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Luna Maria Mar 30
I already wrote so many words
about
your precious smile
the light in your eyes
and how wonderful you talk
but I still didn't find the right word
to describe how I feel about
you.
I can't get you of my mind.
Thorns Mar 26
Sometimes I go too  deep in my writing for others to understand
It's too much for them to take in
I'm not looking for praise
Or for money
But for expression of myself and others
So, they can relate and understand
That some of us go through things that only a dark fantasy can describe
And I'm sorry if its too much
There are no words
in any
dictionary
that will help me describe
you.
I think I will have to make
some new ones
in order
for our conversations
to continue.
You are too good for any words!
I didn't know
I've been doing this for so long
I met you online
We had only one chat
About an hour
But you changed my life
In a bad way
In a way I can't describe
At that exact moment
The lies started
And have never stopped since
I'm like a branch on tree stretching reaching out
the further I reach the
more free I become
able
to see further the road
that will now be my
future reaching higher
I become more
confident
with each passing day an
Inner strength I've found
that I didn't know I had
but It's there feel It so strong
like a branch on a tree that has survived a bitterly cold winter to live
again to see another summer
gone are the bare cold branches beautiful green buds soon be the green leaves of summer
again and to there I will live my life
again
Because I'm becoming stronger I'm coping with the loss better this poems describe best at this moment In time how I'm coping with life
Johnny walker Dec 2018
I like nothing better at night but to go messing around In my dreams
of with you, singing and
dancing like never
before
even things we'd
never tried before, that's
the beauty of when you go messing about In your dreams at
night
A little fantasy to describe having dreams of your
loved one lost
Dani Dec 2018
Dissect me, tear me apart, take what you please and turn me to art. Poet, poet mind, poet soul. Write me like one of your poems old. My eyes green and my soul - a rainbow dull. Piece me together with words that flow. Break me apart to describe me as I grow. I want to see what others do. I want to read the thoughts of you. Poet, Dear Poet, write me please. What I ask is not a simple act; I know it won’t come with ease.

Sincerely,
Me
Vaniexe Kafka Sep 2018
And then he didn't come back

The summers passed, autumns faded, winters roared, and springs bloomed but he's nowhere to be seen.

As she made her way to the shore, she felt the gentle breeze and the embrace of the waves and as she looked up; she saw the moon alone in the vast nothingness of the sky with no star to keep her company.

She remembered him, thinking that maybe the stars are gone for the moon is too broken and is not as illuminated as it was the first time.

Then she remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. His eyes shone so bright, held much admiration in his gaze that she couldn't understand for she is nothing sort of a goddess the moon had blessed.

None of her poems caught the light and the life in his eyes when they first met: of how it looked silver and storm that reflects his turbulent emotions, of how his eyes reached the depths of her soul with his gaze, of how he saw her as his moon.

None of them could ever describe how his eyes demand to be stared at. None of them.

But then, he was a fleeting light like a poem you will only read once for it is blindingly painful that it hurts looking the second time.

And now, she feels a part of her is missing as she search for the stars up above.

And then she fixed her gaze, closing her eyes to the moon: wishing that when he said "It's because of you." He doesn't mean goodbye. Wishing he doesn't mean she's the reason why he's gone. Wishing that dreams aren't supposed to be just dreams for when they become reality, they take away the magical feeling.

A few tears escaped her closed lids and glistened as they bathe on the light of the moon as she thought of the last poem she'll ever write to him.

And then she finally whispered hoping the wind will bring it to him:

" And maybe,
   paintings and poetry
   couldn't hold a candle
   To every emotion
   we once had.

    You
    hold a key
    when we
    first met.

    I should've known
    that that key
    is not for me

    For I
    was never
    your home. "
Entry # 2 To the Book I Will Never Write
Caroline Jacobs Jul 2018
If there was one word to describe how I'm feeling
I would write it all over the walls
I would paint it on all sidewalks and streets
I would scream it from the roof of every building
I would tell it to every person and let them know I am human. And I matter.
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