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Pizacas23 May 2020
It's been so long we're together
And now it feels like we're stranger

Those happy faces you guys saw me
Those warm hugs you guys gave me
And those three words you guys told me
Until such time I knew was not meant for me.
John McCafferty Mar 2020
At times like these step back
Ease into it with mind relaxed
We can only persist
Try to see your former self
Contest the things we could have done
Externalise internal thoughts
To talk alone
Old or young
Discuss the paths which were pursued
You and me are one and yet we've had so much fun
Today's the day as yesterday
Is gone
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Trev Fisher Jan 2020
At the dawn of my half century
I sometimes squint to see who's moving
whose heads pop up above the wheat and weeds
whose flower is still blooming,

and it is there I find you
standing taller than them all
drinking in the sunlight
no man has made you fall

and no man has ever owned you
though all of them endeavored
including me, my younger self
and I lost you forever

Do not hang me for my folly
for I was younger then
and loving you naively
shouldn't be a capital offence

I am worthy of you now
but will you ever come
or will you sit there swaying
never needing anyone,
drinking in the sun
Of all my former lovers Mary D is the one that left the most enduring scratch on my soul, it's a wonderful wound, she was amy teacher about so much
She hates the way I talk,
She hates the way I walk,
She's acting like she's too good for me,
But I know the truth,

She says I broke her heart,
But I just figured out what kind of person she was,
She holds a grudge like it's all she has,
Made her pride her first choice,

All I have in my hand is a deck of card,
A knave for her queen of spades,
I will give and she will take,
It'll be a circle,
I'll be in pain,
She will never know what she is,

So I'll let her believe,
I did her wrong,
Until she realise what she had damaged,
Ignorance will be her punishment.
Friends to enemies / couples to enemies both work. Self-reflection is necessary. No one person is to blame.
Rozey Mar 2019
I used to tell myself that I was never a pretty girl
I allowed someone's opinion clout my world
I doubted everything I could do
I allowed someone's thought influence me too
Only now:
I am confident wearing my flaws
From head to toe, I know I have it all
I know I'm not perfect but, I indeed have great skills
To all those before, you no longer have the power of my wills
Colm Sep 2018
The slowest pain
  In the back to explain
    Is when someone you've known
      All along from the start
        Pulls out the knife
      Slowly inching by inch
    Almost surgically
  Barely missing your original heart
An old write about an old misunderstanding. It's sad really. But I did my part.
Oh Glenda (Miz Gee gee)
     years elapsed since, I didst hawk
     verboten fruit adrip
from yar verdant bough,  
     thy strong craven raven
     doth still twitter and flip

sans thy testosterone switch,
     where woody pecker missus grip
ping re: egret ting prospective
     relationship nixed thee
     as gull friend material, hip
mistress, though heron eye did pay lip

     service verily orgasmically quip
yes...wren doer ring
     more'n commit Freudian slip
which peeping cardinal tip
     towing thru nested tulip trip

     gave balled oriole peck whip
ping lil *** pistol be
     friending chirping ***** riot
inserting thingmabob
     after pants sigh did un zip.
Egg gad unlike rob bin duck cradle
yar mature red breast all aswirl
     asper a stationary dreidel
mammary ducts mine mouth pursed
     yar ******* mine gums did ladle.

Only in memory, aye
hungrily thirst and thirstily hunger
     fort deux aureole dye
still affecting this gab
     bird, who didst deign
     as milquetoast guy.

Whenever this birdman alone
his thoughts metaphorically drone
worm wayward toward
     ***** thatch, where

     hello kitty doth purr and groan
of quintessentially
     ***** coiled hair moan
ning softly as thee
     bared naked lady lies prone
admiring pinkish puckered
     def flesh tone.
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
I recalled the smell of junipers warming in the sun,
Or maybe mice nesting under the cupboard.
Or bleached linen hung out by Mum,
Reminds me of something about Dad from long ago,
You ask me…to say if it was gin;
There are things I can’t tell you, Son.
Some people think that it’s a sin;
So just use your imagination.

Another time I smelled crushed daisies of
The housemaids, I remember from Kleßheim.
Thunderstorms rolled down from the Alps at night,
Then turned at morning into clarified, buttered sun.
They remind me of someone’s blonde hair,
I just can’t tell you when or where,
So use your imagination.

Scent is the most potent mnemonic,
Triggering mystical cells inside,
Creating a stream of biophotonics,
Rapture returns in histrionics,
Tracking things from skin and hair,
To lips and eyes, to a groan, an intrigued stare.
Things we can never tell another, even if
He or she or they were there
What happened in those brilliant days?
Only imagination can say.

Crystal hanging in the window at nine o’clock,
Rays strike the glass, opening up the past.
Before me spreads a wide, green lawn,
Ladies and lords stroll with their finery on.
I sit and watch, while the procession advances,
Tricornes doffed and stays undone in dances.
Until the satin, silk and brocades lie on the ground,
Gavotte kisses become tender, sensual rounds
And naked, youth flees into woods.
And everything is happening;
Everything is good.
This is about memory, predominantly smell, how much we remember and what is only guessed at. The last part is about memories of a past life triggered by light in a prism.
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