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Love wasn't my agenda
I came close to you
To map you and spy on you
Study human behaviour
You as a subject
You unaware of motives
Spying I got to know you
Your innocence and your gentle mesmerizing nature
Your caring and loving overtures
That I forgot my agenda
Collect data from other subjects too
Write a thesis to complete
My research
For I couldn't afford
Losing you
Acting in the manner
With other subjects
As I did with you
Would have hurt you
I am  in love with you
I love you!
Everyone says
"Do whatever makes you happy"
Don't mention the cost of it though
You do not know the price until your choices
Come collect and tell you what you owe

In moments you don't realize
Consequences of what you do
Only after it's too late
You can see what would have been best for you

Some decisions too expensive
Until you get the bill you won't know
By then you can't go back and choose
Different directions to go

So bear in mind that every action
And mistake is a tattoo
No matter how costly our regrets
Every one we can never undo
An old one from 2017
Erian Rose Sep 2020
I'm still me
And we're distant now
I've gotten stronger
And growing loud
Sometimes I wonder
If you hadn't gone
Extending hands
Vast beyond the sea
Collecting deep-colored shells
For a heart severed-to-be
Veritia Venandi Aug 2020
Fallen stars on parched land...

Brought with them a piece of heaven...

The child in me ran to collect... in fragile hands...

To hang them in tender threads from the window...

So as to light up my heart upon a dark day!
Sometimes a sweet memory of the past is all you need to brighten up your dark day!
Amanda Hawk Jul 2020
Vowels and consonants

Pool together into words

As my emotions rain down

The grim and grit

Of every memory clings

To each sentence

Until I step in

Then they collect on me

Dampening fingertips

And soaking my tongue

I jump in

Splashing out thoughts

Until I am coated in my imagination

I stomp through

The puddles of letters

Saturating me with words

And sentences are dripping

From my chin
Poetic T Oct 2019
Time is a construct of
       passing frailties,
We cling to them more so for comfort.


Not realising that we're already
                an echo just rebounding off
the moments that have conceded
to a  passing that is bigger than us.

But still we live for those mere seconds,
                                                 for meaning.

And to show that even though we were
                         just a flicker,


                     we burnt brighter than a star.
Neon Robinson Oct 2017
Is burrowing a web
weaving a collection,
accumulating an anthology

For a far gone day
Stash them away
set them aside with a
what, when, why

rather than right
now ambitious zeal

discoverable.
findability.

Its the nature of the undertaking.
My minds an unavoidable reciprocal
Gratified by wasting time,
It’s just there filling space

Tucked away for a rainy day
In every nook and cranny

Tickling the fancy.

Affording a kind of intellectual gusto
that's borderline deplorable
accumulatively downright trifling.

Nonetheless,
even if it's unnecessary
I'll never get my fill
paper to hand typing away
uncovering all of life's mysteries
Vera Anne Wolf Apr 2019
If I could collect every negative thought you ever had about me.
I would blow them away like a dandelion wish.
Sometimes I wish I could just start over with some people, the ones who judge me before they ever got to really know  me.
Deb Jones Jan 2019
I am mercurial writer
Whatever comes to mind

Gritty, dire, ******, dying, loving, funny
I am a wordsmith and a wordwhore

Other people collect shells and coins
I collect words

I always say the words
They may not be appropriately used

But I love the way they feel in my mouth
And on my tongue

I enjoy my unfettered mind
It seems I ***** out words

I love the long walks
I take in other’s minds

I walk around untended and welcomed
Enchanted by your beautiful thoughts

I hope you enjoy the traipse  
Through mine
I am trying to justify how I jump from topic to topic. And I can’t.
I am ok with that. :)
Eleanor Rigby Oct 2018
If only I could collect the rain,
Put it in a jar
And take it to God.

Then I would say,
Here, I found your tears,
They made the soil breath.


-- Eleanor
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