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 Oct 2014 undefined
bestolen
I sometimes wonder about things and how they fit. Like how my heart hurts in your absence but skips a beat when I see your name on a screen and the lilt in your voice when you tell me that you only make fun of me because you love me. Like how written words are strung together by thoughts that haven’t had a chance to become audible and how before serious things are said voices become shaky. Or how your hands would feel pressed up against mine and how my lips would feel against the crevice of your neck. I wonder how the sun would look hitting your face while we drive to pick up our million friends for lunch, and how I’d smack your hand away from changing the radio station when one direction comes on. How my blankets would feel warmer with your legs and arms wrapped around me or how my eyes would look you up and down when you walk into the room before we leave for that thing “we can’t miss.” How you’re the only girl I’d actually move across the world for just so I could pick you up from work and take you to get ice-cream. How you’d look in a fancy dress with your long hair curled and how I’d slide a section of your hair behind your ear and kiss your forehead, and then your lips. Or how I’d sit you in my lap while I played video games and make out with you just so I had an excuse to afk. I wonder how my perfume would mix with yours and how hard my lipstick would be to get out of the collar of your shirt and how I would whisper how beautiful you are before I pulled you close to me just to rest my head on your shoulder. I sometimes wonder how you and I come together and how we never fall apart and I wonder how I would be if you unravelled and how quickly I could break the record at putting you back together again. I wish I could say I loved you for always defending me, for always believing in me, for never making me feel stupid for things that I like or love, but that’s only part of it. I think I love you because you’re soft, and kind, and honest and everything I’ve always wanted to be. I love you for missing me quickly, for completing me, for never being out of reach. I love you for the things you don’t like about yourself, and for the reasons that you think I’d turn away. I love you because you’re everything and because nothing feels right when you’re gone.
say for example,
that you love to play baseball.
[it is your favorite thing in the world,
and you're quite good at it, too].
and before your game,
your coach says to the team,
"if we win, i'll take everybody to Pizza Hut!"
upon hearing this, the players' faces light up-
each one can taste the delicious stuffed crust that awaits them,
and visions of breadsticks dance through their heads.
the coach even brought a coupon book to allude to their possible futures...
just before the team takes the field,
the coach pulls you aside
and says,
"actually, i'm going to take the whole team to Pizza Hut
even if we lose."
well, you would know right then
that outcome of the game
is irrelevant,
but the true joy of playing
comes from competition regardless of winning or losing,
so you vow to play your best game ever.
however, everyone else on the team,
not knowing the ultimate truth,
will play very seriously,
but with great anxiety and nervousness.
they desperately want Pizza Hut,
but know that they might not getting it.
this game is the most important thing in the universe,
and it is the most serious test of all time.
every at-bat is tense for them,
each fly ball could result in ultimate damnation.
nothing is fun.
with tension and anxiety,
they strike out, play conservatively,
and don't take the risks that make the game enjoyable.
quickly, the team finds itself trailing by a few runs,
and sweating profusely because of it.

you, on the other hand,
would feel more relaxed during the game.
you would swing for the fences,
knocking a couple out of the park,
steal a base or two,
make a diving catch.
play your best game ever.
you can do this comfortably
because you realize that you're just playing for fun.
you're going to Pizza Hut after game, whatever the outcome!

soon, in your exuberance,
you'd let slip the secret to a couple other players.
you'd tell them, "guys, we were always going to Pizza Hut,
let's just have some fun while we play this game."
most of them rejoice!
[a couple real serious ones doubt you and resent you.
you'd surely smile, bend a knee, and applaud their solemnity.]
but in your state of joy you include the doubters,
and you let them believe what they will until the final innings over.
you think, they'll wake up soon enough.

with the last out made
and the last run scored,
maybe you look at the scoreboard and see yourself in the lead,
maybe you are a few runs behind,
but the smile on the coach's face says it all:
the peace and joy within you brought into your world happiness...

... and a large pepperoni pizza.
knowing what you know now, will you enjoy the game?
What is poetry? Is it happiness. Or is it insanity, or is it just moments of our lives caught and frozen. Put on display for all to see.I guess poetry is whatever we want it to be.
 Jun 2014 undefined
ryan
I touched the stone
On the statue
And it melted into
Drops of milk and vanilla
A year gone by
And a new river flows
With bone and sugar and ash
The dewlets accumulated
From what once was
Stone.
her smiles shines like diamonds at the bottom of a clear cool lake.
her eyes like hazel tulips fluttering in the wind while she dances to the beat of the drums constructed by her soul
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