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Staring at your divine face,
Looking at those shy eyes which
couldn't even behold towards
me in my presence,
I have promised myself already
that I'm not gonna defile the
empyrean aura of yours.
So, forget about perceiving any touch.

I am so enthralled by this aura that,
to me, you look no less than a
pristine soul, a deity which shouldn't
be touched but should be worshipped.
Words should be expressive.. They'll automatically become impressive...
I'm starting to not remember how you looked.
But I remember little things,
like how you'd fold half the page to dogear
your place in a book.
The smell of old canvas
which you stretched when you were manic,
and watched it turn whiter
as you grew depressed thinking of how to paint it.

The grinding of your teeth in your sleep, ******* it
it drove me up the wall. Still does, because
as I sit here writing it from memory I shuddered.

The smell of your shampoo whose brand name I forgot.
Because if I could I'd have a case of it.
Just to be nearer to you.

You used to smile when I'd read you something I wrote.
Now I've found a website where I can post.
You always told me I had some type of talent to capture
moments nobody noticed,
a photographer with words instead of apertures.
But aren't they meant to be worth a thousand more than mine?
I think you held for me a little bias.

You told me I'd end up as a paragraph in an essay
of some American Literature student's midterm grade.
She'd ace it, and I loved where you placed me.
In the middle of everything better than I was,
in this future of whimsy where I kept writing
just because.

I can't tell you what you gave me for those years, as short as they were.
All I can do is tell other people that any confidence or talent is all due to her.
I miss you. Be well where you are. Sorry for all the ****** poetry :^)
c 10h
If I leave your side
For just a little while
Maybe it won’t hurt me
When she makes you smile

Maybe if I leave you
My foggy mind will get clearer
And I will see you for who you are
Far less than superior.
You told me, "It's over..." again. I know that, Jorge... It's been over.
You know that and I know that.. And of course...
You know I know that.. So who was the validation for?
Let me ask and pretend I don't already know who..
Let me ask and pretend like you'll tell me the truth...
The truth that I already know with every fiber of my being..
The truth you know is the truth, but will NEVER have the ***** to tell me...
Let me ask who has been taking your time..
& doing such a great job keeping me off your mind...
& let me go ahead and pretend
To believe all the lies
that escape your lips then,
like rain from clouds, so effortlessly... so naturally...
Jorge, it's true.. ignorance IS BLISS..
So I beg you, for my own sake, let your lies fall all around me,
All the while,
I'll dance in them proudly
Because I HONESTLY believed You. Were. Mine.
& please love, don't stop.. Until I'm drowing in THIS...
In my last Moments -
leave me.. Like you've done every time...
To sink.. Like an anchor carrying the weight of the world, deeper..
and deeper.. and farther away from the surface..
Still too blind in love to even notice...
That I'm the only WHO
is wasting away... all the days in my own life...
But I'm still seeing visions of YOU...
So I believe that I'm fine...
Even though you've proven you will never BE..
here - to stay - by my side..
The ludicrous hopes in my simple mind...
Absurd, are so pathetically con-vinced;
It. Will. Be. Different.
... this time.
It never had been. It never is.
I know, I know, I know this...
& yet... Despite...
I still think you'll come back & save me..
Cause you wouldn't just let me die,
Although my love - you did.. Let me die like this..
Time and time and time again...
I'll gladly die this way - it's my life to spend -
drowning, figuratively, a hundred, a thousand, a million more times...
Until then,
The beat of your heart is ENOUGH,
to keep my feet above your falling words, but they rise...
Dancing in my own death, So in LOVE...
Ignorantly.. pretending
I believe all your lies.
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez
Sun. July 6, 2018 (11:58pm) - Sat. July 7, 2018 (3:04am)

This was actually a letter I wrote to him... Only.. half way through writing it- I realized it was a good letter, but it was begging to be a great poem. So that's what it became. .....
It's still to Jorge, though...
I love You...
& I'm missing you.
She is the sun; her blinding rays of light shine through her soul during the darkest hours of your day

She is the song you know by heart;  every word spoken, every beat played, and every breath taken is known within the depths of your bones

She is the uncaged bird; free and flying through life without a single care in the world, ready to sing her sweet melody at any waking moment, and to bless your eyes with her surreal beauty

She is peace; her soft voice and soothing words can talk you down from jumping off the highest of cliffs and diving into the deepest of oceans without the intent of coming back up

She is love; the feeling that makes the tight chains around your heart break to pieces, leaving it open and whole

She is [insert name here]
how strange it all sings
how strange everything leads around
strangely all this is strange
how strange it is now october
and the fact that now is not november and the fact that
now is not september and what is now
there is something and that is strange

how strange it is very all around
how strange everything is very and incomprehensible
and why and why does this circle exist
and why and why am I a hostage in it
did i sing too loudly or at all
very very quietly I really sang
I was too strong man or very
and very weak about what is the reason for all

reason about the reason all around what's and
these all the weirdness of these all sorrows
all the joys of where and why and why now
not december and why now is not february and why
and why am I saying all these words now
because I know that now everything is in the same lane and
that now everything is both yes and no and always

Emma 1d
As I walk through your museum,
I admire all the art.
I admire the postcards and love notes
carefully stuck the home of
your beloved.

As I walk through your museum,
I wonder what time She comes home.
I see how everything in her existence
has been tainted by you
as I quietly reassure myself it won't be soon.

As I walk through your museum,
I see you turn to face me;
and I feel my heart flutter so hard
that it must have flown out of my chest.
It doesn't matter, I tell myself,
He only wants you.

As I walk through your museum,
into your venereal grasp,
I feel your certain hands
pull away at the little modest which remained.
You do it as surely as
a bee follows honey.

As I walk through your museum,
into that place where everything changed,
I can't help but see how
lovingly you gaze upon Her.
It's in all the frames affectionally placed
on the walls of the place, She calls home.

As I walk through your museum,
and I feel your hands begin to empty me
like a pumpkin on hollows eve,
I see Her. I see everything I knew I would see.
I see the  pain at what you are doing
and I know that I have made a girl like me.

As I walk through your museum
towards the door with a choir of screams and tears following,
I remember how it felt to be a girl like me, on my first time.
And I smile,
peaceful with the knowledge that
I am not the only girl like me.
There's nothing more I'd like to do,
Then snuggle in close and fall asleep with you..
& right now I'm a lot closer to you than I've been since the last time...
The last time you were here.. I know it's been on your mind..
It's on mine...
& the last time we spoke - you asked to see me..
I said, "No," but it felt like I denied my lungs the air needed for breathing...

....Changed thoughts....

Man, I really hate crying.
I can't stop, but I'm trying.
There's no point in fighting..
Both actions waste time.
If you asked & I told you, "I'm doing fine,"
You can rest assure that THEN I'd be lying...
But I know eventually.. I'll be alright....
I can't change those who I feel crossed the line...
But I can change the thoughts I repeat in my mind.
By: Miranda Martinez

I know the end doesn't sound much like an ending. I fell asleep while writing this .. Twice. Anyhow.... Everything I write is just to get out emotions I feel would be detrimental to my health if otberwise kept in.... They're more for me... Just Can't keep track of my notebooks as well as I used to...
boy oh boy
what do i do
you love her
but i love you
the words i write
have always rung true
long before we met
if i went deaf tomorrow
that'd be a small price to pay
because i heard all the music
i ever needed to hear
when i first heard you say
i love you
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