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You send shivers down my spine when you walk in,
Cause the butterflies to flutter like mad.
When you look in my eyes,
You burn right through me.
You are the sunshine when my skies are clouded,
The light when I can't find the good in the world.
I could be all that you need,
You are all that I want.
My stomach knots when you are next to me,
You make me nervous and giddy.
I smile at the thought of you,
Quake in your presence.
You have all control over me,
And you don't even know it.
 Jan 2014 Victoria Mogolis
All this time,
I've been using the fault in our stars as a compass,
looking for Alaska and ending up in all the wrong paper towns

.. trying to write poems to impress people,
who don't even give a ****.

Well now, I've found a friend,
a few to say the least.
And Alaska may just as well be the 8th wonder in the world,
for her words and poetry never fail to amaze me.

Alas, I've found Alaska!
We're somewhat distant but under the same sky
Two different stories, two difference souls,
but hey, great minds, all think alike ;]
The words in bold are John Green book titles! ;]
I don't know why I hate myself so much.
How can I loath the body I was gifted,
Cry over the sincereness of my very own personality.
How can I tear down the height of my happiness,
Look myself in the delusive mirror just to accept it's biting lies.
How can I break this beastly habit?
When the dreamer dies,
Will the dream die too?

I like to think it will float along the skies
Taking someone by surprise
And the dream will be renewed
By a dreamer much like you
Heartache used to be beautiful,
Something you only felt when truly hurt,
Something that went away, making one
Feel new.
Heartache grows dreadful
When experienced weekly,
My heart trembles now
Only moments after I wake.
I wish only to cry, to sob
But no tears make it to the surface.
I have no release, I have no comfort.
I have only myself, and the occasional chat with death.
Death seems peaceful, enticing.
My heart begs me to take his hand,
My body aches to cease.
How sweet it would be, to give in,
To jump into the pits of hell,
With those whom understand.
Ah, but life is precious, is it not?
That is what they tell me,
That is what they try and make me believe.
I can believe nothing now.
Heartache used to be beautiful.
I saw the
                              w a t e r...

                                                          ­                                           ...strange that sweat
                                                         ­                             was pouring down my face....

                                                       The children playing silly games
                                                         seemed icy figures lost in space.

   ...and though cold flowed throughout
         my bones
  like rivers made of snowy stone...

                                                  ­                                                                 ­               warm was my skin like
                                                            ­                                                                 ­              drunken sin,
                                                            ­                                                             and now I'm lost;
                                                           ­                                                  a specter alone...
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