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I get stuck too,
because
sometimes
I wonder
what to say
when I
myself have not finished my waiting,
my obsessions, my doubt, ...
and when I finish it,
how will I be able to advise you?

How I can be sure?

When, still, all my obsessions
and commitments
go hand in hand.

I don't know,

Honestly,

Sometimes,

If these words are not superfluous,
Forgive me for announcing you
That you have your own life,
Wait for it!
As she waited for you …
”No shortcuts to the top”
I never knew relationships come with an expiry date,
past that everything goes stale
and what to do with it,
how do I know,
that this Titanic will not sink
fast.
time and again,
her steps
are sprinkled
with rose petals,
well-wishes,
and kisses.

her dress
is elegant
and fair,
yet understated,
so as not
to outdo
the woman of the day.

"affect not
little shifts
and subterfuges
to avoid
the force
of an argument,"
she patiently
holds her breath
for everyone
except herself.

she may
hold the line
with her
precarious walk,
and yet,
"there is always
a prepared place
for a prepared
person."

her very next step
belongs to
no one else,
sprinkled
with song
overflowing
unto her,
as the dawn
breaks within
the fenced walls
of her own heart.

--this is her day.

--this is her time to love.
For fellow HP writer Joey.

This poem contains quotes from Isaac Watts and Jack Hyles.
Up in the backwoods
Of Michigan, lives the
Traveling man name of Tim.
He's in a band, with a million fans, and I think it is a sin, that he's in better shape than I am, and I'm ******* younger than him.
Ever since he got bit by that possum, he will never be the same again.
I had a great conversation with Traveling Man the other day, he's a great dude, and this ode practically wrote itself. Long may he live
on that day
she performed the dance
in a mortal silence

lustful intensity,

the unusual
exit with the back
was hiding her face
without any wave of hope,
the eyes
where
seeking consolation,
her spine
became alive
like a tempting serpent,
arms
were wavy wings
a cry for help,
legs outstretched
like two cello strings
rising
under the guidance
of internal forces,

the pirouettes
faked
with a great talent
the lack of courage,
as a sacrifice brought to the air
she kept doing
dozens of rotations
as if
the body
was anointed
with the dark air,

then,

it fell into its arms
like a wet coat,

every movement
spoke
again and again
"I love you
and
I hate you",

sun rays
died
in a light
that bowed obediently
under  the public eyes
riveted
like a forest
of frozen trees,
waiting for
what's next
Tribute to one of the best world”s ballerinas Maya Plitseskaya!
The day her dark hazel eyes
Met him under  grey cloudy sky
White illusional thoughts
Set in her baby pink heart
Scribbling  violet violent romantic words
That "you are mine "!!

Grew up in green and glow
Bright yellow dreams filled with his ****** and care
Blushed in purple under fictional world
Of  "you me and love " !!

Changeless attitude in pitch black  scorn and slur
Angered her to shiver in red
Yet, back as cool as blue placid waters
Flowing as dazzling maroon stream in thoughts
Of " still I love you" !!

Drained emotions turned her brown  
As dead fallen leaves with little silvery hope
For a soothing touch from his golden hands
She whispered to herself
" Thank you for my colourful life"
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