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"cuddles" poems
For centuries philosophers have speculated the role sleep plays in society But it was not until the 1950s that sleep woke up in academia And today sleep studies show what dormant minds really look like Information about our rest we've never seen before However, I've always understood the importance of bedtime You see my parents taught me that sleep and love are soul mates My mom She's the sleeper She loves to sleep She cuddles up on any piece of furniture in my house and snoozes for hours Never views a sitcom past the first commercial break when she's tired And she's okay with that Dad never lets her drive on road trips when night falls Preferring his sleeping beauty tucked safely in the passenger seat Their hands meet as she lets the stars serenade her to slumber While he anchors his left hand on the steering wheel Thanking his lucky stars for his real life princess My dad He's the snorer He loves to snore He roars like a lion on his love seat and naps for hours Never views a sitcom past the second commercial break when he's tired And he's okay with that Mom never lets him sleep alone too long though Keeping his nose plugged strong enough to signal for bedtime They both stand together as he lets her guide him to slumber While she ushers her left hand around his back Thanking her lucky stars for her own prince charming Now my parents call me the dreamer And I sure do love to dream It seems my parents are textbook role models for me Because when you live inside a fairytale for far too long Your reality becomes an endless stream of fantasies Your expectations are exceptionally out of context Strictly written for poetic lines in picture books Never meant to be held Never meant to be felt Only meant for spines stuck on rosewood shelves My parents call me the dreamer And boy I love to dream I believe in creating the unthinkable And when you live inside a fairytale for far too long Nothing is fictional You picture a life with storybook endings Praying the author never runs out of ink You crown each syllable the king of the moment Treating each page like royalty And I've always been okay with that So when I asked my mom when she knew she fell in love She spoke of an instant of unadulterated emotion She said she knew instantly She didn't need to sleep on it When I asked my dad when he knew he fell in love He just smiled back at me He must have known instantly He didn't even speak on it So when I ask myself when I might fall in love I can't help but smile Think of fairytale titles Mile wide love notes in all shapes and styles And a moment where my reality sets my hopes on fire And I won't need to dream about it anymore
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Dreamer
For centuries philosophers have speculated the role sleep plays in society But it was not until the 1950s that sleep woke up in academia And today sleep studies show what dormant minds really look like Information about our rest we've never seen before However, I've always understood the importance of bedtime You see my parents taught me that sleep and love are soul mates My mom She's the sleeper She loves to sleep She cuddles up on any piece of furniture in my house and snoozes for hours Never views a sitcom past the first commercial break when she's tired And she's okay with that Dad never lets her drive on road trips when night falls Preferring his sleeping beauty tucked safely in the passenger seat Their hands meet as she lets the stars serenade her to slumber While he anchors his left hand on the steering wheel Thanking his lucky stars for his real life princess My dad He's the snorer He loves to snore He roars like a lion on his love seat and naps for hours Never views a sitcom past the second commercial break when he's tired And he's okay with that Mom never lets him sleep alone too long though Keeping his nose plugged strong enough to signal for bedtime They both stand together as he lets her guide him to slumber While she ushers her left hand around his back Thanking her lucky stars for her own prince charming Now my parents call me the dreamer And I sure do love to dream It seems my parents are textbook role models for me Because when you live inside a fairytale for far too long Your reality becomes an endless stream of fantasies Your expectations are exceptionally out of context Strictly written for poetic lines in picture books Never meant to be held Never meant to be felt Only meant for spines stuck on rosewood shelves My parents call me the dreamer And boy I love to dream I believe in creating the unthinkable And when you live inside a fairytale for far too long Nothing is fictional You picture a life with storybook endings Praying the author never runs out of ink You crown each syllable the king of the moment Treating each page like royalty And I've always been okay with that So when I asked my mom when she knew she fell in love She spoke of an instant of unadulterated emotion She said she knew instantly She didn't need to sleep on it When I asked my dad when he knew he fell in love He just smiled back at me He must have known instantly He didn't even speak on it So when I ask myself when I might fall in love I can't help but smile Think of fairytale titles Mile wide love notes in all shapes and styles And a moment where my reality sets my hopes on fire And I won't need to dream about it anymore
Continue reading...
62
I was born out of fur and cotton, With eyes that were shiny, black buttons. From the store rack, I always watched the distant tree. But one fine day, this little girl picked me. My owner handled me with great care. I was, after all, her beloved teddy bear. I seemed to be her biggest comfort, When she couldn't sleep or she felt troubled. Years passed by and so did my time. The little girl didn't need her teddy when she cried. As I lay with the other toys in the attic, I realized that my short life was quite tragic. "Mr. Cuddles! Your child's best friend!" But who's going to care about me in the end? I played my part. I stayed with you. But in the end this is what it came to. Mr. Cuddles, the lonely one. Who lies in the attic with his fur undone. The cotton keeps falling out of his limb, The once happy bear now lays grim.                                                     -Wayward❤
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Mr. Cuddles
. A cloud falls from the sky, a lead balloon of precipitation, and cuddles the ground like a long lost lover. Dripping its cargo, shedding tears along the way, leaving a trail of damp memory and a calm balm for the Earth. *And a candle flickers on a lonely table, as a pen drifts across lines, filling meaningless words that never convey the depths of separation. The flame flares as a waft, a draft, creeps in a crack under the door, adding a poignant touch to the melancholy of atmosphere. Gripping the pen with delicate unease, the hubbub drowns inwards, doubt rises in ascendancy, the pen falls, like a discarded relationship, and the meaningless words stop.* © Pagan Paul (21/11/18)
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Candle Drift
Standing on the hillside is a rustic yellow cottage, Rusty yellow staining from the steel dust of the trains. Passing, rushing carriages that crisscross by the hour, The ten o clock from Frankston meets the City train detained. Golden light of sunrise in the calm of early morning Golden light reflected on the rusty cottage roof, Puffing at his briar and sitting at the doorstep Old Grandpa drinks the peacefulness whilst stroking cat aloof. Bacon smells a-beckoning from coal range fires a-glowering Delicious tang of coffee from my Granma’s breakfast fare, The clattering of silver wheels as silver rails reverberate Sings the music of the morning with not a trace of care. Memories from yesteryear I treasure on reflection, Memories, a little boy, recalled from times secure. Memories of cuddles in the ***** of my Grandma And the scent of plum tobacco giving Grandpa’s pipe allure. Perhaps a trick of memory, perhaps my passing fancy But I clearly recall a sign above the kitchen door, A simple sign of welcome with a sense of real belonging In the gentle name of “Sunrise” to warm the heart galore. Marshalg In memory of my dear Nan and Pop Cummings @ Mordialloc by the bay. 23 April 2013
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
"Sunrise"
A petal haired army saluting the call of the skies - it made my heart go to her until I hope her into being and I look into her eyes - eyes that shimmer with every shade of springtime with frolicking lambs and trumpeting daffodils with the glint of her chocolate stained Sunday dress, dancing and whirling with the matriarch blues of six generations to know our dance, but to write her own song - a song composed of notes she will fashion for herself in flower petal perfume and dirt and birthday cake tummy ache and she can write them in gummy bears or wiggly worms in any way she might choose, on bill boards or in locked diaries but it will be beautiful beyond words because its her way - her way - choosing to skim cliff edges over mama's apron strings, tearing frills on tree branches and turning back her watch to arrive home late and you can bet when she dreams him in her sleep she won't be feeling that pea. But so long as she takes her dreams to heart and cuddles them to life and knows that she is perfectly imperfectly beautiful and remembers that - that life is lived as much on cliff edges as it is in your own home that dress tears and stains speak joy every bit as much as a photograph that mama's apron strings stretch far and wide, and that though the shades of seasons change, she must sing her song and dance.
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Empty Crooks
The first time I made love to my mind When love escaped from the gaps Between our silences and overthinkings I saw the naked mind. We sailed from thousand cuddles of imprudence To a long warm kiss of sanity. While I dwindled in her arms of fool's paradise No sleep just one long weary night, Her ****** reeked of loneliness I licked it. Hoping to taste ingenuity, it was the aftertaste of forsaken feelings that made me ***** her till she stopped moaning neon dreams. Somewhere in my walkabouts in her I created deep craters of memories Which she took for love bites were, in fact, scars for life. We were virgins on our quests Thirsting our way through wanting and longing...... She made me swallow lust Slowly. Heavily downtown. And fingered it, the ***** of thoughts Ruptured. And she bled musings. And Phantasmagoria exuding from her holes And Spurting into mine like a cascade of brooding melancholy..... And.... And.... The night my mind lost its virginity, I sat down to write.
0
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
I make love to my mind
******* feelings, I wish I didn't have them. I wish I wouldn't be jealous over any little thing. I could go on with life without any type of remorse. I could go on with this monotonous, existence. But without you of course. Because love is mother nature's most powerful force. But without it, I wouldn't have any passion to chase you. And i wouldn't want to be in love, because I wouldn't have to. But that isn't real, it's really not possible. All of these feelings I hold are unstoppable. Under all this emotion, i see clearer than ever. Ready to conquer any ******* endeavor. I need you like water, without you, I'd die. Like a bird needs it's feathers, minus you, I can't fly. You're this constant itch, i feel on my lips. And when I scratch it, I take in huge hits of bliss. So All of this time, I could have felt this? And now that I've tasted you, I know what I've missed. You are the best cuddles, tip top of the list. The most amazing sensation, everytime we kiss.
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Hits of Bliss
Head exploding life seems too fast to find out what I'm thinking I wonder if my strength is going to last. I crawled into bed with you last night first time in years we've been segregated by my exhaustion and my fears. To feel your flesh again made my headache worth it but nothing will take away the ache that I feel for the love of myself. Self acceptance is what I need I'm better than I thought but the lingering mistrust of how I'm going to be scuppers me at every turn. If I could just relax on the inside and let my self be happy I think I would be happier.
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
Headache & Cuddles
The warmth is now gone from your side of the bed and my  body is missing the cuddles you give on rainy days. your scent has left the room, but the echoes of your laughter remains. I'm not used to sleeping alone anymore. I miss how the bed dips on your side 'cause of your heavy weight, and how you became my blanket, my pillow, and a shoulder to cry on. I hate that I miss you, that I took you for granted, I didn't treasure the moment. I took what we had for granted, and I regret it. I miss you, and how my heart used to burn too.
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Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
to: my cuddle buddy
When I close my eyes, the sight of you appears I learnt to build my thoughts around you When you look at me and smile now I wonder how we made it so many years. A man is one who loves his girl Treats her with respect and plays with her Trusts her no matter the world flips sides Shows her how much he needs her. Shares every secret every thought with her Stands by her when she in doubt Helps her make the right decision Fixes her mood when it’s out Cuddles her when she is sad and low Troubles her to get her attention Pretends to be angry with her Just so she showers him with kisses... Sings to her to show how much he loves her Helps her cook when guests are home Jokes he cracks to make her laugh Never would he even by mistake make her cry Compliments her for the smallest of things Remembers her in his busiest of hours Tells her he loves her before she sleeps Just to wake up with her kiss on his cheek... Walks with her holding hands Gives her hugs and kisses unplanned... Is naughty with her when she’s happy Does all this with his heart and mind. Assures her she is beautiful, pretty and hot Is dedicated to her like a sage Messes with her emotions now and then, But gives her the love she craves. .. Wonder how many such men were ever made? God creates for each one a soul mate Wonder if these thoughts would just remain thoughts But thank-god I am blessed with the perfect man of this age.  :)
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Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
THE PERFECT MAN
I want your cuddles and your kisses and your undivided attention I want to be the queen of your world I want you to notice when I'm not near you I want to be loved by you and you alone
0
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Wants
In her love smitten my home's youngest kitten I stroke her silky fur to hear her mew and purr! As soon as I'm home this beauty's epitome raises fluffy tail holds me in her spell! Of gracious royal class this gorgeous little lass cuddles on my lap for a warm blissful nap! I pamper her too much hanker for her touch she in my heart dwells in pride her heart swells! Though my love she rules she ain't an inch grateful this tiny cute empress leaves poops on floor mattress!
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Ungrateful
I don't want an easy love. Sure, I want a napping in the sun, Doing everything and nothing All at once Staring into each other's eyes And giggling at an in-joke Kind of love. But not a simple one. Not one that settles into my bones With the inevitability of old age. Not one that grows so comfortable It becomes ordinary. I want fire. I want passion. I want a love that makes me fight for it. Over and over again. I want a love that keeps me on my toes. That never settles into routine. Sure, I want a coffee in bed Cuddles with a film Soft pillows and warm skin Kind of love. But I also want to look at it And see that it is ephemeral And changeable And all the more precious for it. Sure, I want a lifetime kind of love. But a lifetime's a long time. And I want it to be a wild tango, Not a slow and stately waltz.
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
Dance with me?
Daisy There was a flower named Daisy, I think she is a little bit crazy, Spits pollen everywhere, Shows her underwear, And all the time she is lazy. Camping Camping is on a deserted tropical island. Camping is singing on the moon. Camping is the wildlife around me. Camping is dancing on the sun. Camping is on top of an icy mountain. Camping is in the middle of nowhere. Camping is flying through the jungle. Camping is getting lost in an adventure. Camping is a tent shivering in the cold. Cats Cats are black and sly. They creep down the halls without a sound. Everything it looks at is still. Their eyes glimmer in the dark. They prance on their prey and in seconds they are gone. They taste like a big glomp of hair with a hint of catnip. They fell like a sharp claws climbing in your skin. They smell like danger. When a cat feels sad it cuddles up with me. My personal favorite.. There once was a girl who said "These limericks are hurting my head," "Your teacher says you need only to write two, Then you can go up to bed."
0
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 5:43 AM UTC
Poems I wrote when I was 8!
I am so sick of love. Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)! I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it. Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way, are the Lies! "You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?", all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap! Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF? Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart? The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere... For crying out loud! After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts. And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.   The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between. No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$). Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy! Absolutely No Strings Attached. No bull **** no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?) Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!] One thing's for sure. I am so profoundly sick of love!
0
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
No Strings Attached~
I am so sick of love. Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)! I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it. Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way, are the Lies! "You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?", all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap! Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF? Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart? The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere... For crying out loud! After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts. And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.   The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between. No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$). Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy! Absolutely No Strings Attached. No bull **** no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?) Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!] One thing's for sure. I am so profoundly sick of love!
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21
I have just met you, and have already judged myself for you. Should I be thinner for you?  I have just met you, and have already become addicted. Should I give up on you? I dont feel adequate. I dont feel worthy. To tell the truth, I want to be more. I want to be more than just a common harlot I want to be important to you.  I want to have *** with my Lover. Not my **** buddy.  I need rough coitus, And heartwarming cuddles. I need all that you are.
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Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
More
They would have given a lot those paste-skinned kids with straw for hair and knobby knees Not that frail— it seems Beneath grayish strings through black rims one cracked lens screams— Gets nothing! Changes nothing! Ritual words fall— a rusted refrigerator shoved over a railing from the second floor Barking dogs tied to the radiator of misery fed on rough-house excuses for kindness Why do people keep children? Larger than average eyes huge foreheads of genetic wrong ******* childhood downstairs while mother is sleeping I can get used to the smell of cats Human ***** is not so— different? and if I didn’t change my clothes for a week What do children know? Jenny cuddles a starving kitten then releases it to where they disappear... one generation after another Famished eyes devour anything offered words...food...sex...God Screams from the mats of string and gray Scald the frantic instant badly I watch her bolt beyond explanation Night gives no reason to let her live.... My faith went the way the kittens go Hope and a small girl blend beyond blackness
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
Bread on the Water
I miss you The cuddles The kisses having someone who cared for me I wish I could cuddle with you again Just hold you, or lie in bed together I know you need it now Just like I did then So come darling Leave your troubles behind and embrace me
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May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
Embrace
I want your 2pm rants, I want your 8pm cuddles, I want your 10pm "goodnights." And most importantly, I want to feel you next to me at 4am. Pulling me closer, making me feel safe.
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
I want you
"I love the way her hair falls on her shoulders I love the way she cuddles when it's colder I love the way she smiles at me I love the way her eyes are ****** I love the way she laughs out loudly I love her, even when she's cranky I love the way she's so moody I love the way she effortlessly looks lovely I love the way she holds her phone I love the way she makes it feel like home I love the way she stands when she's shy I love the way she goes to me to cry I love the way she talks I love the way she likes to kick rocks I love the way she gets all excited I love the way we are, reunited I love the way she makes weird faces I love the way her moles are in all places I love the way she's emotional at times I love the way she's so good at rhymes I love the way she thinks about every tweet I love the way she's nervous about people she meets I love the way she fantasizes about food I love the way she does so much good I love how you've showed me life (in the most amazing way ever) I love how you say "I love you forever" I love how you notice when I'm faking being fine I love how I love you and you're mine"
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
"I love everything about you."
I feel the pain and I push it away I’ll Fill my mind with other stuff today Yet you creep back in it’s hard to shake Wondering what you think and feel is hard to take I don’t know a thing, I’m in the dark My Parental pain tears at my heart The only thing that was sweet and pure Lost to me through class A allure I’m sorry baby, you will never know How I roll in pain and agony so But not for me, but for precious you A daddy should be a proud and stable statue I let you down and destroyed my soul I don't know who i am now, or where to go I’ve lost my baby, my heart and my pride The grass is never greener on the other side I will carry on fighting and I will never stop I will get you back I will come out on top... Yeah right, my fate is sealed No more cuddles, no more love I finally yield. Take her and take her fast And while you’re there point that gun and blast Oh that would be so simple, such an easy way out Just stupid thoughts from a useless lout I’m in a bad place, a deep depression, in a fudge Hours and days and thousands of pounds in front of a judge To no avail, I sit back broken and bent dead inside from the years fighting I've spent She was my anchor, my hopes and my pride She was also my deepest fears on an opposite tide Now those fears have finally come true 9 months 13 days and 2 hours since I last saw you. By J.N
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Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 9:08 AM UTC
Parental Pain
The boy inside my head remembers the girl inside yours. He wants to tell you that he still loves you...that he'll love you forever. He wants to tell you he's trapped and all alone. He sits in his cell scratching the days onto the wall. He draws pictures of your face and imagines holding your hand. If he ever gets to talk to you again, he pictures what he'd say... He would do anything for you to give him another chance. He knows he's a boy and he wishes he didn't have to be. But that boy inside his head didn't get a say on if he got to be a boy or not. He wishes that you'd open yourself up to let him care for you again. He wishes that you'd let yourself be the reason that he lives again. He wishes a lot. He wishes too much. He fears none of them won't come true but he can't stop because it keeps him alive. He envisions that chance. That he would take it slow and show you his love. That it would be the deepest display of emotion ever to come from him. He knows all too well you're not fond of boys- he's almost sorry he is one. But he loves you. He loves you so much. You're so beautiful to him. A beautiful person, not a beautiful girl. He misses you. He misses you so much. The world stops when you hug him. His heart flutters just thinking about it, still. You're heavenly to him. You took him places he'd never been before. Places he may never be again. You see, he wishes he could put into words for you, the feeling... He never needed anything more than your cuddles and hugs. Like a living, breathing, soft and loving security blanket, you were... Nothing in his life ever more peaceful than your arms or the touch of your lips. He never needed sex...please don't make it about *** What he really needed was you. He prays to a God he no longer believes in that maybe he could have a reason to believe again. He loves you, Elizabeth Raine. He loves you so **** much. He knows that's not enough. He will never be enough. You were once the reason he lived... You're now the reason he wants to die. You dumped him like utter trash and he still couldn't get over you. You said things that ripped out his soul. Acted like he had no soul to begin with... But ****** he loved you. He loves you. Like he promised, he always will. Your girly parts play no part. He wishes you'd understand how much deeper this is than that. How much you mean to him. How much you'll always mean to him, how you'll always be his sweet girl. At least, how he wishes you'd be his sweet girl once more. He wishes he could show you...that he could find a way. Tears roll down his face like the first rain of May. He just wants to be enough to experience heaven one more time... I'm afraid to inform him that heaven's long gone... Its not even in existence to experience anymore... But he'd **** himself...I can't push myself to let him know... He bought a ticket to hell.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
One Last Chance
The boy inside my head remembers the girl inside yours. He wants to tell you that he still loves you...that he'll love you forever. He wants to tell you he's trapped and all alone. He sits in his cell scratching the days onto the wall. He draws pictures of your face and imagines holding your hand. If he ever gets to talk to you again, he pictures what he'd say... He would do anything for you to give him another chance. He knows he's a boy and he wishes he didn't have to be. But that boy inside his head didn't get a say on if he got to be a boy or not. He wishes that you'd open yourself up to let him care for you again. He wishes that you'd let yourself be the reason that he lives again. He wishes a lot. He wishes too much. He fears none of them won't come true but he can't stop because it keeps him alive. He envisions that chance. That he would take it slow and show you his love. That it would be the deepest display of emotion ever to come from him. He knows all too well you're not fond of boys- he's almost sorry he is one. But he loves you. He loves you so much. You're so beautiful to him. A beautiful person, not a beautiful girl. He misses you. He misses you so much. The world stops when you hug him. His heart flutters just thinking about it, still. You're heavenly to him. You took him places he'd never been before. Places he may never be again. You see, he wishes he could put into words for you, the feeling... He never needed anything more than your cuddles and hugs. Like a living, breathing, soft and loving security blanket, you were... Nothing in his life ever more peaceful than your arms or the touch of your lips. He never needed sex...please don't make it about *** What he really needed was you. He prays to a God he no longer believes in that maybe he could have a reason to believe again. He loves you, Elizabeth Raine. He loves you so **** much. He knows that's not enough. He will never be enough. You were once the reason he lived... You're now the reason he wants to die. You dumped him like utter trash and he still couldn't get over you. You said things that ripped out his soul. Acted like he had no soul to begin with... But ****** he loved you. He loves you. Like he promised, he always will. Your girly parts play no part. He wishes you'd understand how much deeper this is than that. How much you mean to him. How much you'll always mean to him, how you'll always be his sweet girl. At least, how he wishes you'd be his sweet girl once more. He wishes he could show you...that he could find a way. Tears roll down his face like the first rain of May. He just wants to be enough to experience heaven one more time... I'm afraid to inform him that heaven's long gone... Its not even in existence to experience anymore... But he'd **** himself...I can't push myself to let him know... He bought a ticket to hell.
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51
Cuddles with my sis. Yes, please? I miss her face.
0
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
Cuddles Needed
Your lips touch mine and we hover just for a moment things seem fonder then reality sets in and i wonder why do i do this as he cuddles me closer trapped in a fantasy that will never come true you silly girl why would it for you? I toss and i turn for my cold thoughts can hurt frost bit and hot water its never my turn you have made her yours but nothings so sweet and am only and idea or maybe a play thing softly i hold you your skin against mine its great in the moment lets just stay frozen in time i want to let go but you give me no options i have to stay strong for my walls are made of copper
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Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
Copper Walls
+ A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night. As radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light. Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away. Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first fag plenty of time plenty of time. Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat. Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all. As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline Un angle vole un angle vole. Rockall - Malin - Hebrides Humber - Fisher - German bight Thames - Dover - Wight. Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good. Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air. The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me. Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about. Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day. Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers I have yet to meet
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Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 7:47 AM UTC
Brighton Early
+ A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night. As radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light. Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away. Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first fag plenty of time plenty of time. Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat. Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all. As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline Un angle vole un angle vole. Rockall - Malin - Hebrides Humber - Fisher - German bight Thames - Dover - Wight. Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good. Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air. The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me. Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about. Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day. Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers I have yet to meet
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