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Jonah May 5
They carve my name in marble,
But never spoke it in light.
They trace my letters, like a whisper,
As if they knew me by night.
The hands that reach for my stone,
Never offered any warmth before.
Their silence forged my coffin first,
Long before they grieved.
A king of dust, a throne of rot.
Now they kneel, now they pray.
But where were they when breath was still burned.
When i has still more to give.
Mean mearly shadow in their prime,
Unseen, unheard, only a passing weight.
Only once 6 feet down,
Do they feel to call fate.
To those who call
Jonah Apr 24
I love your eyes,
Yet I hate the coldness in your soul.
I love your smile,
Yet I hate the harshness of your voice.
I love your hair’s soft curls,
Yet I hate its unkempt look.
I love your sweet perfume,
Yet I hate the bitter undertone of your scent.
I love dreaming of you,
Yet I hate the thoughts that haunt me.
I love you deeply,
Yet find myself tangled in hate.
I love your appearance,
Yet I hate your careless style.
I love your free spirit,
Yet I hate the distance it creates.
I find endless reasons to hate you,
Yet it only deepens my love.
For the one I truly loved.

— The End —