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Cat Lynn Oct 31
Well, guess what?
I'm really completely broken apart inside
thrown and shattered into tiny pieces that lie
This is just am outside cover...
Unconditional love both ways. Ref 018
Unconditional love both ways.
Now I do my part and you do yours
Chastise me if you need to but hold
On to this thought .There is no flaw.
Now if it's unconditional it's mutual
Don't you think that is most fair ?
I love and respect my darling girl
That said I know she loves me too
I hope our lives will last forever
On every occasion in storm or calm
Naturally in sickness and in health
And for better and of course worst
Love has to be that way not maybe

Love has to be ALWAYS not fickle
Otherwise many conditions fail.
Very often respect is sadly lost
Eruptions of rage always forgiven

By one that loves unconditionally.
One that adores his darling girl.
The one that wants you day n night
Happy in the knowledge of love.

Where would we find a better mate
A mate that can display love 24/7
Year in Year out unconditionally
Simply look me in the eyes n know.
Philip ... Written 24th January 2017.
This poem was originally written 24th January 2017
Posted on 1/10/18. The 17th Day of my grief.
Amanda Oct 24
I miss your beautiful blue eyes
Your sweet addictive kiss
The pain and sadness of loving your broken soul
Is one part of you I will never miss
I think it's important to realize you can miss something and not want it back
Lewis McCleod Sep 25
Now that I've no life to lose, midnight blues and chipper *****,
Wake me from a battered bruise and never leave me standing still—
Liver-filling ghosts refold, despite the feud of fuel; behold,
The lass who ridiculed me told a bold-faced lie in scolding shrill.
I muttered in disgust and said, "What unbased lies in scolding shrill!"
Cold reply, I felt a chill.

"I am not a woman trifled, rife with lies in trill that stifle
Full of sullen stuffing eyefuls! Let me live my life I killed.
Underbid my value capped at seven dozen bottles tapped—
Revitalize, relapse, adapt to find another day of thrill."
Her rifle points along the door. And I've no doubt she wants a thrill.
Gritting teeth, I shut it still.
I stole The Raven's rhyme scheme. Part one, I suppose!
Julian Delia Sep 23
The natural order of all things –
The love and joy that connection brings.
The beautiful smile of a human that feels loved,
That ear-to-ear grin that warms the heart for a good while,
The kind that makes bearing life’s chagrin worthwhile.

I bet you thought of someone, just now –
A face your mind instantly sought, somehow.
The language of love –
It is hardly expressible just through words,
It is only accessible through bridging two worlds:
The realm of loving your soul,
And the realm of accepting humanity as a whole.

Eyes that twinkle like stars,
Hearts that mingle in nights spent diving in bars.
The freedom to open your mind,
A kingdom of your own,
Away from the wilfully blind.

Give yourself a reason to live,
**** religion, be a heathen,
You have everything to give!
Let go of that which serves you not,
Flow with whom deserves to share your life’s plot.
Dance to rhythms,
Sing along to your favourite song!
Be colourful,
Like light passing through prisms,
Lose yourself in the heat of the throng!

Let your mesmerising heart shine and glow,
Let go of the overanalysing,
Let your fear head on over to death row.
Gladden the world with what you bestow,
Madden those who do not wish to grow.

The language of love, the syntax of affection;
The essence of life, its most crucial section.
To drink from its fountain is all that counts,
A divine link capable of moving mountains,
A storm to end all droughts.
I've been meaning to write this for a very long time.
Jewel Vanilli Sep 11
And then he didn't come back

The summers passed, autumns faded, winters roared, and springs bloomed but he's nowhere to be seen.

As she made her way to the shore, she felt the gentle breeze and the embrace of the waves and as she looked up; she saw the moon alone in the vast nothingness of the sky with no star to keep her company.

She remembered him, thinking that maybe the stars are gone for the moon is too broken and is not as illuminated as it was the first time.

Then she remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. His eyes shone so bright, held much admiration in his gaze that she couldn't understand for she is nothing sort of a goddess the moon had blessed.

None of her poems caught the light and the life in his eyes when they first met: of how it looked silver and storm that reflects his turbulent emotions, of how his eyes reached the depths of her soul with his gaze, of how he saw her as his moon.

None of them could ever describe how his eyes demand to be stared at. None of them.

But then, he was a fleeting light like a poem you will only read once for it is blindingly painful that it hurts looking the second time.

And now, she feels a part of her is missing as she search for the stars up above.

And then she fixed her gaze, closing her eyes to the moon: wishing that when he said "It's because of you." He doesn't mean goodbye. Wishing he doesn't mean she's the reason why he's gone. Wishing that dreams aren't supposed to be just dreams for when they become reality, they take away the magical feeling.

A few tears escaped her closed lids and glistened as they bathe on the light of the moon as she thought of the last poem she'll ever write to him.

And then she finally whispered hoping the wind will bring it to him:

" And maybe,
   paintings and poetry
   couldn't hold a candle
   To every emotion
   we once had.

    hold a key
    when we
    first met.

    I should've known
    that that key
    is not for me

    For I
    was never
    your home. "
Entry # 2 To the Book I Will Never Write
Its so beautiful,
the part of missing each other.

The part of love.
Luiz Aug 20
He was the kind
that would
burn alive

for the one
to ignite
his soul!

and he did...
ethan gaskill Aug 15
things that i should
have said to you
ping pong around my brain
like hail in a tube
they’ll spill right out
“why do i always have to ruin
a good night out?”
“i’m sorry, i have to break up with you”
and then she just walked away
perfectly innocuous to an onlooker
but to me she was a hurricane
ethan gaskill Aug 15
i’ve written bout you
so many times
i can barely read my poems
without crying
i imagine my notebook
rolling its eyes
knowing what’s coming next
cause i’ve said it a thousand times
“when will you be over her?”
“when will your cuts scab over?”
“when will your wounds go away?”
never, they echo silently in my brain
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