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imparo Sep 2
You and I
have a story
behind closed doors,
sneaking at night,
stealing kisses,
secretly holding hands.

But you and I
both know
this story
shall never be told
not even to a single soul.
letmebeanon Jul 19
Confused and depressed
Not knowing what comes to life next
A promise that started so beautifully
He changed, and now, is he really ending it this slowly?

In the dark, while I savor the pain
I longed to be happy and then you came.
At a brisk, I let you in
Consumed my mind and invaded my soul.

Your eyes, I couldn’t help but stare
Your voice, that became music to my ear            
I wish the time was longer – that’s a shame
Why did I meet you at such a wrong fate?

How can I tell him about you?
You belong to someone else while I do too.
Albeit amiss, the times with you felt nothing but right;
Never was I this proud of the wrong, never in my life.

Lost with bewilderment, who does my heart choose?
HIM, the person that I have learned to love?
Or YOU, the person that suddenly caught my heart?
I’m guilty of even having to question myself that.

The negative thoughts, the guilt, the constant fear.
It has now started drowning me in.
I realized, this affected him and I wanted to do the right thing.
So, I had to choose him.
I wrote this October 2017.
July 2019 - (the person I chose left me) - Karma.
Ally Van Amstel Jul 2018
Your eyes
are time capsules in my mind.
The memory of you there,
fingers lingering through my hair.
Begging me
to lock my lips with yours.
I posed from a distance,
sipping on my infidelity.
How it made its way
lasciviously
across your body
so meticulously,
intentionally
imploring you to want me.
You asked,
but I didn't know what to say
so I just kissed you.
I still see you sometimes
in the peripherals of my mind,
though the contours of your face
are beginning to blur as they do
with any beautiful stranger.
I can't tell whether the image of us
is a painting or a picture:
something I've carefully constructed
or a moment merely manifested.
But I do know
that it was the blue in your eyes
and the white in my lie
that had me stay til dawn.
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
I said it was not meant for me,
But what did I mean?
For any youth, any love,
Whose prey who might be,
On whom you’d lean,

In your semi-corseted skirt,
Or dressed full fig.,
Stalking into town,
Shocking men in wigs,
Luring them into false love,
As others had been?

Would you capture me,
Chaining my soul to your heart,
So I must carry on playing
At your command?
I see your dress under the piano,
And your boots and pantaloons;
The piano is not my voice,
Though you insist it is.

I shot a drunken man for you,
Which made me more your slave.
You woke urges I suppressed,
Too strong for one so frail.
With words you pushed me
But caused music to pour
From me as love did.

A storm of disapproval raged all round
Our Paris nest of love and art,
You came and went like a soldier, shielding us,
And at home you urged me on,
To impromptu inventions,
Yet causing us to depart.

Packed into a cabochon,
You shanghaied me,
Away to Majorca
And the wintry sea.
Your searing love and the island’s cold
Were too much for me,
And I escaped with my art.
This was inspired by the film "Impromptu", about the affair between Frederic Chopin and the writer, George Sand, or Armandine Aurore Lucille Dupin. She had many lovers, mostly other writers and artists. Her love for Chopin was excessive and she pursued him aggressively. Once they became lovers, she insisted that his illness (tuberculosis) was due to lack of activity and fresh air and kept luring him out of his little apartment. He supposedly had a duel with her latest lover, but fainted, George picked up his gun and shot the lover, not fatally. She convinced Chopin that it was he who had wounded the man, then overcome by his violence, he had passed out. This seemed to make him feel more manly and open to seeing himself as a ****** being and not just a frail ghost. She and Chopin were together for ten years, but when she took him to Majorca for a year, things did not go well and he left. Mind you, I'm talking about the film, not an actual event, though it may have happened.  Hugh Grant played Chopin and Judy Davis was a great George Sand.
LionTreeMan Jan 2018
Every time I saw you from across the room,
all I wanted to do was kiss you;
feel your lips against mine;
but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Your beauty called to me,
so unexpectedly,
but I couldn't bring myself to let the love transfer over;
to show you how deeply I felt.

So instead,
we became best friends.
We did everything together;
told each other everything.
We shared a different, rare kind of intimacy.
And, all the while, I felt constricted.
I felt my throat lock up
from the inability to share,
to show you.
I felt wrong,
like I wasn't supposed to.
Yet all I wanted to do was explore;
explore your body against mine;
explore us together,
as one.

And I'm sorry.
Sorry for the confusion,
sorry for the mixed emotions.
While we shared so much connection,
the huge questions mark lay across our relationship;
like a dilapidated bridge,
keeping me from crossing to the other side -
from holding you,
and kissing you.
From feeling the love we both shared, fully.

And I'm sorry that we drifted apart.
But, then again,
you are the one who disappeared from my life.
You are the one who didn't answer my calls.
Yet, I am still sorry;
for putting you in the middle of that dilapidated bridge;
for not allowing you in.

Maybe you had no choice
Maybe you felt rejected.
But I want to say thank you for giving me a chance.
Thank you for allowing me to feel comfortable -
as much as my mind allowed me to be, anyway.

When you disappeared it hurt.
But, after much reflection, I understand.
I understand why you had to go.

So, again, I'm sorry.
But just like you let me go,
it is now my turn to do the same.
Because it hurts,
and I don't want to hurt anymore.

Just know,
that I still think about those moments,
when holding myself back.
Seeing you across that living room,
all I wanted was to kiss you so bad;
to fully experience our unexpected love affair.

Thank you for opening my eyes.
I love you.
Goodbye.
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