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"dustiest" poems
Leave my Nan out in the rain, it'll be right. She's having veg later with some meat, on a bone but meat. No gravy, she's too lazy. She will not thread it. So what do you think? Shall we fold it the other way? Do it tonight, it won't be today and not quite black but definitely not grey. If it smells like cheese, just wear one and keep one eye open! Then, we may even finish third. Remember, listen for the sound. It's crucial, like a twenty pence piece. Dust! Always dust. Grams and ounces of the dustiest dust. Never before six and never after six. Just continuous with no bends, bubbles or any of that material you really like. Because when he'd finished speaking (The Italian) I didn't understand a ******* word of it! "Sorry, I don't speak Italian", shrugged my shoulders, did that thing you do with your bottom lip and ****** off. THE END (FINITO)
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
The Italian.
It's hard not to fall in love with someone when they see the mixed up parts of your soul. When they understand the darkest and dustiest corners of your mind. When it's four a.m. and they call because they know you're not asleep
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I'm in love with the old you
everything about you screamed infinite the type of person I could spend forever trying to figure out sunsets and sunrises pass by like fast trains, and my minds still reeling a photographic memory is a blessing and a curse but right now its a gift i can remember every word spoken, every laugh and smile and i play it back like a movie the kind of spirit that makes you forget the hurt the universe cries but you remind me that it laughs too coexistence of bodies and minds, sweet and surreal worlds colliding at a rapid pace, they collide they become one everything about you screamed infinite everything about me screamed indefinite indecisiveness and paranoia floods my veins love and knowing floods yours a scale sits between the palms of our hands and is level, for we are balanced I lift my pen and let my hand guide my mind my fingers already know you and they haven’t felt you yet my page screams your name wholeheartedly vast space was left empty in the corners of my brain but they’re filled now, even in the dustiest of places everything about you screamed infinite
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Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
Everything About You Screamed Infinite
270 One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I—for it—would pay— My Soul’s entire income— In ceaseless—salary— One Pearl—to me—so signal— That I would instant dive— Although—I knew—to take it— Would cost me—just a life! The Sea is full—I know it! That—does not blur my Gem! It burns—distinct from all the row— Intact—in Diadem! The life is thick—I know it! Yet—not so dense a crowd— But Monarchs—are perceptible— Far down the dustiest Road!
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1.6k
One Life of so much Consequence!
I dreamed my own death, last night: dug down deep through dirges and dingy old dirt my bed and my tomb are one and the same. like a blanket the dirt piles above and like a mattress the dirt layers below. it gets so tiring, sometimes; sleep is a cousin to death. there are loved ones sobbing far away and others laid around me, lost and caught among the endless eddies and streams of neverending loneliness that we all have felt, some time. it is a common experience, a collective, conscious thought-- we float up and out of our bodies, our gases and our atoms mixing with the dirt, the mud, the worms and the bodies and the ever-lost matter of countless others come before and countless more come after. we are all living in order to die as after our death there will be nothing added and nothing left; the base materials, the elements and bits of star stuff have always been and always will be even when they are not us. really, it is the accepting of our own demise-- our ashes to ashes and the plastering of the dustiest of dusts that shall settle and lay on thick in layers and levels of lost and loopy illuminations of a mind that is filled with holes and rot.
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:33 PM UTC
I dreamed my own death
The memories fade The hurt abate The scars so deep; The flecks of red on walls so white. Sole testimony to the time. The knowing smiles The intoxicated wiles Lie abandoned in the dustiest attics of our minds While here I stand Outside  myself Done and dusted Weaving tales of a distant time
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Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
Attics
Every waking moment a painful reminder of the distance keeping us separate It's as though my hands are reaching for something I can't touch Time and space between us both only serves to cause another heartache another teardrop another painful flashback It's almost surreal whenever our paths cross She makes me whole filling empty spaces in my heart like elixer satiating my parched soul She plants roses in my veins and paint colours in my mind She makes reality a little more tolerable Her voice a cheerful ****** resonates throughout my entire being undulating even the dustiest chords in my soul Her eyes those soulful windows searches the recesses of my soul helping me find myself Her scent a lingering fragrance that never seems to dissipate from my mind She's the reason I remain awake at night She has turned reality into a sweet dream And every night I pray for her before I slip into slumber to dream of her
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
For Somebody
She can't even notice those eyes, those eyes that seem to take her threads off, her skin off. But they don't even know that by the time she reaches home, she cuts her skin so the blood would flow out of her sluggish veins. She can't even look at the sky, the sky that seemed to fall hard on her open wounds and scars. But the birds don't even know that as they chirped their way up and soar, she wishes for the moment when she could finally fly away from her lonely home. She can't even turn a deaf ear to a lie, a lie she wished she never had to hear, as if something so real. But his lips don't even know that as he tried to show it all, his lies made up a castle of thorns, of broken hopes, amused a girl not so strong. She can't even take a glance at everything around, everything around her that seems to crush her to the dustiest ground. But the world doesn't even know how she carries that smile, all to outbrave a surging vehemence, an anonymity behind. She can't spell her words but she sure has the guts, the guts to keep herself from treading off the expected path. But there's this one thing that she doesn't even really know, she may be made up of scars and lies and thorns, but the beauty in her has not really gone.
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Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
She
I sit here depressed at 2 AM and I can't help but wonder where the time went when did I go wrong and fall lose off track of my life, it causes fluttering heart attacks I feel solitary may bring solidarity I yearn to progress personally to singularity But I'm stuck in a rut and mud is taking over The Earth covers me with blankets, pulls me closer, A warm hug isn't what I want but what I needed From all these thoughts my brain is too heated and I'm scared of what's to come my friends are gone, if I ever had one I enter and leave this world by myself my life just one page in the dustiest book on the shelf It scares me that I won't be remembered my words service to see my image rendered in minds and hearts of those I have touched And with you the touch was too much I lay my hand upon your heart and it burned in, I can see the mark I'm not a bad person, but who am I? I take my body and throw it up to the sky A scar is what I left on you I can't heal it, not even with superglue but you will live on, and so will I and the only thing for us to do is try march your feet in the onward direction and at the end we meet our reflection Perhaps this is exactly what I need Cause for awhile all I have done is bleed
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
2 AM
It is the eyes *It Is The        Eyes That      Travels Into        Seas Of           Endlessness Into        Waves Of             Consciousness It         Is                            The                                  Eyes It         Is The            Eyes That                     Sparks               On                     Midnight's Blur       That           Calls Forth              Light                     Into* ________________________   **the               DARK** *It         Is                   The                              Eyes                            It                        Is                   The                Eyes             That          Reaches        For      Tomorrow's Dreams      That           Searches               Through                    Depths                        Of                           Souls                                That                                    Pierces                                       The                                            Dustiest                                                 Parches           Of      Hearts                    It is the eyes                          That                      Quenches                  The                Yearning           Of        The      Minds It         Is      The          Eyes* **It          Is       The             Eyes** Evna-Luna©©©©©©©©©© IT IS THE EYES
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Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
...... It is the eyes
It is the eyes *It Is The        Eyes That      Travels Into        Seas Of           Endlessness Into        Waves Of             Consciousness It         Is                            The                                  Eyes It         Is The            Eyes That                     Sparks               On                     Midnight's Blur       That           Calls Forth              Light                     Into* ________________________   **the               DARK** *It         Is                   The                              Eyes                            It                        Is                   The                Eyes             That          Reaches        For      Tomorrow's Dreams      That           Searches               Through                    Depths                        Of                           Souls                                That                                    Pierces                                       The                                            Dustiest                                                 Parches           Of      Hearts                    It is the eyes                          That                      Quenches                  The                Yearning           Of        The      Minds It         Is      The          Eyes* **It          Is       The             Eyes** Evna-Luna©©©©©©©©©© IT IS THE EYES
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Dear First Love. The first time I saw you You spoke to my ribs Gave me butterflies that still haven't died out today. The first time I spoke to you the words you whispered to me went into my brain, through my veins, & wrapped themselves tightly around my heart. I can't pull them off The first time I kissed you My skeletons danced on walls & only saw your shadow I fell in love with you the way you fall asleep. Slowly at first, then all at once. You're were the only one with the only love that's strong enough to claim me. You entered the darkest, dustiest parts of my heart & cleansed my soul Because of you I kept living I found someone more beautiful than death
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
Author Of My Feelings
it's an odd feeling To pass someone by and to know that their favourite colour is green and that they like only one sugar in  their tea and to remember slurred words that fell from their mouth and to remember that you know your way around the dustiest corners of their house to know that they hate being tickled on the curves of their hips or to know that you've placed countless kisses upon their hopelessly chapped lips but mostly it's just sad to pass someone by and to look at them knowing that never again will they stop to say hi
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Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
6/3/14
quiet minds lightly preoccupied unspoken words that don’t need to be said a white house in a white room where all the light is green pushed through an old bottle just the three of us, like it used to be     -minus one naivety lost it’s shadow still hangs in the dustiest corners of the room i leap through velvet mountains and dive through smokey books no sounds can penetrate the walls of our silence i can see the smile in your eyes twisting your face for the first time in forever giggles and remnants of the past as we delve into years back of white afternoons
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May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
white afternoons
When I was nine, I promised myself I would get rich from a card-making business. I made three sets of cards, then forgot about it. When I was ten, I promised my camp friend that I would write all the time. I wrote her three letters, but then one month I forgot to write a new one. I never remembered. When I was twelve, a girl from church pulled up her shirt sleeves to show me where she had drawn three red lines on her skin. I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, then called her grandmother as soon as I got home. When I was fourteen, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw too much of everything. I promised myself I would become skin and bone and light as a feather. I lost everything in three months, but even after that I was never small enough to fly away. When I was fifteen, I gave away my glass-box heart to a boy who promised he'd stick around this time. We went out three times, but now all I have left are the smudges from his fingerprints. Now I'm sixteen, and you're wading through the dustiest parts of me, promising it'll be okay. I wish I still believed in promises.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
promises
i'm sorry, you cannot understand, the madness; things left unsaid.. the fortress within my head, a free spirit, chained down. after all.. what would somebody do, with the secret, that is you? when we are all, just like animals.. just an animal. in the dustiest corners of your mind.. some pray to god, she turns the radio up.. every song is like a story, carrying her away with them, a listener.. listening and learning. being a listener, she became friends.. with the silence. got to know every nook and cranny of every noise, each reverberation, so vibrantly.. even so vibrant. she comes to notice; nobodies talking.. but EVERYONE wants to be heard. communication is key. when everyone's lost in translation.. understanding is everything. impulse.. impulsive creatures we are.. ever so impulsive. endlessly needing, yet needing no one? ..and wanting, everything. Alice.. down her rabbit hole she goes, " the way you perceive the world, it's so beautiful.." - well, how could it not be? you are here, and this is now.. what's better? The way you perceive is everything.. it's what you become, you ARE what you feel. i enjoy, enjoying the moment.. every raw moment for what it is. each breath, silky sweet.. don't be afraid to get lost in the moment.. that's what it's about, finding yourself. i mean, who are you? Really? Think back to your childhood, what did you wish to be? when your dreams roamed wild, and your spirit soared free? I am I, as you are you.. and we are one. United we stand , divided we fall.
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
A lesson from Lucy, in the Sky with Diamonds ♥
i'm sorry, you cannot understand, the madness; things left unsaid.. the fortress within my head, a free spirit, chained down. after all.. what would somebody do, with the secret, that is you? when we are all, just like animals.. just an animal. in the dustiest corners of your mind.. some pray to god, she turns the radio up.. every song is like a story, carrying her away with them, a listener.. listening and learning. being a listener, she became friends.. with the silence. got to know every nook and cranny of every noise, each reverberation, so vibrantly.. even so vibrant. she comes to notice; nobodies talking.. but EVERYONE wants to be heard. communication is key. when everyone's lost in translation.. understanding is everything. impulse.. impulsive creatures we are.. ever so impulsive. endlessly needing, yet needing no one? ..and wanting, everything. Alice.. down her rabbit hole she goes, " the way you perceive the world, it's so beautiful.." - well, how could it not be? you are here, and this is now.. what's better? The way you perceive is everything.. it's what you become, you ARE what you feel. i enjoy, enjoying the moment.. every raw moment for what it is. each breath, silky sweet.. don't be afraid to get lost in the moment.. that's what it's about, finding yourself. i mean, who are you? Really? Think back to your childhood, what did you wish to be? when your dreams roamed wild, and your spirit soared free? I am I, as you are you.. and we are one. United we stand , divided we fall.
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51
I dream of waking next to your smile and dreaming Beside you Of exploring The dustiest corners Of our memories and sweeping away All the sad Grabbing our Lost souls By the hands And pretending we know Where to take them I dream of loving you till the sunlight creeps into the crevices of our eyelids but does not wake us I dream of listening To the silence while our eyes whisper sweet thoughts that linger in our minds like the scent of summer’s breath I dream of holding you Forever, my love But forever is a long, long time And since my Young mind Cannot yet grasp infinity Just love me Till my heart Stops
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May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Forever is a long, long time
for we, the broken, it is a gift to share our laughter, but, love, it is a much greater gift to share our tears, to expose our sadness, to make vulnerable the darkest the dustiest corners of our minds, the places where we sit and think and stay silent alone the places that are our homes
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Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
we the broken
months ago at this exact time i found myself pouring another cup of coffee to continue a daydream of you months ago at this exact time i found myself clinging to my phone awaiting just a few words from you with heavy eyes and hopeful heart months ago at this exact time i found myself discovering the dustiest corners of your souls one night at a time months ago at this exact time i found myself daring to ask you how long forever would be with lit eyes and hungry heart months ago at this time i never would have imagined that months later at this exact time you would be falling asleep and i would be falling apart because our forever wasnt what I wished for months ago at this exact time
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Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
2:58 a.m.
Craving attention from the sunshine- How divine it is To not be dicked down. Frowned upon- now that I'm Of age. Depraved; In the dustiest of ways. Parting ways with Hazed days Laced with lust. Trading them in For sanity- The only thing I can trust. Rusting away Waiting for someone to Touch me.
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May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Nature's *****
I loved you because when you said, “let me make love to you” you sounded like a drunk pleading for one more drink I loved you because even after I confessed my dustiest secrets you still looked at me like I was heaven’s missing angel I loved you because you thought the scars on my thighs formed the most beautiful constellations and you wanted to map out each one I loved you because you loved me more than I ever could I left you because you loved me more than I ever could
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Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Untitled #2
In my years of practice, I have known how to deal with losing How to cope with the pain, the hurt, and all the baggages It usually takes me 7 bottles of beers, a shot of tequila, and a drunk call every night for 3 months I have known how to deal with the questions, asked to me everyday by every person who has come to know my story I have mastered how it is to struggle with the memories the pictures, clothes on the closet, writings on my walls the letters, the texts messages, the whispers behind my ear I have known how to deal with people leaving I am not the person everyone remembers first when they say forever I am not the person anyone remembers I am always the person they try to forget scrub away from their skin, the poison in their blood stream I have come in peace with the art of leaving You came and all that crashed, all down the drain All my preparations for the storm, gone You came and all my heart could do was try not to explode every time I steal glances your way I tried not to take our conversations as something you looked forward to everyday I tried to stay away but my soul gets tired of pulling away It knows what it wants, and you know I won't give up without a fight I know you're not going to stay but **** it My ******* soul recognizes yours It has gone all out to make you see how much they know each other Why do you have to set camp here, where it's a mess and nothing is good enough for your hands, your fingers, your touch Why did you let me in, where all I could do is stay in awe of how enough I am for your late night random phone calls Why do you have to tell me you have feelings for me but let me stay in places where no one recognizes me - your heart still silently wishes it wasn't me your soul still searching, something that does not resemble me I have always told you to never settle But now I am telling you I am willing to be the purple bruise, the reckless bump on the wrong side of the table the turn that leads to places only we know of the stubborn decision over bottles of beer, breaths of poison the speed dial # 2, the drunk dial, the **** dial, as long as you call me the bad poetry, the rhymes that do not add up to a beautiful piece the last drop of ink on your teal pen the favorite shirt but is too short, too used to still use the photo, kept in the dustiest part of your closet the secret, the well-thought off outsider the painting you never get the time to finish the almost I have always been the person who leaves I'm going to stay
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
XXXVII
In my years of practice, I have known how to deal with losing How to cope with the pain, the hurt, and all the baggages It usually takes me 7 bottles of beers, a shot of tequila, and a drunk call every night for 3 months I have known how to deal with the questions, asked to me everyday by every person who has come to know my story I have mastered how it is to struggle with the memories the pictures, clothes on the closet, writings on my walls the letters, the texts messages, the whispers behind my ear I have known how to deal with people leaving I am not the person everyone remembers first when they say forever I am not the person anyone remembers I am always the person they try to forget scrub away from their skin, the poison in their blood stream I have come in peace with the art of leaving You came and all that crashed, all down the drain All my preparations for the storm, gone You came and all my heart could do was try not to explode every time I steal glances your way I tried not to take our conversations as something you looked forward to everyday I tried to stay away but my soul gets tired of pulling away It knows what it wants, and you know I won't give up without a fight I know you're not going to stay but **** it My ******* soul recognizes yours It has gone all out to make you see how much they know each other Why do you have to set camp here, where it's a mess and nothing is good enough for your hands, your fingers, your touch Why did you let me in, where all I could do is stay in awe of how enough I am for your late night random phone calls Why do you have to tell me you have feelings for me but let me stay in places where no one recognizes me - your heart still silently wishes it wasn't me your soul still searching, something that does not resemble me I have always told you to never settle But now I am telling you I am willing to be the purple bruise, the reckless bump on the wrong side of the table the turn that leads to places only we know of the stubborn decision over bottles of beer, breaths of poison the speed dial # 2, the drunk dial, the **** dial, as long as you call me the bad poetry, the rhymes that do not add up to a beautiful piece the last drop of ink on your teal pen the favorite shirt but is too short, too used to still use the photo, kept in the dustiest part of your closet the secret, the well-thought off outsider the painting you never get the time to finish the almost I have always been the person who leaves I'm going to stay
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46
I felt alone but I wasn’t. I was silently lying next to you but I felt empty; like a coffee cup emptied of its elixir. I thought this moment was the perfect time to venture out into the dustiest corners of my mind.
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Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
Liberation
Is there somewhere..anywhere, far enough from here that I will be able to escape you from the dustiest corners of my soul?
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Untitled
You crept into the fissures of my brain And you tidied the dustiest corners of my mind. You got through the cracks of my fears, Around the rifts in my trepidations And on top of my deepest enigmas. You reached down into the crevices of my doubts And relieved me of their burdens. But since you've left I have started to gather dust again. My crevices have started to fill up And again I am weighted down with their might.
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Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Gathering Dust
She sat there with her rusty voice box, a  drought on her tongue and a pen aching to flood the pristine sheet with blue ink. She poured pain into words of refuge and tucked the love etched memories into words. She wrote to the ones she loved, who made her heart beat ever so intensely. For who rooted her strengthening her spine with courage. For the ones who betrayed, abandoned and hurt making her swallow sorrows whole on empty stomach. She undressed her truth as she painted shades of past, resurfacing the suppressed from the dustiest parts of her mind, reigniting the dying embers. As she wrote thoughts screamed to be heard, memories weeped to be replayed as she crafted sentences, paragraphs, beginning and ends, sunrises and sunsets; the breathing of her heart allowing her to feel a sense of relief. But she never sent them, for they were riskier to be read by them than to be tucked safely away.
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
Letters