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"dibbled" poems
Cry me a river of joy, she said I knew she meant it, by the silence by the memory of her laughter, how she poked fun how she rubbed me down with giggles of mirth, bellies gyrating with angst and rambunctious passion I knew it It was not the idea of her that scared me, not anymore would I think of women that way What it was that scared me was how I knew we'd say goodbye and I'd be okay for once okay and happy she said goodbye... Happy we didn't shovel moats & forge keeps, establish plans of attack & surrender belabor, humming & hawing, over broken treaties, over civilian casualties the banishment of civil liberties and the proverbial dictatorships of, "I'm not the problem, so, it MUST be you." Reply with, "Yes, it is me." I knew it, "I'm sorry!" Jinx! Not this time. This time, she said goodbye. And so did I. At least, inside. And she meant it, and it was honest. And so was I. A small comfort. First of many... Her goodbye was a kiss that could rival daydreams of memories that are more remixed than the splotches of oil on a painter's palette, and, more dibbled and dabbled, than ten playlists of slow jams, in my arsenal of hopeless stratagems, bearing the desperate subtext of, 'park your rear end where I can't begin to ask honestly.' Because, honestly, if this weren't goodbye, I could only trade this goodbye, for ten thousand "Hello's" whose end and beginning are lost to the tides of status quo, of forget me nots and anniversaries, and picture frames of days where we forgot what 'goodbye' meant, because we learned to speak the truth... And isn't it the truth, that goodbye, was so much sweeter than, I can't stand, how much we fought for a t-shirt that eponymously said, "I cried over spilt milk, and all I got was this t-shirt." because none of us know the name of the game, but we know we hate playing it
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Mar 22, 2024
Mar 22, 2024 at 6:49 PM UTC
Her Sweetest Kiss Was Her Goodbye...
Cry me a river of joy, she said I knew she meant it, by the silence by the memory of her laughter, how she poked fun how she rubbed me down with giggles of mirth, bellies gyrating with angst and rambunctious passion I knew it It was not the idea of her that scared me, not anymore would I think of women that way What it was that scared me was how I knew we'd say goodbye and I'd be okay for once okay and happy she said goodbye... Happy we didn't shovel moats & forge keeps, establish plans of attack & surrender belabor, humming & hawing, over broken treaties, over civilian casualties the banishment of civil liberties and the proverbial dictatorships of, "I'm not the problem, so, it MUST be you." Reply with, "Yes, it is me." I knew it, "I'm sorry!" Jinx! Not this time. This time, she said goodbye. And so did I. At least, inside. And she meant it, and it was honest. And so was I. A small comfort. First of many... Her goodbye was a kiss that could rival daydreams of memories that are more remixed than the splotches of oil on a painter's palette, and, more dibbled and dabbled, than ten playlists of slow jams, in my arsenal of hopeless stratagems, bearing the desperate subtext of, 'park your rear end where I can't begin to ask honestly.' Because, honestly, if this weren't goodbye, I could only trade this goodbye, for ten thousand "Hello's" whose end and beginning are lost to the tides of status quo, of forget me nots and anniversaries, and picture frames of days where we forgot what 'goodbye' meant, because we learned to speak the truth... And isn't it the truth, that goodbye, was so much sweeter than, I can't stand, how much we fought for a t-shirt that eponymously said, "I cried over spilt milk, and all I got was this t-shirt." because none of us know the name of the game, but we know we hate playing it
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I fiddled ,dibbled and dabbled a bit until I came up with this crazy ish....in my travels I've definitely dibbled and dabbled and fiddled with things I've shouldn't have handled...with years of experience I still have so much to learn !!!lifes my canvas and I'm drawing my worth,,,an artist an artista I've tapdanced along making my own music to life's sweet song...even though I've dibbled and dabbled and fiddled so much...I will never again dibble dabble r fiddle when it comes to love..
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May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
fiddled