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adriana May 2018
and yet again, we're six feet under.
in too deep for the second time.
after all, what's the point in coming
back from the grave if it's where
you sleep at night?
Colm May 2018
Time to be,
Not even yourself.
In the memories of another.
Doing so helps.
How to stop it. Sometimes.
Lon Witter May 2018
It's raining like that day we met
I think for the moments we couldn't had
The rain is resonating with my soul
And I remember life that tasted sour

We've met under the rain many times
But we haven't get in same lines
Rain drops were falling lovely
Like the time has stopped slowly

And I saw that smile of yours
Like rainbow shining after rain
But the moments haven't been ours
You've not fallen in love with me under the rain
Colm May 2018
Ask to find. Don't run and hide.
The person is not the pleasure which is in mind.

Just as fears are never lasting, ever fading fast we die.

So also should our conversations be more just than that in mind.

And yet I find...

That it is the pride of self expression, which comes most before the fall.

Perhaps our story has been recanted. And I did not share Me at all?
This is a bit of a reminder from self to humble myself. Because my perceptions are often quite far from the truth. No matter how much my intuition likes to affirm what I think. Such thoughts are just thoughts. I think.
SangAndTranen Mar 2018
I can feel you under my skin
No, literally.

When you shift, your skin writhes under mine
I'm itching from the friction.

When you flex your fingers
Mine are forced to move in synchrony.

When you frown
My brows slide downwards.

When you cry
Your tears seep through my lashes.

You are inside of me
Hiding like a coward
And yet controlling like a dictator.
Random moment of inspiration, as usual.
Cecil Miller Mar 2018
A cry for battle
Issues forth from your wicked mouth,
And finds a way to my ear.
I accept the challenge.
I will break your heart.

When darkness you need,
I will cast a light
Upon your duplicity
And broadcast your faithlessness
Into the dark of a stormy night.

The snow globe will shatter,
The one you keep on the end of a ceptor as you prim over golden walls laden with your uselessness.

Sidelong glances await you,
And shouts from the street,
Though not the one you want.

Anger will crack your face. Nobody will care.
Solidity has melted away from all the heat;
and you’ll retreat
Down into a hole to hide
With all the crawlers,
But even they will not abide
Because of your lies.
They won't sympathize
With your short eyes.
Wrote a poem about it, like to read it, hear it go.
Lovely bubbly belly.
           I know...
     The child I am
          Must die!
       For the child
      you'll become
       Bring on life!
          I'm ready...
Give me what you got!
Medusa Feb 2018
I read what you wrote, and I knew I had it coming
They say that someday the first will be last
Nothing goes so nice and orderly
My Love Shall Not Crawl Away

Not quite like that, my oldest friend
Let us talk and kiss once again

I have let you down?
Imagine me, in the snow,
All that hope

Yet all the years of expecting nothing
Taught me how to listen, how to gird myself
Against

You ever breaching this fortress
Of other potential Assassins

But our mothers can't climb this high
I'm ready to strike mine if she dared
Dead 13 years, but that won't stop me
Nothing will, just the thought of you

Forget it.
I ask you, forget us.
If one of us can escape this net
Such strange thing without a name

I want it
I need it
I hope it

Will be you.

~*~


2018
sometimes you have to let the poetry go, even if it isn't right at all. . . .
Jessy Feb 2018
Over thinking
Heavy drinking

Under eating
Always repeating

Over stressed
Very depressed

Under weight
Slow heart rate
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