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labyrinth Sep 24
I could have been a priest
Or an astronaut maybe
A president or a statesman at least
A poet could’ve easily been me

A professional athlete, or a shipmaster with a crew
What a proficient doctor I would’ve been
A **** good musician or a scientist too
Let alone being a chief archaeologist or something

Ended up being an ordinary man
Thousands of clients and their needs
As ordinary as a real-estate broker and
Been busy rusting with useless deeds.

Couldn’t figure it out to this day. How? Why?
And don’t know how to respond, either
Not much time left. Dad? Ma?
Or anybody else for that matter?
Not copyrighted yet
DMallow 4d
all your plans are but a wish
worth making, no doubt
but hold on loosely
the wind may scatter your leaves
rain falls on a pleasant day
Amy 6d
You
Hold me.
Not letting go.
Assuring me,
this will be everlasting bliss.
Kissing me,
like you need to breathe me in
the way you need oxygen.
Promising me
this once in a lifetime love is forever.
But we both know there’s a shadow hovering over us
Whispering,
"This will end one day…"
when lovers can't be together.
I don't want you to worry anymore.
I don't know how many times I have said it before.

It's going to be alright,
trust me; you aren't going anywhere.

God will take the pain, alright,
believe me; God will be with you everywhere.

I love you too much to see you leave;
I don't know what to do if you leave.

But I know if I love you so,
I have to let you go.

So I wish you the best,
for God will take care of the rest.
it may be silly but every night that the clock hits 11:11 I wish for you.
I wish for us.
I wish for the laughs and the memories
sometimes I even wish for the tears
just anything with you in it, is better than now
just a snippet of a poem that I wrote. I feel like  these lines explain the meaning of the poem better than the full poem .
Sometimes I hope that someone might notice my difference,
Might intuit that the first approach,
The handshake, the "Can I join you?"
Is simply more difficult
And make the first move.
Sometimes I hope that people will realize the hand motions,
Foot tapping, slight rock of the body or toes
Are not merely a restless fidget,
Not impatience, nor disrespect.
Sometimes I want to be invisible,
Normal,
Neurotypical,
To be just another human being,
But mostly I wish to be accepted,
Autistic, quirky, kind, creative,
ME.
Hey. It's me, again. Probably not such a surprise, is it? I wrote you a whole lot of these letters. About all 9 of them ended up in the trash. Partly because they just 'weren't right,' but the biggest part was because I was too self-concious to give it to you. So, yeah, I'm in love with you. You may, or may not know. I really understand it if you chose to ignore that part. And, I like you, okay? Not only as in 'in-love,' but as a friend too. You were there when I needed someone, and I'm really glad that you were, cheesy as it sounds. It's kinda messed up to be honest. (I'm kinda messed up too) And, I feel like a creep again. What about this idea; You read this letter, You ignore it, I drown in sadness like I usually do (probably) and I never talk to you again. My feelings will hopefully dissapear and you can live a happy life with your friends and family without me. Sometimes I really wish I could do that. God knows I'm way to helpless for it. I'm sorry, this has really turned into one big mess. I tried to write it with my own mind, but that just keeps wandering off. I'm not sure what to say anymore. Sorry man.  Uh, there's a little "poem" on the back for you. I still have to write it, but, you can see.

Sincerely, Me
I already regret this, but it's fine, I'm fine. Sorry. I wrote you so many letters, this one is one of them. I tried so many times to write one that wasn't, idk. Not so 'bad' as this one. But, in the end, I found myself being able to write it down by heart, because I wrote the exact same thing over and over. So, here we are. I'm sorry you had to read that. And also, here's the poem:

~

Do you have certain songs,
That remind you of certain people?
You're the song stuck in my head,
And it's a **** sad song baby.
Myka Sep 22
wishing for the impossible
waiting for another day
hoping for a better tomorrow
wishing for a better end
zb Sep 22
it's been twenty-five years since i've seen you last
it's been twenty-five years since i set foot in these halls last
since i've heard your voice echo down these staircases and in my very bones
we're forty-three years old
a far cry from the eighteen year olds we'd been
before everyone had left and
before i'd held your hand for the last time

you're there with someone else
someone probably better for you in every way i wasn't,
couldn't ever be;
you've gotten a hair cut, i notice; it looks good
you look good in that shirt, under those lights
you look good
you've always looked good, to me

i'm standing in the corner.
where else would i be?
surely not in the fringes of the middle, by your side.
the lights are too dim to see you clearly
but i still remember your smile
the lights are too bright
to consider daring to approach;
i've spent years content in your orbit
i can do it for a night more

i'm glad i get to see you again
i don't know if i will, ever, after this
you live half-way across the country
you don't live alone
you don't think of me
not like how i think of you.
twenty-five years, and i'd never
forgotten the warm press of your hand on my arm,
the brush of it on my neck
i'd never stopped longing for you
but our paths diverged too early, and
we were too young, and
besides.
i had only ever been the one pining.

i can't get any closer, anyways,
you'd notice me
you'd remember me
you'd smile at me
you'd hold your hand out,
and of course i'd take it.
but there'd be no familiarity, no comfort,
not like how i want it;
there couldn't be.
she's right there, and
you never thought of it like how i did,
regardless.

i wish we were eighteen forever
i wish we could spend an eternity
as seniors goofing off in the library
as juniors at opposite ends of the school dance
as sophomores in the hallways after school
as freshmen hiding in math class during lunch.
i wish i could hold to that simplicity forever
no pressure
no isolation
just you and me, friends,
comfortable with each other
comfortable in each others' spaces.
who cares what kinds of feelings i harbor?
who cares what you think of me?
i had the freedom to press my hand
against yours, and you
had the freedom to put your arm
on me as i slept,
and that's the only thing that
ever mattered,
could matter,
would matter.

i wish i could stay here forever
i wish twenty-five years from now never happens
i wish i could stop time;

i wish you were mine.
Enas Sep 22
Miriam completed her work promptly that day, cleaned up her workstation and stretched out her sore arms. She wanted to leave in time to take her photos from a studio close by her residence. She glanced out the window at the purple sky. She stared at the small photograph at her desk for a few seconds in silence.
Then she took her gold brown purse and crimson scarf and took off. When she stepped out of the building, her black boots sank into the ground. She cupped her red and cold small button nose with her small hands and looked up at the sky. It was snowing deep that day too, she pondered.

She passed by the studio and took her photos after a long chatter with the vendor, as the dark blue of the sky lurked above. When she reached her house with envelope in hand, at last, she did with her lips open.

“What’s the matter?” she said in bewilderment and little aggravation.
“Come and sit. I have something to tell you, dear.” her mother, Mona, said decisively.
Miriam went inside the house. She walked up the stairs to her room and closed the door. She put the brown envelope of her photos, carefully on her desk and sat on her chair and took a deep breath.

She opened her eyes at the sound of Mona knocking.
” Miriam, I need to talk to you. It is very important.” Mona said.
Miriam got up and opened the door, she followed after her mother downstairs into the living room and sat on a comfortable sofa by the inviting fireplace and looked at her mother.
They sat in silence for a minute.
“We got a call from…” Mona said in hesitation, with her lips wavering.
Now, Miriam’s eyes were focused on her mother’s face. On her brows. On the slight frown in her forehead. On the wrinkles that emerged and faded as she uttered every letter between her trembling lips.

“Joseph is dead. He’s dead, Miriam.” Mona said.

Miriam was not facing her mother anymore. She was gazing at the window, at the little white snowflakes swirling slowly with the wind.
“I see.” Miriam said.
“They said…he was killed in action. He was…” Mona said.
“There is no need to tell me anything more.” Mona said disrupting her.
All she did was stand up and walk to her room wordlessly. Tears streamed hot ardently down Mona’s cheeks, dripping from her bony jaw line.

Miriam locked the door. She threw herself in her bed staring at the brown envelope and reaching one arm to open it. She took out the photographs and took her time with each one.
She stared at each one with an indolent expression.
She frowned when she saw one photo of Joseph, striking a pose at an airport.
What a terrible sense of fashion. What was he thinking? She thought.
He was wearing an olive green knitted sweater with a red-nosed deer pattern, ill-fitting baggy jeans and a dark brown knitted scarf.
Then she beamed at the one dimple that appeared when he grinned.
She traced his features and expression; a long nose, a pointed chin and brown almond eyes. She traced them with her fingers. With her memory.

A tear dropped on Joseph. On his dark brown hair.

She shredded the photographs to pieces, slowly one by one and threw them very gently on the floor.

She clenched to her blanket tightly. She pressed her arms against her chest as hard as she could trying to hold something scorched in. She felt her ribs melting.
She kept gaping with her eyes wide-open, focused on the ceiling on the buzzing neon lights. After a while, her swollen eyes surrendered and her thick-lashed lids closed. Her breaths became deeper and her grip on the blanket loosened up a little.

It was long past midnight when she woke up. She got up and took off her clothes. She stared at the photographs on the floor with her mouth open. She opened the window and stood at the balcony at the break of dawn, unwary of her nakedness or the frosting cold. The heavens snowed generously as the sun rays glittered on the icy glass, on the white streets. She took the torn pieces of the photographs. She took a brief final glance at them, at a piece with almond eyes, then threw them off the balcony scattering them with the wind.

Take to the air away with the snow, just like it took Joseph away from me, Miriam thought.
She made a wish upon every snowflake to bear her grief and make her heart colder.
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