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She got lost between the tangled nets of my memory.
Hartaz Kaur Apr 13
There are many of us
Yet few like us
Different tho we might be
Least we know our difference together

I felt alone
And you extended your solace
A comforting refuge
In fight and in counsel

Now my days fall silent
And I seek your voice
Have you indulging my quirks
Or chiding my folly

Try as I might
To fill this void
Words are spoken
Yet silence persists

Wherever you are
I miss you my friend
Wherever you are
You are but far
Some friendships will always remain dear
Esther Cee Apr 10
"Tell it to Jesus"

The first song we sang together,
I can still recall thy manly voice
As thou sung the verses with heavenly choice.

But thou left..

No nights I cry not
Because of thine sudden out
No other I can tell all the storm thou make me feel like loud raging bus..

But I have to tell them all to Jesus.
Thou art my deliverance.
Thou art my refuge.
Had a thicc fog,
had a dark bog
and its bad, bad
presence, manifest
and ****** me.

Here I thought it left me.

I think leaves me over,
over and over, again.

Had its tendrils
fill the holes full,
fill me with hope,
pull out suddenly
and depress me.

I thought it came for me,

turns out it does leave,
turns out it leaves,

most likely, when I need it.

Bright Beam,
I offer you refuge,
I offer you         my bad blood,
If you'll only do
What I need done
I offer you         my ill love,
I offer you deluge,
Bright Beam,

Fill me up.
Sim Apr 3
perhaps I was only a tribute to your pride
perhaps you sought refuge in moments of raw desire
perhaps the nobility of loving was too much to ask for.
Quinlyn Feb 10
Music is a refuge
A sanctuary
From the people looking down on you with disdain
From the worlds pain
From the people driving you insane
From the things worse than *******

From the people you can't trust
From the ones seeing only disgust
From the things you wish you wouldn't have discussed
From the moment you think you might combust

From the anxiety
From the peoples mood variety
From the bad notoriety
From the loss of sobriety
Music heals all
I could not wait for the rain to stop
Eager I was to feel its dampness
I stepped out and swiftly walked
Towards the thick mango-grove
Wanting those trees to drape me
With their strong and sweet aroma
But by the time I reached them
The scent of the earth sticking to me
Had all washed away from my skin
The downpour was indeed heavy

Tethered to the edge of existence
The boat meant for me to tide over
All forms of pain and joy stood still
Beyond the pithiness of vacant words
The darkness that exposed my cause
Laid bare my brittle bones deadly white
Blurred were my vision and the sense of touch
And I could not properly see or feel
Once again I had to seek refuge
I had to seek the dampness of rain
Kristaps Nov 2018
Palaces of ****** souls
have green neon text frames
standing sideways like arches;

divine arrows, they guide
the paternal flunks, the tar-soaked offspring,
the lonely and the business bunch.

Here in these palaces, all sin is a freeze, all
**** is a spin.
Fairy lights are often flagged in a net,

to catch mischievous mares flinging
themselves against the glass displays
of overpriced clothing shops.

One finds when wondering the perpetual
lines of restaurants and cafes, the vastness of them
having a motherly touch, for

these palaces, they stretch like the sky and
they spread like the shepherded
fire ants of Gaia herself

And when ones welcome is overbid
they need only to follow  the
evenly laid out,  sorrow yellow street lamps

and bite their cheeks and bare the frost
for soon the polluted lux will lead them to
an overnight joint, a limbo of sorts,

where they can breathe a new.
On those red leather sofas- fast food
or the district kind- when the night seems

to crawl on its final limbs,
they'll lay and slip into sleep.
Some say they never do wake, that they

wither with the moon and then
haunt the attics of the dance halls
where they swirled and laughed and lived

in a previous life.
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