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GRAVE27 May 2020
Found you once
Bet it'll never happens twice
You're the most fun
Full of advice

Meet you everyday
For you I pray
Don't care what they say
It's you I crave

See you Everytime
Once more and I'm fine
You're my brightest dime
Thank God you're mine

Love you forever
For you I'm better
Never felt saver
You're the only one i want more
Than anything the world offers
me
Moral point of view,
no books with any answers,
my lover, it’s weird without you around
& I have not yet mastered
the words of poetry, to convey to you.
While surprised that you ever loved,
while I was screaming about
everything being Holy.
For this had changed the course of my
affairs, it’s like I no longer have
any rest, I’m sure my emotions are
sending me to hell.
Wept, to how I suffer, my stanzas are lost,
though it seems selfish to vent
for me only, I was your keeper, because
you promised to be mine & war
broke out.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jjBNlhz6nA&t=2082s
eli Feb 2020
#56
yikes i love you guys and-


i know i wasnt dating them first and that it was a mutual thing


but god.


im catching feelings
s/os
Diamond rings
Happy things
You listen while she likes to sing
And you watch when she's practicing
You're so happy together

I wish I could have that too
But you two are stuck like glue
I have nobody else to turn to
Maybe I'll stay all alone...
For: Jenny Thomas, Frances Lefevre
Donna Bella Aug 2019
I’m getting older
In an multitude of ways
I can look at my yesterday and see so many things I thought I would have never seen
I fell in love again when I thought I didn’t have anymore love in me
I’m getting older
Maybe he’ll still love me as much as I love him
Im getting older
Berenice Jul 2019
So sad
I miss you...
I love your brown silky hair
Your eyes
Your smile
They ask what if...
I'm sad and I miss you
I want to cry my eyes dry
Is it selfish love
'cause I enjoyed?
'cause you gave me so much....?
Mustapha Olokun Jun 2019
I contemplated for minutes,
wondering if the calling was
for letters to, or
letters of.

therefore arriving,
at the true conclusion,
that these experiences
dwell in the realm 'of'

'to', grants the recipients
attention, and fingers their
pool of uncertain interests,
and builds their vanity.

my story about love . .
is a deep fable,
a seemingly infinite path,
by waterfalls and erupting volcanoes.

the wind that came to fix,
the fragments of aqua.
shared the graces on my skin,
and satisfied me for a little.

then, uncertainty of the erupting tip,
makes the path unbalanced.
as treading near the base of its grip,
being burned of heated fragments

I could not go into the water in full,
as it would have drowned me.
and should I find the volcano awakened,
the end's good was unlikely.

I've had women,
charm like water fall drops,
for the same drop to be quenched
by their own eruptions.

I loved, as their love was never certain.
I did, and took the blows of unsatisfied women.
I cried, and wondered why I ever cried at all.
I shared, and was brought in the end, their true self.

The self, that exposes its reality,
when the damage is done.
The self, that gives,
so it can be given more.

I went only into 'her' knowing
the motion of a flutes wind,
the orchestras soft vocals,
and the beating drum.

satisfied her by the trinity.
in an art physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I opened her sacred door and entered in,
as she 'helled' my precious neck as I was within.

her morning's worry,
came before mine.
her lacking seeds,
I planted with love in a small garden.

the growth of a fruit bearing tree,
never came to display,
and what I sought to water in the garden,
she choice to wither away.

I've had women,
claim love on the first day.
I've had women,
take the pain from my heart  . .

and cast it to the brain,
cast it to the health,
cast it to the self,
the esteem, the confidence . .

or the bridge
that connected me to my wealth,
or the fountain,
where there, lied gratifying joy.

played, like with a toy,
and refusing the toy's story.
because I wanted my own,
I wanted the truth.

and the truth will always reveal itself.

of all that could have been,
the joy to have been at all is enough.
what could have been of all,
is much too tough to consider.

the toughness that drills into a soul,
sending them to the gate as
a ghost with a hole.
and what soul of this kind can proceed further?

and for what?
of what could have been?
if you could..
you would have been . . . .



on that path, it seemed infinite.
but evidence suggests nothing is forever.
infinite is the feeling of always,
infinite is the hopelessness, lack of belief in an end.

in that garden, eventually the tree will grow,
and the fruits will be born.
but for the one for which it was planted for,
there is no hope to reap.

and for the one who accepts the fruit,
it would have been so because
they HAVE been, when it was time to grow,
and when it was time to hold.

and from the tree that bore the fruit,
one leaf was taken, and a psalm written.
existing as a letter of what could have been,
to every woman that couldn't.
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