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emma Feb 2018
Sitting on that roof with you terrified me. It wasn’t the idea that I was sitting on the edge, seven stories from the ground or even the idea that if I did fall I would instantly die. No, that did not scare me at all. What scared me was you, sitting there across from me.  The feelings I have for you as I am sitting there seem way more frightening to me than actually falling to my death. I am unable to get my head around how irrational my fears are at that time. It would seem that the easier solution for me would be to make myself fall from that roof right then and there than to fall for you.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2018
Upon reading I stopped.
Savoring this touch.
I serached for narrative, your voice becoming my imagination.
I made this read much longer than intended.
Rereading each page minutes after the initial first.
We both paused.
Stumbling over each period.
Passage after passage the last chapter revealing just how beautiful everything is.
With neither joy or pain canceling each other out, both are necessary.
A paper cut made in haste.
Just as telling.
The intense angle each word represents.
The physical manifestation of not being able to move my eyes from the page.
Loud noises created in silence.
It seems real. Its chaos.
Four seasons coming into one.
This is life.
At least for me.
Rereading each volatile word finding vulnerability.
A sudden fear that rises.
A response that I over analyze in simplicity.
You write and I read.
A deeper motivation that isn't fear at all.
The pages collapsing in recommendation.
The intimate truth of holding everything in.
The cover hesitant of letting go.
All awaiting permission
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2018
But now we can communicate.
I am not sure what cause this sort of block.
Under normal circumstances I suppose it's human.
To access so much of ourselves mentally.
Yet physically remain mute.
An attempt to be funny. Charismatic.
To yearn the manifestation of being represented such as a memory.
For some it's easy. It becomes culture.
Ignoring this association of fear.
Although slight. We begin to judge ourselves.
In fight beyond a couple of seconds that leads to bliss.
The things that have yet developed.
The possibility that things may not.
But definitely something is there. Reflected from the light of eyes.
Self doubt in light of holding back.
Yet we've evolved.
We've evolved into a splitting image of what we adorn.
The critique of what eyes see & what ears have heard.
We've thought in different ways of what binds.
Now we communicate.
To better service our needs, our wants.
We've binged them all.
Knowing all of our favorite parts, to speak hesitantly about the bad.
We recite them only in private.
Ignoring the kick backs and *** lucks that begin with pleasure.
It begins with the closed culture of what feels foreign
to no longer recite in mental.
Now we communicate
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2017
I find humor laughing at how far we've come.
The differences seen out right between you and I.
Creating the shortcut separating us both.
Risking more distance. Taking that one proverbial step.
I laugh because of absolute generosity.
Placing different pieces of myself in you.
An extreme amount of disposition, watching our shadow take the step of paused feet.
Considering the first step, moving closer to you.
Doing the utmost in sincerity. Discovering that through true expression
you are me and I am you.
The parts of ourself that we keep hidden.
Still troubled.
Finding new ways to be completely honest.
Why not laugh, sharing whats felt on the inside.
Choosing instead the shortcut that sits right in front of us.
Short conversation that deny us both of how we truly feel.
A motivation found in the utmost of sincerity.
No longer pretending. Putting on a front that we see each other for who we truly are.
We see it clear as day but it's funny because we choose to ignore it.
Choosing instead to see what we choose.
Choosing instead to dwell in the past, finding reason to take a step back.
Letting our shadow dissipate.
Taking hold of how we truly feel.
Putting that selfish part of ourselves first.
A lack of communication no longer sincere in motion.
Not realizing that we're back to where we started
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2017
She was like a banana.
The best part of her was on the inside.
The amount of insulin I'd need trying to devour her whole.
God knows how much I love the thought of that.
The effect she'd have on me.
Each time I'd see her I'd unravel her piece by piece until all of her shown like never before.
The only problem was I was allergic to bananas.
Although her smell was intoxicating.
One taste of her and my throat would instantly swell.
Though I wouldn't prefer anything artificial.
I wanted the real thing.
When I revealed all of this to her she just laughed.
She laughed her *** off as a matter of fact.
Rocking back and forth.
Her little brown shoes clicking together.
Her yellow skin now a bit red.
Her freckles now in full view.
When I asked why she laughed she said its quite alright.
Most people I've met speak so highly of themselves.
Your the first person to admit you correctly know how to open a banana.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
In the midst of conversation A question rose out of the blue,
What would I do if such opportunity were to arise.
In a conversation about long term goals without hesitation or notion
Without any specifics given to her question I asked what opportunity.
She laughed slightly and repeated the question.
This time reaching inside of her chest and pulling her heart into a closer view.
She waited for reply.
I wandered around the look in her eye glancing back down at a now throbbing heart.
She said well, In a topic of long term ambition show me that I am not wrong about you.
I trust you well enough to do exactly what I know your about to do.
She stated nothing further.
With that being said I'd like to think that I made the right decision.
The openness of conversing about any and everything, the hint that actions speak louder than words.
I did what I suppose any sane man would do.
I flung myself into her chest and landed dead in the center of her heart without fear of missing.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2017
You are like the sea,
Truth be told there is no other way to put it.
The sound of silence covered in repeated sigh.
A total embodiment of things placed of collective wonderment.
What shall triumph the noise of wave overlapping wave.
Of all things calm you spread your presence,
Drowning in the bliss of serenity.
You and only you could create the quiet hush dreams are made of.
Although
Some tides are bigger than most, 
Of all times, not all are escapable.
Splashing against the shore in a bipolar like disorder.
Crushing everything it touches, selfish in nature.
For every action there is a natural reaction that displaces the initial action.
A need for finding peace in the eye of discord.
This is where your heart becomes a walking representation of the sea itself.
And I the jagged coast, cleansed of any disbelief that things won't get any better outside of the moment.
Pieces of myself lost in you. A constant movement no longer stagnant in thought. 
This is where I consider you the sea, the depth of your eyes covering everything it touches.
And I the boat lost in mid drift, without a care in the world.
A means of transportation exploring a depth of things I never knew to exist.
The things you keep hidden.
Far from the hindsight of eyes, your habits, things you reveal to be true given enough time.
The constant change that happens every moment of every minute.
Still it doesn't take away from it's beauty, the things kept hidden.
You are like the sea, 
A profound way of expression.
And I, the sailor. 
Watching the truth reveal, bit by bit.
Grace Urquhart Jul 2016
Sometimes
I decide to open up to you
But then
As soon at the words are out
I instantly regret
And I want to
Take them back
But I can't
And it makes my heart hurt
Because I'm vulnerable
I feel naked
And you know,
So then,
Of course,
Instead of telling you why
And possibly helping you understand
My fear of opening up
I cut off the conversation
It's gone
No use in talking to me anymore
I'm gone
And I stitch my mind and heart
And I run
Then you feel like you did something
Wrong
But you didn't
You were right
So right
I'm wrong
Then I go home
And the loneliness is back
And...
Where are my blades?
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