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Marhia Cruz Feb 2016
I still think of you. In my mind's eye and in my memory's grasp, you're closer than a scratch. You're simply there.
Impatiently pacing my memories and fantasies. My dreams are you and my thoughts are you. There is now nowhere I
haven't been touched by you. I've loved you and I've hated you. You enrage and you delight me.
My soul reaches out for you. Cries for you. It lives for you and dies for you. Everything.
Everything I have.
it's all you... You... yUo... YuO... YOU! It's all you! I'm left hopeless. But this only redundant rhythm gives me hope.
Where do you stand? (not with me) How do you feel? (not good) How would you feel if you knew this? (angry, disgusted)
Do you feel the same for me; always have me on my mind and never wavering from me? (impossible) But... you're not everything
to me. I can't allow that. You're simply... everything else. You're a thought. A memory. A good time.
You're a time I was elated. When I liked myself because you liked me. When I was something to someone.
You're what I could not see in myself. Confident and smart. Charming and cute. Loving and gentle. Someone important.
Someone who cares for me and about me. Some one who mattered. You're not everything, you see. But you're everything else.
In a way, this is personal. But it's just my thoughts and what I would like to spill into writing. Most of my poems are in this format, actually. I love spoken word poetry, and that's the rhythm and style I use my poetry as. It doesn't have to rhyme but it has meaning. it has rhythm, and it has life. That's what poetry is to me.

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