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Seeing you and her together would certainly scathe a lot
It is seeing the epitome of everything we're not
But may be better than not seeing you at all
Except in the photographs hanging on my wall
You sent a message (I haven't bothered to read)
The first three words;
"Amanda I need"
No apology for torturing me bad
That made me pretty mad
I've liked always talking to you
Was on a ledge with a helluva view
But I am determined never to jump
I'm not going to hit the ground with a thump
I will not let you control me anymore
Best way to do that is to ignore
I hate the way I am under your magic spell
There's nothing that can save me from this hell
Seeing is believing...
George Krokos Nov 2023
Where small minds gather there is bound to be
trouble brewing and people who don't see.
From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
George Krokos Oct 2023
Looking back at what's happened is hindsight
looking into the present moment is insight
looking ahead into the future is foresight
but looking in all three ways at once
is all-seeing; OMNISCIENT and
the way that God would see.
Glory and praise to You
Oh Lord. Please bless,
guide and protect
us all now and
forever more
Written early October '23.
The last seven lines in the form of acknowledgement and prayer added while posting.
Dee Bach Aug 2022
She had seen him a million times in her life. He was at her wedding as she married a different man. He stood at the altar and supported her as he always did.

So why was this time different? They spoke to each other in a way they hadn’t in a long time. She laughed in a different way, as she knew she would always be in love with this man.

So when he said “I wanted to kiss you” it made sense why her mind spiraled out of control. She, a married woman, loved this man, but he was taken by another woman.
Mark Wanless Dec 2021
internal seeing
is formed by external things
look around close now
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
Born to the veil
peeled out like a peach with the old iron knife
rose quartz, slow flesh, thin newness in January air.
His grandmother kept the caul for luck
pressed between the pages of her bible
and the old ways.

His silvern eyes mirrored the tarnished coin his mother slipped in to his fist
at christening.
Droplets of hope, heavy on small lids
and when he lifted them
he saw his first ghost
over the priest’s shoulder,
her gauzy lips grazing his cheek.

His luck was the vaporous three-legged dog that followed him everywhere.
Its dusky warmth on his feet,
the comfort he could not sleep without
for there were too many nights
his dreams had the flavor of ash and mire
and he would wake, panting,
the heat of his fear snatched by the cold nights.

In the village
the girls asked him who they would marry
until he told the raven-haired her sailor floated somewhere in the Atlantic,
the ring he bought her in Portugal
resting on a finger of coral.

The white heather his mother tucked in to his cap
stayed green, even past the dream of her prostrate in the market square—
He warned her against buying apples In autumn,
but in September, he felt the tell-tale jolt of loss,
keen as raven’s wing through cloud
dropped the plough, sprinting through the fields of winter wheat.
His gasps matching hers
the viscous pump of blood through ventricles
one stream running dry.

At the apple stall
the copper eyes of the butcher’s wife
burned holes in his heart
as he watched his mother’s soul
drift from her breast into the ether.
It slipped by his hands, goose down through fingers,
formless, aimless love that would spin itself into grief
the cloak woven from its threads
one he would wear
for the rest of his days.
In Western folklore, children born with cauls (amniotic sac still on) are considered lucky, and sometimes the ability to see ghosts and predict the future.
Jme Love Aug 2021
Eyes can be deceiving
In recieving that which we do not wish to see. Optical illusion creates a delusion of something more pleasing. Blinded to pain and misery. Its calculated in the sensory. Knowing this vision isnt seen through rose colored glasses we make believe. Looking only at the beauty past the ugly. We camouflage the eyesores. Blinking just once to change the perspective of all things in sight. We hide behind closed eyes to avoid the view of the world as it is. We overlook just so we dont have to see. Its only when we realy look do we find the truth hidden behind blue eyes.
A collaboration with me and my best friend Fontenot
We may see a love like this
When I see your smile through my eyes
But you see me cry from other ways
Indonesia, 20th July 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
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