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Many nights
Lonely nights
Wind flapping tents
Many days
Were better days
Before being sent
Counting hours
Like they’re ours
Our paths will cross again
Wait for me, I had to plea
My love who came and went
A soldiers cry is not to die
Or lose what heaven sent

Here again, I began
To leave my life to fate
Start anew, feeling blue
My heart begins to ache
And if by chance we meet again
Oh lover who couldn’t wait
Just know this soldiers love for you
would have made it through and through.
All those lonely nights and days.
Not a fan of long hugs.
I naturally walk fast,
so it's hard for me to take slow
walks in a romantic park.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not one to give romantic kisses,
at times a hopeless romantic.
One who won't argue when it comes to dishes,
but when you ask me why I love you, I may panic.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not someone to hit the dance floor,
I have two left feet.
Don't go out a lot of times, being at home alone is my norm.
Feel shy at times when I have to greet, and overthinking a lot of things.
At times I sell myself short,
but I try not to sell you dreams.

Awkward at love sometimes

Not one to easily click with your friends,
give me sometime to get to know them.
Never had the experience of having so many girlfriends.
Feel like a five when I'm dating a ten;
and express my emotions better with a pen.

Don't cry a lot, but when I do it's not a pretty sight,
Don't get angry a lot, but when I do it even gives me a fright.
Dressing formal isn't my kind of suit,
shorts and long sleeve shirts rolled, is my signature look.
Don't like to think too much about the future,
and at times don't like being called cute.  

I'm awkward at love sometimes,
so much so it's hard to disguise.

So can I least find someone to be awkward with me too.
lust dies but love survives
love|lust
lust|love
One kiss
One joke
Is all I know

A quick hello
And I had to go
But I can’t seem to let you go
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Dreamer 4h
No, it's not because I am scared
No, rejection is not the answer
Nor, a spineless coward
  It's just because You,
The pious Don't
Deserve Me,
The sinner.
I have come to the most titillating epiphany I have ever had
in my short
sorry life.

That I am not meant for love.

I am meant
as a warm body
a calming presence
a welcoming touch.

But not, for love.

Of 7 billion people in this world,
searching for that
elusive, ******* dream.

I am not,
and never will be,
it.
Love love love love love love love love love
I did not know that I was too young to think about life was much better and easier than we could hold on something tight when we did not have ability to try more and more, but still did it little by little.

I did not know that I was easy to fall in the same place in my own mind and needed more loves  than breaths and needed more life than lives, and needed more rooms than this universe.

I did not know that I was afraid of being brave in nothing.

I did not know that I was killed by the time, I was only a young boy with no weapon to fight and I was forced to join this battle.

I did not know that I was alone with myself, talked too much, and said, "The strongest will fall and die".

I did not know that I was only of the last part in every story that no body wants to.

I did not know that I was only too fall to feel, too calm to realize it was too easy to be a real.
Indonesia, 23rd June 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, in feels I sang in a dream:)


lipstick smeared on the wall

first one that I see at all

black tides just in my head

end of all the endings doesn't need a pretend

smoked slowed

wandered pondered

not in the mind reasoned

in the heart a door for every season

what for

eyes and more

same pose

me a symphony overdosed

kinda right

should've known from sight

hall grabbed chances and crowned

a red blood teared down

and drowned

fine lined

like twelfth hour dream blinds


                                                                        -----ravenfeels
Brett 7h
Down by the river I lie alone. Folks wade on the banks,
Sifting for gold. Washing the aches from their brittle bones.
This land of the forgotten, has never felt so close to home.
Detached from the blood-oiled machine,
Not much to part with, but
Every footstep carries with it
An imprint of meaning. The current here
Flows away from greed. Deposits into a reservoir,
Of pure intentions and peace. Tucked away from the cracked city streets
That mirror the crying streaks of those bewitched by the banal belief
Of progress by any means. Power here,
Is a drink for the weak. The outstretched arms of willow trees,
Cradle this quaint town. The last bastion of human passion. Bereft of malevolence.
Indeed, the realms of Hell seem to have a slice of heaven left.
Tucked away by a river there is a place of peace.
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