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R 34m
I cried today
Because I can't say
How mad I am at you, my unknowing love

In the blue hours you don't think of me
Too busy lamenting how you work too hard
When the streetlights come on, you don't miss me

Because you don't know anything
You don't know how I love those blue hours
Or the streetlights of the night

You don't know how I love you
I'm drowning in an ocean of you,
and only you.

There is no concept of time anymore.
A minute feels like hours,
but a year is just a moment.

I am sinking.
Whether fast and diving to the bottom,
or slow and drifting softly into the depths.

Sometimes the tide is harsh,
and throws me around.
Other times the sea rocks me softly
into an endless sleep.

At first I thrashed,
gasping for air but being empty of it.
I screamed and begged,
for I did not want to become the water.

Over time I accepted the calm blue warmth,
I embraced it.
I grew gills to adapt to the lack of oxygen,
and fins to swim through every thought of you.

I no longer am drowning;
I am choosing to stay.
I am navigating the crystal waters,
as if I've lived in them my whole life.

So if I am drowning:
I will tie large stones to my feet,
and embrace the darkness that is to come.
Fall greets the earth as summer slips quietly away.
The seasons are changing, as the leaves shift in color from Emerald Green and Chartreuse
to Russet Browns, antiques of their once fine grandeur,
though still splendid in their beauty.
The color of the leaves, as if painted by hand, so individually crafted.
With swirls of Orange and Coquelicot, the leaves fall as if they are gracing the earth the way a painter graces their canvas.
The air grows cooler, giving way to new glory, breezy winds that whisper, carrying undertones of what is to come.
The lakes feel the chill, and the creatures understand that the changing winds will soon give way to a glacial paradise, an icy oasis.
The changing of the season from summer to fall is one I look forward to,
for there is something in the change that brings back fond memories.
Days filled with love, days spent in front of the fire, snugly wrapped, watching the flames twirl and dance.
Days filled with wonder, days in which my life seemed to move along to a soft and gentle melody that only I could hear.
Days when I held to life, and it met me with grace.
Still now, when I feel the fall winds gently embracing my skin,
I feel the same wonder, and that old melody carries me away again.

-Rhia Clay
I know it's not the season for fall poetry. However, I wanted to share a piece I wrote a while back that brings back fond memories. I hope you'll enjoy it too. :)
Gabbro 5h
I think he's there but
I can't be sure.
Can anyone be sure

Of themselves,
Or can they
Just lie convincingly

Next to one another,
Two boys lay on their chests
Fingers blooming out towards

The Others. No contact
Their heads averted
They lie, as mirrored angels

Unshifting, so they don't spill blood
From their backs
On the snow

It's easier to be near someone
If you don't have to look.
You don't have to feel

Blue snow on your wound
Or red hands in yours
Or the relief that feels red-black

Like the color of your eyelids.
closing my eyes
And looking makes me feel

The closest I can to seeing inside
My mind, and it's all bouncing dots
And swirling pink-blue-red-black-white.

I want to be a flower
Because they don't have eyes
To close. I want to be a flower

Because they need only be open
To the sky, and the sky loves them.
The sky rains when they are closed and

When they are blooming, the sky
Shines light through their petals
And says,

I love the way you glow.
Two people that love each other but have both made mistakes hurting the other
Jay Lewis 16h
I didn’t know how much I wanted to be a mother,
Until I met the man who would be a fantastic father.

Now I’m waiting for you little one to bring meaning to my life.
Jay Lewis 15h
I said to your Dad “I want a busy house”.

A home where we may have slept in on a weekday, then we’re rushing to grab a bite of toast before we’re stuck in traffic trying to get you to school on time.

A home where the laundry doesn’t always get done straight away and when it does we have sock fights and pray that the dog doesn’t end up going back to the vets to rescue one of the pair.

A home where you’ll try to eat what you can from your plate and we won’t mind if you snack later in the day. In fact we won’t mind if you wake us up to go on a midnight feast adventure in the middle of the night.

A home where you’ll be happy and grow up and maybe one day want to call your own.

I said to your Dad “I don’t want a busy house, I want a busy home”.
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