someone who actually needs it,
And someone taking advantage of the help you give

It's hard to see the difference,
Like a misspelled word in the dictionary
Is that truth or fiction?
Is is reality or a depiction of what is being preconceived..
Those are thoughts I now think about as the text is being received
Her words and phone calls I can't tell why I feel so relieved
When I speak to her, even if I am being deceived.
Everyone I've talked to has told me to block her number, and it's so hard..They even offer to take my phone and do it themselves...and I claim I'd do it myself. I still haven't and still like an idiot answer her call or her text. I know it's obvious, but it's hard letting go. Even if I feel detached, her web still hushes my lips and I am bitten by a venomous kiss. It's toxic isn't this? To give and never receive...that's how our relationship always is.
I maybe cliche, I maybe melodramatic,
attending to my intense emotions,
luminous & free, painful & curse like,
liberty I wanted, but its freedom
from myself to what I need.
Decent for dessent
That’s how it’s rhythm went
As the conflict came to rise like the spark inside a fire
Intrepid since creation
We’ve been walking many wires
Feigning fear to To try and feel
A discernment of what is real but what’s disregarded is the fact you even have to question
Ignorance is bliss? Or strength in your intention?
Thought cannot be the only thing to exist
However a zombie is a waste if it doesn’t eat
Have a little taste of a musing ride
That brings the flavor, you’ll need a guide
Clear it
Hear it and run
Takin’ a century can it be done?
The meeting as one
Secret salvation the secret is done
Are they telling in whispers and walking like drifters
They’re  tripping on papers it’s time to re gift it
explain in due time ya never could fake this
Always trying to break us
But the music is strong and it’s beat  will make us
The beings that we are
the worlds we are
The birth of the universe from another’s dying star
We are the afterlife of another existence
Brand new creation looking for witness
Billions of years  to finally have it here and now it could easily disappear
Reality is what?
Desire and emptiness?
Why’s the door shut every time I vent through this
Aging agitation
Buried vegetation
It’s time to find the faults within and bless it all with love so that the veil may fall and the world may hear it’s original name, but for now it shall be a very long game
acacia Mar 8
I look at you... and I just, I dunno, I want to know what you taste like -- but not in that way, not in the way you might want to. I know I shouldn't but it's the strangest urge to me. I want you to feel all over me. ****** my tail the way you do when you grab a fish from a lake; dig into my skin with your fangs like you do when you bite into cooked meat; hit me with your fists the way you punch the wall; I just want you all over me.
Lujane yearns for Israel the way a dehydrated being craves the slightest drop of water.

good night
Christina P Mar 2
As I am lying here in my bed
I can't help but feel like a fraud
Because in order to deal with my scars
I create characters
Who speak the words
I will never be able to say myself
Justyn Huang Feb 25
The Lover is a conqueror
whose name is once everyone's
as they search the faces
of strangers for pieces of
themself, in mountains,
in valleys, ‘til the edges of earth
crumbles at someone like You,
the Lover is never another
late comer to your bed
but instead
will lay down their life
To rest as time tries to search
for surrender and finality by
looking inside some meaning and
some conflict and some tender harsh
romping for the Lover never gives
Up too easily to know,

Love is a death
Love is a slumber
Love is to be taken
Love is to be lost

Love is what the conqueror
Could not fend off.
Asiah Mangham Feb 20
If it were this easy to break you
If the slightest challenge in your character makes you quiver
Then who said you were strong anyways.
You're not invincible
& maybe that's what they see...
What determines my character?

Like loss, it's more than letting go or peace in a gradual process. Our own mind has freedom, call it intelligence or imagination. We all know the truth & falsehood. But our self-realization is a combination of things, lead through experience. Slowly, we learn, call it truth, but it's a painful process of discovery or learning of our personal painful-regret. In not only what we did with our time. but to the time spent thinking about what we did, to those whom we loved too knowing we were only there for them. It's uncanny at times how we're thrown out of our normal life, coming to grips of what we wasted on. Regretting what we cared about, bounded upon on petty concerns or the things we thought we loved & it's not true.

In death or painful transitions, we'll look back & question what we were doing? When in normality or that comfort of an environment we have grown to know, our emotions tend to tell us, death isn't coming. Ideals are made to let us know who we can be, the pain of not putting effort into it will be far Superior to the daily pain of not doing so.

I’m not writing this in support of some doctrine, dogma, religion or philosophy.

The best ever compliment that I’ve ever received, is that I’m good enough

And the worst thing I could ever say to myself, don't ever change.

There’s politics, religion, culture. Things that people, families, communities, states, whoever had gone to war over. But no one ever protests ideas. With what we call truth & lies, there’s nothing to determine that besides our very emotional attachment. At the moment, I render that at the end of learning is absolutes, knowing the minds of gods, the daily lives of cultured masters and secrets of the common people, dead or alive.

Its ideas with a heartbeat and we attach ourselves to attainable actions when it’s exhausted, it’s either mundane or normal, comfortable or even useless, cause we don’t feel it.

This isn’t to make anyone feel bad or even to prove anyone wrong.

But there’s a price to pay when thinking for oneself. Hearing about the world being a totality of things, if one isn’t puzzled about it, life, society, civilization, culture or politics, it’s a possibility one is replica mind of another or it’s under total control. Is it better to work out consciously and critically one's own conception of the world and thus, in connection with the labours of one's own brain, choose one's sphere of activity, take an active part in the creation of the history of the world, be one's own guide, refusing to accept passively and supinely from outside the moulding of one' own personality? People hesitate. People tend not to think when the flow of life is normal. No one ever thinks about their external environment, whether it be peers, family, lovers or their spouse, not even the actions their dictate. What determines quality? It’s hard to come to grips when one’s internal life isn’t reflected in the external outside times of pain and suffering or feeling flat, when we’re starkly reminded of we’re doing the right thing or not?

It’s hard to let go of things that we care about, a community, a lover, a friend or even a daily routine such as coffee in the morning. All things come to an end and I think death is the harshness of reality. I say this stuff in order to think about one's character rather appeasing the external. Our very mind controls so much of it, often, if it feels good, we generally don’t think about it until those painful moments. None of what I’m saying is new, we can admire people on what they do, but despite who they are, example, we can admire someone creating an altruistic company but doing on an external command, like for wages or being a model employee. Fleeing ideas, forgetting what we’re doing. Often we do things in hopes of appeasing the outside or what we do will amount to contentment in the future. I’m not supporting the self-doing something for the selfishness of self-interest, but to develop a character of balance where it’s fulfilling, having the essentials as the bonus is a contribution to reality.

In a way, I am supporting one to develop a personalized individual philosophy. Feeling and knowing can be two completely different things. The now is a letting go of not only the personal past that's lived but of the future one will never experience.

By doing so, you’ll learn a lot, of not only what one is doing with their time, but to our peers, family and lovers. It’s shocking to how much the external is here for only that. And it’s worse to know when one has to gradual learn how to self develop into self-validation.
Rajinder Feb 15
How can one enter a story?
Like gaps in words,
emptiness between breaks.
How can one crawl out of a plot
stealing a character?
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