you walk on an abandoned railway its dark and you can't see anything but your know they're there people in front of you behind you, on every side of you holding you like you're something dear, someone important that they can't bear to lose it's a ghost town. you might as well be blind but you still balance on the tracks, someone is holding your hand at home your mom is making dinner while you eat a clementine and nothing makes you happier than this clementine so you consider planting a seed but it would die anyway because it's a ghost town. but there are no ghost, not really it's just history and it's begging you to keep yourself sane.
He came over... We spoke... One of the few Blasts from my past Red wine Poured out in a glass In substitution Of how I poured My heart out To potential Which did not last... At last... We spoke. And what I thought For a split second Could be some kind of Re-ignition to my fine Cashmere woods scented Candle wax... Instead became an unsteady flame Over a firmly molded Candle frame Of a woman... Who has had enough. We spoke... About what he saw as a memory I saw as trauma And there was no more tears To be cried Over his baby mama drama And that his words Fell on deaf ears When he said he can lend an ear Because a promise is that to a fool And a fool... I no longer bared... I am in love... And although that love Had not come alive And although that love Is what I will seek Till the day I die... And that love is the only love Worth years of tear drops From my eyes... I am in love... We spoke... I never meant to end up so cold I never meant to make your ego Feel like a joke I didn’t even mean To invite you to my home... But at last... We spoke No longer my Prince Charming This princess was now Anointed as Queen And this Queen awaits a true King And it takes more than a hug And a kiss on the cheek To make me weak It takes more than You telling me of my beauty Which took me your absence to seek ... your assurance my darling... I **** sure don’t need... I am in love... With a man Whose actions Speak louder than his words Who pushed me Through my darkness Who struck chords of movement Who got me to love... And actually mean it... Who saw my poems... AND ACTUALLY READS IT.... We spoke... And in that moment I realized... I don’t need a title... I just need to exist. Don’t say it... Feel it... We have spoken. .
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