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I'm not someone
You'll write a poem about
For I'm nothing like
The cashmere sweaters
You've clung to all your life.

My warmth to you
Is like the cold winter sun
Too distant to make you feel
Anything for too long.

I might catch your eye
But your soul would easily skip mine.

And I'm not someone
You will rescue
Rather I'm the wreck
You will leave behind.

So when my heart breaks
Watching you look at me
In the rear view
I will tell myself.

That maybe this is the fate
Of a wildflower and a Vase.
I was unhappy
and I know you felt it.
Because one day
with no warning,
you said goodbye.

Without looking back,
you just left me
on the side of the road.
With a shattered heart
and broken dreams.

Your last words to me
still ring in my ears,
before I go to sleep at night
and the moment I wake up.

"I can't stay.
Because if I do,
you'll walk away.
If there's one thing
I've learned in life,
it's to leave
before you get left."
When people
Talk about love
It always seems shallow.
But really,
How can creatures as simple as I
Be expected to use such a limited medium as language
To express a feeling, an emotion, a pull so deep
A process so quick yet so intricate
As the wide, beautiful waters of love
The raging, welcoming oceans of love;
The ever-confusing, always painful waves of love.
Its never shallow depths that drag me down.
And in the same way love is water,
                                Love is fire
Scorching heat, licking flames, crackling tinder, flying embers.
Love is as complex as fire and water, earth and air, infatuation and attraction.
It hurts beautifully and pleases terribly.
But we look for it in everything.
So if my love poems sound shallow,
if my songs are superficial,
my art simplistic,
Forgive the language’s
lack of expression.
For if the world meant ‘I love you’
Then I’d give you the universe.
it never made sense why i felt so strongly for her
Take the nyquil
Ended up swimming the ocean
Laugh at the funeral
Requiem require the pair
Find the heaven
We gonna dive in hell
It's chaos, inspired by ERYS and SYRE.
I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night
Writing  makes her happy.
When the pen.
Feels her pain.
And the paper.
Understands her words.
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