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Missing you,
is like my second nature now,
But on the day we meet again,
I know,
We will pick right from where we paused,
And will walk together our journey,
To the one I miss the most . . .
Shakti Asana Jun 17
Wait for me.

I will make it worth your while.

I dream of you

Your face lit with the afternoon sun

Coming into my arms

Smelling of freshness and wonder

To hold your hair in my hands
To taste your lips once again

Wait for me.

My darling.

maryem May 24
I will always remember
That day
When I saw u
In front of me
When U hugged me
How I felt warm
Like my bones and yours
Were melting
And became one
I wanted that moment
To be eternal
My little cold bones
Are still waiting
For another breath-stealing reunion
So they can feel alive
And full again
I was here :)
The Sky Was Turning Blue
by Michael R. Burch

Yesterday I saw you
as the snow flurries died,
spent winds becalmed.
When I saw your solemn face
alone in the crowd,
I felt my heart, so long embalmed,
begin to beat aloud.

Was it another winter,
another day like this?
Was it so long ago?
Where you the rose-cheeked girl
who slapped my face, then stole a kiss?
Was the sky this gray with snow,
my heart so all a-whirl?

How is it in one moment
it was twenty years ago,
lost worlds remade anew?
When your eyes met mine, I knew
you felt it too, as though
we heard the robin's song
and the sky was turning blue.

Keywords/Tags: love, reunion, reconnecting, rekindling, desire,  renewal, attraction, kiss, winter, embalmed, spring, hope, resurrection, happiness, joy
Aidan May 6
It’s the place where we float in the sky
Feel free from all the worries
Feel free from the burdens life has set
It’s the place where we can let go,
Fall from the cliff
Spread our wings
Soar far and wide.

It’s where eternal happiness resides,
Where nothing is everything and
Everything is nothing
Then the long awaited reunion can finally happen that has been years in the making.

Joy radiates from you and them and it seems unattainable but it’s a matter of believing you can.
You now can relive what has lost
You now can rejoice in talking to those once lost.

This is the place where the shadows can no longer hold power over you,
For they have disintegrated from existence.
For they have submitted the themselves to the light of a new day.

This is a place of dreams.
It truly feels like heaven to me.
by Michael R. Burch

Now twice she has left me
and twice I have listened
and taken her back, remembering days

when love lay upon us
and sparkled and glistened
with the brightness of dew through a gathering haze.

But twice she has left me
to start my life over,
and twice I have gathered up embers, to learn:

rekindle a fire
from ash, soot and cinder
and softly it sputters, refusing to burn.

Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: relationship, reunion, reuniting, parting, breakup, breaking up, fire, embers, soot, cinder, cinders, sputter, sputters, sputtering, cold, ash, ashes
My first dream of father was in a quiet June night,
After nine Augusts and ten months more since
When his gentle heart stopped dancing to the
Rhythm of mortality and His soul passed away.
That sleep was one I wished I never woke up from.
Wherever we go when sleeping, it was far homely
And laying there was like buried in white flowers.

I just finished the first decade of my life when death
Felt jealous enough to take Him away from Mother.
But in that dream, my height was as his, or closer.
As we walked a stony path of my neighborhood –
I can’t remember vividly but like he had his
Left arm around me like a cloak depicting care.
He moved His face east-south away from me and
He warned me of women, Like He warned with
Reference to a shameful deed in his time spent on
Why would He come back just for that?
The answer I sought was bigger than my naive –
Teenage spirit back in '017, I reckon.

To a Monday January night I was born, delivered
By the two skilled medical hands of darling father.
His too soft a heart I inherited, His kindness I wear,
Yet I used to carry anger towards Him for leaving,
Then the anger turned towards God for taking,
Then towards me for being angry towards Father
Then it graduated into melancholia and wishes too.
I wish to meet Him again. Or even in a lucid dream.
I wish he is here to listen to my not so good poems.
I wished I had never woke up that quiet June night.
And till today, I still share my memories of Him
With my pillows when they make a home for my head
As a harbinger for a goodnight sleep.
True story
The who I have become ..

Sometimes it's quite forlorn to be extensive with words in ur head, never can one be able to utter them, I feel so frustrated, I guess I will just have to train myself to be outspoken, no matter how well I train myself to be outspoken, can never be enough.
Can't tell how got here, but he is loving it..
But avoid loving it just a little too much, else you get lost in what's never really yours.

There are words I don't think I can utter at the moment, the who I have become.. But that's fine..

One who foster too many words but hardly say a word.. But that's lovely..
One who spent hours with himself searching for knowledge, stealing a glance at the sunset, half blurry half full moon.
Lost in admiration ere interrupted by a shooting star..
One consciously or unconsciously programmed to be congruent with societal or cultural influence..
One whose formed series of programmed strands which governs it's existence without being the programmer...
One whose mistakes uncountable yet still much to make, learnt so much yet learnt nothing..
One formed from nothingness into somethingness of impulses and desires, never ending desires that leads to absolute emptiness...
Like one left in lurch in the middle of a spacious dry desert, dehydrated, so weary of taste.
Continuous increase in weariness of taste by the passing seconds.
Continuous search for an oasis to quench his hankering, yet only find mirages which only increases his taste.. Buts that's still fine..
Open books all day and night in a constant note..
All with the one message harmonize yourself with the oneness of God..
Yet so many dogmas and misconceptionists spreading mischief for their selfish gains..
The who he became..
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