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cat 3d
us, as usual
laughter, Muse, Luca + Chris
a false welcoming
that you noticed first
nature's assault
memories of Saturn
that you noticed first
freezing time
I'll hold on to you
when the wind comes our way
that I'll notice first
a poem my mom wrote for me today, of a car ride this morning
If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 12, You.
I'm looking for ideas, can't be inspired by the world around me. My head is full of unwritten, unspeakable poetry only when I see you. My muse, almost. And I try to feel- and feel- and feel. But the scenery changes. You left. Take the blame for other's actions, and your own. And every time you leave my mind, somehow always inspire me. Wether it's your tears from reading my suicide note, or your laugh from, well, anything. And the "you" is so many people, so many ideas. Past, Present, Future. "You" is a broad understanding. It's 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or even more people. All the same, Yet so different. After such a short time, everyone leaves, and returns to my mind again. In so many different ways. The slightest is necessary. A tap on the back, and a wink. A smile, or a few tears. A hug, or guilt. My own depression. It's true what you said a few minutes ago. All my poems are tagged with depression. I'm just too sad for you, I thought. But i said; because uhh well I wrote those things a long time ago. I hear a lot; "I'm worried about you" aswell. I asked if it was a good or a bad sign that i did, and you said: A BAD SIGN OF COURSE! I laughed. Because maybe this isn't understandable, but enjoyable. Maybe the feeling, and the realisation people cared was the reason. Because it almost makes me feel happy seeing people cry. I'm a psychopath. And sometimes I see myself. And I Can't explain in words how much I hate myself for doing this to you, but mostly, for not being sorry. Don't be like me.
लगा आज फिर चाँदनी रात हे —२
चिढिया बोले तो हमने ए माना
दुर कही तुम आइ हो
आज फिर चाादनी रात हे —२

उस तरफ रोसनी नही थी
उस तरफ किसिका खयाल नही था
पर आज भी चाँदनी रात हे —२

चिडिया बोले तो हमने ए माना
दुर कही तुम आइ हो
हवावमे ए महेक आया तो लगा
दुर कही तुम आइ हो

दुरसे पास आकर कोइ चले
दिलको चैन जबभी मीले
लगा आज फिर चाादनी रात हे
आज फिर  चाँदनी रात हे

आज फिर चादनीँ रात हे —५
Genre: Gazal
Theme: Inspiring Muse
rgz Mar 17
blood drips from your lips to my fingers
my hands stealing kisses
leaving stains on your cheek
I see you, you swear
in the way your gaze lingers
as your tongue
Erato is one of the Nine Muses but I'm pretty sure I met one of her ancestors
Carmen Jane Mar 14
In warm grey matter, your masterpiece reigns,
Killer creations, pours deep in your veins...
If you stumble in sad heartbreaks, once more,
You  tell stories from which will spring folklore!

When planets align, unbeknownst to you,
Profound words, from your tongue drips,
Verses and titles are dancing on dew,
Rhymes are  trembling, on tips of your lips.
cat Mar 7
unlikely friend
remorse of the swelling tensions
us risen from the affair
we muse together
of our greater imbalance
the spontaneous occurrence
of our bewicked empathies
we were not designated
yet this path our own will
tiding foreign bodies to his shore
of befriending the girl my ex left me for, and discovering an unexpected, new sort of love.
Astral Mar 5
I don't know what to write,
But my hands itch
For the sweet release of poetry.

Just like the ears yearn
For the smooth symphonies,
Just like the eyes call
For the breathtaking beauties,
My hand reaches
For the blessed release of inspiration.
Eleanor Mar 4
Is it okay to write
About one thing solely
A thing that's holy
And seems so right

When you're the only one
That keeps my heart beating
And flooding and needing
Until I feel undone

You've broken and completed me
Mostly in one night
But there is no better sight
Than that of you to see

Surely there is more to life
Than pitiful feelings
Or tangential reelings
Paving for ultimate strife

Oh, muse, release me from your hold!
I can't sleep nor think
Nor eat and drink
Until the story of you is told
Whatever shall I do.
Alice Mar 3
Time is slipping through my hands.
Like sand, it glides and grinds against my palms,
Seeping back into the beaches of the forgotten,
Where all our ashes lie, waiting to become wroughten sandcastle—
The Paper Towns of Architecture.

Our hearts beat, and throb, and pulse,
Straining to out tick the tick tocking of the clock on the wall.
I see armies of pendulums standing in rows,
Waiting for Rome to fall as the sun doesn’t set,
And the North Star doesn’t show, so the vikings can’t row.

The bell tower won’t stop rattling against your heart
Even though you swear it’s been noon for five minutes.
I checked my clock and calendar, and even star charts,
And I can tell you there are not enough hours in a day
The same way that there aren’t enough phases of the moon
Or stars in a constellations of nightly plumes.

I’d like to rewrite the constellations,
Play connect the dots with those golden specks in the sky.
I’d hold a solar flare in a jar, just to show you the fireflies,
Even when they can’t fly.

As death creeps in through the cracks in the doors
And time slips out of the locks like visitors of here and past,
I am sure of one thing and fact that will last:
Our time is running out, that is without a doubt.
Inspired by Muse's song "Time Is Running Out" from their album "Absolution"
MAYBE I'll ask the Sun to stay high
Atop its perch for a little while,
So its rays may bathe you in a glow,
A radiance, with not an inch of shadow
To hide the elegance that's stood before me.

MAYBE I'll beg the stars to hide,
Take a night off from lighting the sky,
For your smile brings about the brightest shine.
Or implore them to do so with more vibrancy
So that we may dance beneath such beauty.

MAYBE I will do all of this, create
A day that will never fade, never age,
Capture just a fraction of the passion,
That raw, tangible attraction and affection
Into what MAY BE that one single moment,
That everlasting, timeless memory -
The very essence of
You and Me.
The by-product of planning a surprise for the muse.
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