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 Mar 2019 Omi
Pax
never gone
 Mar 2019 Omi
Pax
I was never gone,
yet I was not even seen.
How could you ever love me
If you still never see me.
 Mar 2019 Omi
eileen
Wings
 Mar 2019 Omi
eileen
Keep me locked
everyone loves me without a tongue
It's not my last day
I'm still a blink from giving away

If I can't have my self
I don't want anyone else

If I can't love my reflection
Then I don't want to love you

I can't find my brain
to see you

Turn off the lights
Sleep alone
I've never felt so lonely
I don't know who I am anymore
 Mar 2019 Omi
Melissa S
I am the other woman
the one that never gets the man
I am all his lustful thoughts dreamed up
I am her nightmare in a can

You see she will never give him all he needs
and he will never leave her a fact I now believe
She has his family and his past
and I am the woman who keeps coming in last

I am the other woman...
I know I am not everyone's biggest fan
but I loved him the way he really wants
and the way that she never truly can
 Mar 2019 Omi
Alyssa Underwood
It is not the nature of things or people to satisfy us,
but to awaken in us the desire to be satisfied.
For all of this Earth’s wonder and beauty and mystery,
it's only meant to serve as a great cosmic magnet
pulling us to our Source. May every scent and song,
every shadow and sorrow move us ever closer to Him.
"'Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to Me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to Me;
listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you,
My faithful love promised to David...'
Seek the LORD while He may be found;
call on Him while He is near...
You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands."
~ Isaiah 55:1-3,6,12
 Mar 2019 Omi
John F McCullagh
It began with the work.
He was the brilliant author; she his secretary.
They were racing against time
To pay a debt that must be paid.
Her nimble hands matched his nimble mind.
Her fingers flew to record his thoughts.
Four weeks, a mere four weeks,
to finish his novel; to rescue himself from debt.
Each night she worked, by feeble candlelight,
To transcribe his thoughts
While thoughts of love engendered in her breast.

At last the work was done, his time redeemed,
Yet he could not let go of one so dear.
Shyly, Dostoevsky proposed they wed.
She consented to become his wife, so dear.
She was not beautiful in the conventional sense
But became his muse, in fact his life and death.
Fyodor Dostoevsky was under the gun to finish a novel in four weeks to pay off the debts of his late brother. He engaged a woman who knew shorthand.  In time she became his confident, friend wife and lover
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