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Tryniti 7h
Am I offering myself a knife to the heart?
Have I unsheathed my dagger?
I think not, I think not
Have you accepted your role, your part?
Would you admit your weakness, your stagger?
I think not, I think not

Deprecate my sense of taste and saunter away
Did you think I'd lay down and take it?
I think not, I think not
Putting my life on hold every single day
Did you think I could fake it?
I think not, I think not

My soul is music, and my heart is sound
Could you feel my past haunting your remark?
I think not, I think not
I looked for your empathy, it couldn't be found
Did you care if your words were stark?
I think not, I think not

Let me tell you this one time
Will you listen to such a girl?
I think not, I think not
What's been taken, was always mine
Did you notice when you broke my world?
I think not, I think not...
Written 05/22/2020
Something bad happened in 1990 on the 28th of May.
It turned out not to be such a great Memorial Day.
I saw a very beautiful girl who looked like she was sixteen or seventeen.
She was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.
I wrote a note and put it in her storm door.
She was younger than I thought and her parents were pretty sore.
She was only fourteen, that was four years younger than me.
They told me to leave her alone and I agreed.
But I really liked her and it was painful not to be able to date her.
I wonder who she's with all these years later.
THIS IS A TRUE STORY THAT HAPPENED 30 YEARS AGO.
The riverbank in July
Is always a pretty sight.
There's something about
The way the light
Dances with the water.

And there was an electricity
In the air. You could smell
It from two metres away.
Like a virus. I felt a tension
When you smiled.

And then you took your shirt off.
Still don't know why,
Maybe you just wanted
Your skin to feel the symphony
Of the electric sunlight.

That added more complexity
To the smile that crossed your lips.
Fine wine. Onions. Layers.
I had only known you for a week,
Maybe that added to it

When I saw your stomach,
My face dropped, the old
Electric stars in my eyes
Died. Replaced with
Unmissiable scars.

I wanted to say something.
Anything. Even if it was
An "always here"
Borderline cliche,
But at least you would know I cared.

I wanted to scream "**** IT!"
Why are we this way?
How can we allow souls
Like yours to go to that
Place? I felt an ache.

And there is an old
Cliche. That scratching
Scars onto a page
Makes the feeling of
Failure go away.

I finished and said **** it again.
I started at it for a while.
Your stomach filled with scars,
And I almost forgot
That electric smile.
Part of a collection I'm working on with a friend, I think it's going to work alright.
She keeps acting hard to get
I pretend to not care
We both know this love is rare
Yet we cant bring ourselves to admit it yet
You told your lies,
And i followed.

Innocent & bovine,
Little did i know,
Like the piper,
You were leading me,
To a ravine.
The biggest coward is a man who awakens a womans love without the intention of loving her.

Bob marly.
This is your fault that I
I miss you
I want to kiss you
Hug you
Laugh with you
Comfort you
Share my day with you.
Always think of you
Pray for you
Suffer for you.
Be with you............
Hoping that you feel the same way!!!

My life will never be normal again.
And its all your fault,
midnight poem idea.
I posted a picture on the internet today,
after handpicking the best of all.
While she is left with no choices,
so she walks on the roads that burn
carrying herself upon her feet that bleed.

I took my camera and checked up the lighting,
as I wanted the picture to look 'natural' and 'candid'.
A cameraman rushes to her to click a picture
as he is a magazine photographer searching for stories real.

I sweated and protested about the scorching heat
while I set up my camera.
She wipes the sweat off her father's forehead
on which the glabellar lines cease to exist,
while hers is carrying the roots and branches of it.

I held books in my hand to strike a pose
as my fingers laid in front,
whose nails I painted yellow for this summer.
She holds the handlebars of her bicycle she can no more hold or paddle,
her nails have painted themselves with the colour of mud.

I clicked too many pictures for me to count or recall.
Even after thousands, she remembered how many miles is home.


I captioned my picture
'No more lonely quarantine',
She hardly knows alphabets or words to even ask for help.

I swiped from filter to filter
selecting an 'aesthetic' one.
She drinks the pitch-black liquid,
they tell her is water,
without even demanding for 'cleaner' one.

I finally edited and made a perfect picture,
with my wide grin sealed with a gloss,
And the cameraman too asks for her to smile for once.
She with her deserted lips forms a curve that makes the cameraman frown.

He deletes the picture from his camera
as it would be disliked by all,
It got 1.9k likes,
The picture I posted on the internet today.
Dez 4d
Oh baby I’m sorry
But I hate when you call me
Pretend I’m not really here
Or anywhere near

Oh girl why you keep callin
I told you already I’m not really fallin
In love with you
Yeah your friends think you’re cool
But now your just being a fool

Sorry... I’m not in love with you
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