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The Sea and you are Sisters,
your eyes Green as she.
Her waves skip like your kisses.

Soft, rhythmic, with gentleness,
soothing my tempest.
You are daughters of the Moon.



© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
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7-5-7
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 Oct 2017 Andrew Guzaldo c
anon
i think my best friend
is dead

no joke
no lie
i think she has died

we haven't talked in
5 years
and i miss her like you miss
sleeping
after you've been up all day

like you miss seeing
while your eyes are closed

like you miss smiling
when you're sad out of your mind

i miss her like you miss
your best friend
who has gone

i miss her like
the other half

of me
I just needed to talk about this
 Oct 2017 Andrew Guzaldo c
Dirt
I am not a poet
I am not an eloquent man with a pen in my hand letting it dance along the pages in a captivating dance
It is a stop and go, stumbling and tripping over feet out of beat awkward hobble
I am not a creative person spilling my soul onto the pages like blood from a stab wound
I am a scab that keeps getting reopened small bursts of blood and healing and bleeding all over again
I am not in touch with my inner self i can't tell you how im feeling right now
i am a smooth hard rock weathered from years of wear
i am not a poet, i am a child writing stories
i am not a poet i could write and write till my hands bled and youd never understand how i truly felt gabe.
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