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Destiny C Jun 14
Zoloft,
This is a love letter.
Please do not get this confused.
You & my serotonin became infused.
I love you,
But I love you not.
It's almost like my old self,
That I forgot.

You take away the pain.
Only some of it,
The rest remains.

But I love you more than you know,
You've helped me in ways that don't show.

You are the drug that I've been chasing
Coke,
Acid,
Alcohol,
Need some replacin'..

But-
I hate your manipulation,
They way you think I need you,
Everyday,
No hesitation.

You starve me.
You beat me.
Make me physically weak..

But instead of leaving you,
I take you everyday,
Every week.

Because of you,
I've stopped & smelled the roses,
Had my first smile in awhile,
Took some pictures,
Held some poses.

But yet,
I know this can't go on forever.

I'm not sure when our last kiss will be,
Sometimes I only feel you & me,
Other times I feel the urge to leave

But I'll stay with you for now,
Because I don't know better.

The only reason I'm alive,
Is because you help me survive.
Sia Morweng May 30
Love,

Why don’t you come already?
My patience is frail;
Breathing its last moments.

Waiting for you
Has made this woman
Intolerable to herself;
And staring at the moon
While its not out many nights
Is no longer a bandage

When you’re met by the tree out front
With bottles for leaves
Don’t be disheartened
To see you often,
I switched water for my kickstarter

Please,

Get on the road already
Its now winter
The sun is no longer bothersome
I’ll hold out till summer
So I’ll be ready with a bouquet
I can give you that much time.

The gifts you sent
Have lived many lives
And their ghosts,
Are on every corner of the house
Telling me they’re impatient to leave

When you’re met by many holes on the lawn
We’ll patch them after we’ve kissed
Long after we’ve had many kisses
siamorweng.wordpress.com
daphne Apr 6
you call me a coward
for confessing my heart
through a piece of paper
rather than with my lips
perhaps because
ink dries much faster
than these tears do
acetone can disguise the truth
at the tip of my ballpoint pen
and paper may be shredded
for these feelings to cease
Keyana Brown Apr 6
Let's
just
stop
everything
I want to be
with you

Let's
just
cancel
our
separate
plans
There is something
we'd rather do
is to be
~together

Let's
not
wait
Let's
not
wait
anymore
I will travel
a million miles
to see you
once more
Lord, I can
be more sure

Let's
pick a date
pick a place
I want your love
I want your
sweet embrace
never leave me
don't give me space

For our love
could be misguided
please let us be reunited
~*again
anna Nov 2020
so call me tonight.
lets sing the songs of summer romances
and make plans we'll never follow through.
listen to me pluck the chords of this scratched up acoustic,
humming the lyrics that only i know apply to you.
letters to the new boy - pt1
Restu Taurina Mar 16
you tell me all the ways that you love
and it chills me
to think you're thinking so much of me
while i'm still picking up the pieces
trying to breathe

i was so sore
from all the bruising that love gave me
in that aching breaking nonsense of before
broken beyond the broken of a time
before i met you

but it feels so warm when i call you baby
to call you nightly
to be calling you at all
and so comforting for me to need you so deeply
want you so freely
to let loving you be all that keeps me
warmer now
and closer than
i've ever been
to feeling so sure
love letter for my loved one
Zara Feb 27
Your heart has grown cold,
This love is bad for my health.
I felt rejected, felt unwanted, felt unneeded so I,
Wrote a love letter to myself.
honestly would recommend doing this to anyone, especially anyone struggling right now, treat yourself kindly always
How ironic,
To write poetry
That speaks of
Love
As if it were a familiar friend.
I write the thoughts to large and complex to store in my head alone.
I have not yet found
'My person.'
But I write as if we have known eachother forever.
Maybe,
In the end there is no one for me.
But until hope is lost,
I write about you.
A person that I haven't met.

My person.
I love you, whoever you are.
hello dear,
I hope you’re on your way, 
hope you’re somewhere near.

I’m getting better, day by day,
and I just want you to know,
that I’m tired of waiting,
but I’m doing okay.

and I know that soon we will meet
and our souls will fall in love,  
so our life can be complete.

so dear, 
I hope you’re on your way, 
hope you’re somewhere near.

and if you’re currently working on yourself too,
you might be my man, my hubby, my boo.

so please don’t give up,
just keep moving.
I’m writing these lines,
because I know there is someone for me, too,
just like in the movies.

so let’s keep going,
keep growing
until the day we can water each other.

I’m searching for you, lover.

and I’m always excited,
while the story extends,
‚cause my favourite movies,
are the ones with happy ends.

- gio -
Martin Narrod Dec 2020
Dearest Britni,

I was warmed by your thermal tub, the belly of your indiscretions and the way you held those mule-hearts
in plastic jars beneath the cupboard where your favorite cups and coins were kept.  The magic beat of your fingertips made my skin jump crazy out of my shirt and pants.  I wonder if the turnover has always been this way for you, meaning to say, when the trips always ended did you take back the second pillow into the other room, where your ivory curtains opened, and did you feel the need to lock the door to your bedroom.

The word, 'house guest' implies less visitation privileges than actually took place.  I believe it was more of an involved visit.  There were certainly visitation privileges but there was also visitation writ.  I had to keep my jeans clean.  There were no shoes allowed in the bed.  And extracurricular activities were kept to their time tables-- that is to stay that spontaneity occurred only when it fit into the time table.  I was never much for making you lunch in the morning.  It has always been difficult for me to think of the meals before they happened, though I knew what was in every drawer, every closet, every cabinet.  The insides and outs of a decade of dreams.

In short time I became mesmerized with the perfect patterns in your arms and on your legs.  I could crook my head in a way to look at the sunset from under your arm or stand on a chair to look down at the top of your head.  And then one day you told me I was weird.

This time I wanted to be fulfilled.  I did not want to miss a thing.  I made sure to slide my fingers in between your toes, I squeezed the bottoms of your feet with the bottoms of my feet.  There are many recitals, many performances, and even more personal encounters that cannot be recalled to mind, but I am sure they happened.  If I had the opportunity I would attempt to pick your nose again.  Something I did every chance I had though you abhorred it.  To lick the side of your face, the bottom of your chin, the interior of your armpit, the lengths of your legs, and the rims of your lips-- I lived our life to the fullest.

All interactions were encouraged.  We played in sunlight, in nightlight, during day showers, and ate by the seaside.  We traveled to four states, two lakes, and two oceans.  We drove in excess of 20,000 miles, received fifty-seven parking tickets, five speeding tickets, thirty-five thousand two hundred eighty four compliments, fifty-two salutations, fifteen, "you're an adorable couple," three hundred complimentary access, two free tickets to a museum exhibition, took over one hundred fifty flights between the two of us, and received your father's permission.  We slept in showers, swam in baths, and drank from swimming pools.  We shared the bathroom, the bed, and the kitchen sink.  I memorized how many times you rolled over when sleeping, and you told me what I talked about in my sleep.  I knew the five places you lived at and the four places you wanted to.  We danced in nightclubs, in bars, in schoolyards, in back seats and bedrooms, and ballrooms.  There were fifteen black tie events, one wedding, and over two hundred concerts.  I wrote over fifty thousand poems made over three hundred paintings, and took somewhere around twenty-eight thousand pictures.  I once took you to breakfast every morning for a week and dinner every night.  I bought you one hundred twenty six cups of coffee, fifty-two cocktails, and one Shirley Temple.  I only had to help you change clothes thrice, but I helped you undress over a thousand.  I always remembered to lift up you hair if I helped you put on a jacket, and never made you walk on the street side.

There were over 2,000 bands and artists I introduced you too.  You taught me about fashion, about photography, about being a good person.  We sang in the shower, sang in the car, whispered before falling asleep.  I sent you dozens of flowers and you watered them all.

In my favorite yellow chair I do not have any regrets or any wants.  I fulfilled a life time in two years.  I was an upstanding gentleman, always.  And then out of the blue you didn't want me to touch you anymore.  One time in an airport in DC we ran 48 terminals to see each other again.  You taught me not to be afraid of flying, that it's important to be myself.  And when it ended the first time I wrote you two letters a day for three months.

Tomorrow when I wake up I will make the bed, put the music on, smoke a cigarette, then take a shower.  Afterwards I will get dressed, grab my belongings and go get four shots of espresso like I have been doing every day for the past five years.  Everything will be the same.  At the end of the day, after work, after listening to a plethora of music, talking to a plethora of people, I will not talk to you.  After two years two years and 2,163 phone calls, I will not talk to you for two days in a row.  I will lay in my bed and count the mews, but I miss the weight on the mattress, the heat of your whole, the temperature of your voice, and the redolence of your perfume, but I will have no regrets when I rollover thrice, to the right, to the left, and to the right.
A letter written to a love of my life, written 10 months after lasting seeing one another, but still speaking by phone, the thoughts and imaginations were running rampant.
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