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The other may be taller -
The other may be older -
The other may be more,
but that doesn't mean
that you are any less -
S/he loving you? All that
means that s/he sees more
so much more, in you too
so stop questioning the love
and just love, love them to death,
and so much more so beyond.
Twenty third June twenty sixteen
The biggest vote we’d ever seen
Results are in and Brexit win
and many say it’s such a sin
Those who voted not to leave
This news they just could not believe

Sore losers showed their  bitter anguish
soon from Europe we would vanish
Let’s vote again remainers say
'No vote again' says Theresa May

Our country voted in or out
and voted out without a doubt
The apple cart tipped on its head
Britain in Europe would soon be dead
Now Brexit was born the following morn.
This beautiful kingdom from Europe be torn

Remainers are mad while leavers are glad
Great Britain is out there is no doubt
So shut up remainers, accept what is done
We voted together and Brexit won
Nylee Oct 9
When it was midnight and
   we had nowhere to go.

When it was sunshine and
  we had nothing to show.

When it was raining
  we were down in pool.

When it was winter
  we were too cool to be cool.

When in May
  we finally found the shelter.

When in December
  we lost another member.

When finally things went well
  we saw another loss.

When things went south
  we took another toss.

When sun rose again
  we didn't trust its light.

When the night spread
  we lived in its moonlight.
fearfulpoet Sep 26
objects in the distance may be closer than they appear  

how many thousands of times
these words mirrored blankly upon my eyes

only today did I-read them accurate

from the nowhere    from a great void
someone stepped and lifted me from a
rubbled prone
where there were no options
asking for nothing
over and over I beseeching

now I see
in the mirror
those words

I see only them
in the heart human
the object so close
it writ upon my face
Blade Maiden Aug 21
  I don't believe in
  everything is subjective
  even hearts have their own perspective

  You gave me an
  of things that
  be the transparent you
  let's be risible true

  Am I visible to
  are my hands reachable
  Is my brain a beautiful mess
  Anything else to confess?


  It's all a little
         so and so
  Nothing to be ashamed of
  Even if there will be love

  can be quite

  But that's okay
  I might as well stay
  for a little bit longer. Or more.
Laura Aug 19
Sometimes I still can't believe
I was ****** enough to take you back
After the way you treated me the first time around
Acting like that **** doesn't matter
Like it never happened
Like I never cut myself
Thinking about you
Like I never ate my way through $20 worth of McDonald's
Crying over you
Like I never tried to take too many pills
Trying to get you out of my head
Like I never ****** other people, picturing you
Because I still loved you
Like I never wrote hate letters to you
Remembering the pain like it's fresh
Like I never stayed up all night screaming into my pillow
Missing the **** out of you
I took you back like none of that happened
Because that's how much I ******* love you
That's how much I missed having you
You ****** me beyond belief
But all I wanted
Was to have your love again
To have you again
Call me ******
Or your girlfriend
Same difference
duncan Aug 18
i should feel blessed
to have things to miss.

i only feel lucky,
and rather empty

to have something
to miss
is to have something
to lose.

i am stubborn.
i am a sore loser.

i will circle dates
like a child to chirstmas
for Orion,
and for May.

so until we feel
the sun and its heat.
i bid you adieu
and my love from afar.
ill be waiting
Sharon Talbot Aug 15
Rampant, errant fog
Along a river’s shore,
Once caressing silt and log,
But it vanished just before

The stolen, wayward plumes
Along the glistening sand,
Kissed and missed the ground,
Then fled into a different land.

Mist surrendered fast,
Beneath spears of lowering light,
And silver swords that fight,
Shivering silver into glass.
And Dawn lay down at last.
Driving over a bridge one morning, I saw along the small river, sunbeams shifting through trees along the bank, filtering through rising mist. It was magical!
What was that noise stirring in the darkness of my room?
Is that a voice?
Or maybe it's just my mind?
Morphing the sound of the fan into mumbling whispers.
Shadows becoming my bottled up fears.
Distant screams from the past.
Leaving me troubled,
and alone.
And as the flashes of light subside,
and the sounds are covered by the chirping of summer birds,
I'll forget my terrors of the night.
Forget the vision caused by my rotten imaginations.
Forget the scent of carrion pouring out of my head.
Maybe it's just my rotten imagination
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