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I can't sleep,
With thoughts of you clouding my mind,
And this is an unusual feeling,
One I'm unfamiliar with.

I'm used to thinking of one I love,
And the thought brings me a smile,
A calm heart and a calm mind,
One that puts me right to sleep.

But right now at this moment,
Just keeping my eyes closed is difficult,
Because you are painted on the backs of my eyelids,
And I know I can't be with you right now.

You, in all your beauty, are too much for me,
I cannot see you without feeling you,
And this is an unusual feeling,
Because it hurts my heart.

On a common night,
Your smile would put my soul at peace,
And set my body at rest,
But tonight is uncommonly longer.

Keeping my eyes open makes me all the more aware,
Of all this time passing me by,
And me alone,
Because you are not with me.

I am all too aware of the extra space on my bed,
I am all too aware of the emptiness beneath my hands,
And this is an unusual feeling,
Because love for you usually compensates.

But it seems that right now,
Mere thoughts simply won't do,
I need you here with me,
In all your physical presence.

I cannot sleep without you to hold tightly,
And I cannot stand to close my fingers around nothing,
I cannot stand to reach forward and only feel blankets,
Until my arm is reaching into thin air.

Now only your presence will let me rest,
I need to feel your soft skin at my fingertips,
And your lips brush right up to mine,
The curve of your waist under one hand.

And this is an unusual feeling,
Because I am not usually one to commit,
But I can confidently say I want to marry you,
And that I want to spend every day I have left,

          With you.
Raw form, unrevised, just wrote it as it came to mind,  I may change it a little if I find better prettier ways to word things.
Alan S Bailey Jul 2015
A place forever forgotten, the fresh rain on the grass of green,
Behind a backdrop of hills with the various dark dots of trees,
Before when rivers turned into waterfalls cascading down cliffs,
Rocky terrain and sandy beaches, lagoons, a backdrop of prairies,
The surge like a smooth endless steady roar, like a pulse, a rush,
Flowing through the earth's veins, becoming streams near where
We all used to camp out,  this life force, a flow that sustained us.
The middle of all greys and shades of blue in the skies, soft breeze,
A white golden sun streaming down gentle rays of natural life,
The laughter, the peace gone, but that's the price of our dream.
Dare you leap off this limb,
into a world of unforgivable sin?
Where lust is love and love is lust.
Where your feet will tread, do you trust?
Every corner unearthing a new depth.
Long ago, there I have crept.
No one hears your cries any longer,
for the world is cruel and oh so somber.
Demons walk among you as your own,
in the place you live in which is not your home.
I wrote this a while ago and just found it in an old binder.
Running at night
With a full moonlight
Its peaceful and bright
But ends with spite
Jogging toward the evening star
Much more tranquil than using a car
But when you get home
With no where to roam
The morning will come too
And with that, the death of you
Then the eve comes again
And you rejoin your fellow friends
And then you are revived again
And then you live your lives as human
Feeling crushed,
forced to be what society wants me to be.
Posters show something I should be.

Not healthy enough,
Not fat enough,
Can't win,
never how someone wants me to be.

I am placed alone or with others
but am always different in some way.
In the end,
Society will eat me anyway.

I wish I could say how I feel,
but I cannot...

I am a burger.
The sun dials,
The seas soar,
The wind turbines,
The dirt tracks.

The door steps and frames,
The bin bags,
The frame rates,
The saw mills.

The pea nuts,
The crisp packets,
The chocolate bars,
The apple crumbles
eliza t Feb 2015
i
i
i am
i am an
i am an unusual
i am an unusual human
i am an unusual human specimen
The only pink house on the street,
Vulnerable.
I dreamt about being lost,
But I was free to be who I want.
Like the dock that seemed to be hiding under the water,
Confused.
Unlike the small turtle crossing the road alone,
I have real friends.
The wildflowers that sprout along the main road
Must be self-conscious like the people who were evicted from apartment 66.
Independence,
Like Christmas lights in mid-July.
Àŧùl Dec 2014
The clouds above are rumbling,
As if sleeping giants are snoring.
Rain drops are tinkling on the tin,
Just winking amidst all of the din.
The early December chill is sweet,
Soon there will not be a thing to eat.
All will freeze in the chilly breeze,
Ice age just has so much to please,
Recall it all what I told if you can.
Juxtaposed by mother nature is it,
Her most wicked chilly plan it is.
A back to the basics poem.

My HP Poem #698
©Atul Kaushal
So beautiful
A swan, born of jay and finch
How could this happen
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