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"albright" poems
this canvas watercolor memories diluted dreams washed away with the tears. careless strokes of misused brushes smudged the palette on the linen of our history. old photographs polaroid moments stuck in time where darkness won't fade to light. shake us up but it's way too late. frozen smiles of strangers won't change our fate. Unpublished work © 2010 Kimberly Rae Albright
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Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 9:40 AM UTC
the.art.of.heartbreak
oh heavy heart painfilled I’m drowning in the emptiness of my lonely despair. oh heavy heart breathless I’m suffocating with the sounds of my mournful sighs. oh heavy heart oppressed I’ve collapsed under the weight of my desperate thoughts. oh heavy heart my heavy heart Unpublished work © 2010 Kimberly Rae Albright
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Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 6:11 AM UTC
heavy.heart
Thrown aside shattered, broken… I’m in tiny pieces A reflection of a half lived existence of one great big sad lie. it’s funny what we settle for in times where we want more. it’s clever that your words are exactly what my ears have longed to hear. it’s sad that all they’ll ever be are meaningless. promises you made but never meant to keep. I’m in pieces here disregarded you left me on my own. I’m in pieces here I gave you all my love but you don’t want it anymore. Ego bruised, Heart torn the melancholy of me blows restless on these winds of change. I’m not sure how I can carry on. it’s crazy the lengths we go to just to keep from being alone. it’s maddening how easy you can walk right out that door. it’s scary to fall so helpless into the darkness of what’s no more. I’m in pieces here disregarded you left me on my own. I’m in pieces here I gave you all my love but you don’t want it anymore. you don’t want me anymore. Unpublished work © 2010 Kimberly Rae Albright
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May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 6:39 AM UTC
in.pieces
Did you know the average person spends only five seconds at a piece of art? A mere glimpse of Albright’s Dorian Gray his phantasmal and grotesque visage silently screaming horror Only a look at Litchenstein’s pulp women straw-yellow hair and ivory word bubbles abound their comic book stories told within one panel A sighting of Breton’s Lark a dying sun sinking into the horizon behind her her tired, shadowy eyes awaiting the next one’s arrival All these fleeting moments betray art for they do not deserve seconds they have earned centuries
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
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