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I am 2 persons in one body
I pray to *** and I hate the church
I love myself and I hate my neighbor
I pray for the sick and I **** with my tongue

I am 2 persons in one body
I am a Christian and secret sin is my hobby
I work in the church and refuse duties at home
I respect the pastor and despise my parents

I am 2 persons in one body
different personalities I portray
you can summon the one you want
whenever you need it. Hot or Cold.
I am 2 in 1.
Becca Nov 7
lukewarm freckles berade my skin
like soldiers to the sea
lins Jan 22
I don’t feel too much,
of anything really.

I’m not really sad,
haven’t cried in a while.

I’m not really happy,
never getting excited.

Body and mind just living,
zoned out not focusing.

A human surviving,
but never enjoying life.

Not quite numb,
not yet anyways.

I don’t want that point to come,
but what can I do?
Silverflame Jun 2017
I take occasional sips
from my favorite mug that
I've poured chamomile tea into.
It's strange how we
change through the years.
When I was younger I hated
chamomile tea, since my mum
made it when I was sick.
But now, it's one of my favorites.
I guess my soul is sickened of the
mundane world I live in,
and it needs something to
clam it down.
Alice Baker Mar 2017
Our eyes met
Like magnets
Drawn in from a distance.
The way the beam from a lighthouse
Draws the attention of sailors.

Your gaze was instantly familiar
Like waking up to the smell of coffee
Or coming home from a storm.
Simultaneously bringing bright flashes
Of welcoming warmth and excitement.
I met a stranger, and it was like meeting home.
Jami Samson May 2013
Mild and right,
Just between 212 and 32 degrees Fahrenheit.
With temperate steam,
Giving off a little gleam.
Won't have you scalded,
Won't ever turn frigid.
Won't let you sink,
Will buoy you up when you're on the brink.
Although lukewarm,
Still the farthest thing from numb.
Never half-hearted;
Always spirited.
And I hope as you flow,
Your uniqueness, you won't forget to show.
#19, May.16.13
As my feelings for you blossom
Not into a warm sun-kissed flower of summer
But into a snowflake of cold and bitter winter
I see myself regretting, for you are a possum

An actor of sorts with a lukewarm feeling
A half-baked maniacal schemer
A specter conjured from **** yonder
And the person in which I had a one-sided loving

My hate for thee grows tenfold
It grows tenfold the times my love for you
It grows tenfold the tears I shed for you
It grows tenfold on every **** you told

And as my fire you left started to die
I will rise again as the ashes fly
I will move forward and not look back
I will swear onward and fight hate back

But...I see myself also in that lie
For this heart, no matter how shattered and dry
A paper thin husk of a once healthy guy
Deep inside it...my feelings for you won't die

No matter how hard I drench it with freezing water
No matter how long I submerge below a glacier
No matter how many girls and guys, I encounter
No matter how many flings and flirts, it's still a disaster

For no matter how lukewarm my feelings are for you
An actor of sorts like a lying possum
Inside the hollow echoing halls of my *****
It still and will not die out just for you

That little cinder, a tiny spark of hope
Keeping me warm enough to cope
That no matter how lukewarm it gets...
In this lonely winter, the warmth of you I'll never forget...
Hopelessly In love and in Pain. Poems of people who left me and still I cannot forget. :3
Sally A Bayan May 2016

A not too loud explosion pierced the quiet hours
..................immediately after......lights went out

Twelve midnight, and two minutes later
there gently blew, a whiff of cool air,
brushed past my cheeks and shoulders
but...that was it

Every hot, humid second of every burning minute
took too long to get out of my sweating body
the heat seemed stationary
in the stillness of this limited territory

Lukewarm water
flowed out of the shower
being wet.......was brief
it didn't bring much relief

It was cooler....out at the verandah
but mosquitoes are more active in the dark
the flickering candlelight
teased them all the more, this moonless night

This should be a good time
to ponder........to write
but my head feels limited...empty
swelling with something else, that is chilly
this silent.........uptight
uncomfortable summer night
...the hours, consumed with blight
a disappointment outright...

just waiting....for my eyes to give in
no longer defying,
but surrendering,
to the hot...humid
dark wee hours of the morning.


Copyright May 12, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...either too dark , or too bright...makes us, weary...
Erin Murphy Nov 2015
You know those lukewarm showers? The handle is turned all the way to what should be scalding hot and yet… nothing. The water is not cold, not freezing, not anything but tepid. How can you complain about tepid?
You don’t. You just wait to feel something, but the water doesn’t warm or cool you, just leaves you utterly unchanged. You stand there. For a long time. Feeling nothing. Like you usually do.

You know nothing very well. At night, you’ve curled up in bed with nothing. You’ve shared whispered secrets under covers with nothing. You’ve shared yourself with nothing. You’ve even recognized yourself as being nothing. nothing. nothing.
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