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Lunar Nov 2017
I love you."
wjh said these words a year ago,
and for some reason it doesn't only makes me feel happy and assured,
but it makes me sad and lonely too.
he's got a tinge of wistfulness in him, that's why i like him a lot.
he makes me feel like there's more to loving someone
because of seeing them happy.
you truly love someone even when you see them sad.
eve Nov 2017
What you give me is what I receive,
The feelings overloading and essentially controlling me are forcing the inner version of myself to ignore thee,
Block off anyone who interferes with my life in the smallest of ways.
Stress is enough,
I can no longer think straight.
Consistently titling to both ends of our path,
I thought the starting would lead us somewhere beyond the fan stays of great,
But I was kicked and left in the dust with the others,
The prophecy unveiled itself,
I was right since the beginning, but my witless gut remained oblivious to my emotionally unstable self and instead stayed behind with the real you.
I grew attached to you, thinking everything for once would finally accumulate into one enjoyable entirety,
But you shattered me both internally and externally,
Now all I can focus on is how to fix these pieces back together.
Before I loose touch upon myself once more,
I ask anyone for forgiveness, begging on my knees for all to please.
I wish to give the little portion of my purity and happiness to you, now, am I considered the wrong and careless one?
Or are you, the heartless form of me?
“I know you, you're nothing but a sad boy.”
Jenny Gordon Oct 2017
hi.  [funny thing about chancing upon that particular title is my first boyfriend used to wrestle with my brothers and I]


(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCV)


Ah, silver twilight! mists like to a veil
Down in the valley, maples nod from hence
Their greener boughs as rain 'non whispers thence--
That voice my soul harks unto, low and frail
Yet oh, how sweet!  If only in betrayl
I could 'gain lose me on that haunting sense
Which tugs at nary sleeve, yet knows fr'intents
What I sae yearn t'embrace, light waxing pale.
My brother sez thet all does change as twere,
Um, after we are one, though neither to
Effect know truly, 'cept by what, in poor
'Scuse, others say.  The Word of God is true.
I'm sick of waiting...yet.  Leaves dimly stir,
This half-light all I cherish, without you.

14Oct17c
Laugh at me.
Jenny Gordon Oct 2017
...there's NO excuse for me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIV)


Mists haunt the sodden valley with a sense
I only finger, and you don't know, pale
As mere words ever are, how much in frail
Excuse I love your loving me, and thence
How badly I want:  ALL.  You won't from hence
Believe me, 'til you own aught inch, who'd hail
My kissing with "so THIS is Jenny--" scale
What you kin have, clothes on, and where's defense?
I'm NOT "in love," though oddly as it were
All YOURS upon the very instant you
Desire, as putty in your hands.  But you're
So much a:  man, which term denotes why "woo"
Is such a pretty thing is't?  So then, stir
Me when you want, and whate'er shall I do?

14Oct17b
You...words never shall manage to describe people in a very real sense.
Jenny Gordon Oct 2017
wow, wrote this in 12 minutes...*



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIII)


My bad...it is semantics thet avail
You of the same affections I've lost, whence?
Oh dear!  How shall I ever own defense?
He's Russian' beat strains on whiles I in pale
'Scuse madly type that sonnet in betrayl
Up for you, and how shall I put it hence?
When we're apart I'm strong; together? sense
Is buried and I yield me up sans bail.
Thus leave me in cold silence and, though's poor,
Lo, I thought "curtains!" though my brother knew
Far better.  Now rain'd sweetly dance in tour
And I miss being where he is, lost thus to
My world in his, although's too short as twere.
Why can't a godly man want me...um, you?

14Oct17a
Diary pages....
Jenny Gordon Oct 2017
“...in good measure--”



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCLXVII)


I’m thirsty sans aught to, as twere, avail.
You turn the page now back and forth, a sense
Of all we tasted hours ‘go waltzing hence
As twould but trip now off my tongue in pale
Excuse, just begging for a voice as frail
Half silence chews its fingers for intents,
And you just make a small noise, like from thence
We know, yet feign an ignrance in betrayl.
Okay, the sigh’s collective as we stir
Our noggins oer that prompt of water—to
Leave off as time is called.  And you?  My poor
Thought vanquished, we all burst out laughing through
Your lines.  Will tears be salty water we’re
Left to ‘non drink because of “I love you.”?

02Oct17b
Beginning this upon finishing that other, what I like about this one is how it captures deliciously a sense of the moment.
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