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kinhanyon May 3
"No one can Know!"

How far is the river would flow,
or even trashed ***

One it brings such a breath for creatures
Two it cost live a dust to seekers

'Lili, if you trully love em? Would you risk your life everyday to keep em?'
Since the eye talks
And the will *****

He did well didnt he? in every step
or single of beat that cracks

For thou! Feel that must not be unseen
or evident as at present
Love to his queen,
This particularly words comes from a potterhead shorts,
Ylzm Apr 25
You feel you are the only
But there are many, socially distanced:
Unseen and unknown, gifted but imprisoned;
For the time is not yet, but it tarries not:
In half a time and not the fullness thereof.
Today is not a strange day;
That day will be when two are agreed,
And heaven, the sun, moon and stars
Fall down and bow low to Man.
Grey Apr 2
"It's like you, Jackson," I say softly, reaching out a hand.
"I once cried because I wished you were real.
"Now, I cry because I wish I were real to him."
I pause, then shake my head slowly.
"No, that's not true...
"I think... I think I cry because I wish he were truly real to me."
3/30/2020
Jason Drury Feb 27
City lights banter,
with the night.
We walk,
like water and,
with things unseen.
Step with tranquility,
alone with serenity.
Shofi Ahmed Jan 13
She is the unseen world
within the world
at best imagine her!
Ilonka Dec 2019
how can we forgive ourselves for all the things we didn't do?
we lived with artificial feelings for so many untouched mornings,
without knowing who we are,
we used the word "I" many times, describing ourselves in many ways
all deceptive, half-truths

we are like a wax spilled on a half-burned candle,
a candle that really wanted to burn, but died out before it was born,
muted white flames fluttering have confessed silent desires,

if we could start over and remove the wax, dig deep, maybe we could light the quenching soul to find out its secrets

there is no empty soul only emptiness in the soul
unseen things are hidden there in the dense depths, forgotten, breathing more and more rarely,
they are butterflies of powders of hope which want to fly only once

how can we forgive ourselves for all the things we didn't do?
Carmen Jane Nov 2019
Have you seen my smile,
Have you smelled my hair? It's washed!
I was here, with you...
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