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"embarassing" poems
The ****** They say that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, however the ****** is a gold mine. Women do not even know what their possess many a nation have gone to war, because of this ugly beauty, the seven hundred wives of King Solomon and his three hundred concubines a great example of what the ugly beauty can do. Infidelity is on the rise, so many lies, since the ****** is an embarassing subject why men lie and killed for it, For this remarkable commodity A ****** is like a Van Gogh painting, it gets lot of attention. A weapon so powerful It can break a man down to his lowest it has a language of its own. silly words like sup, sup, sup. during loving making However, that was supposed to be the primary appeal of a beer to men. The ****** and a beer have so much in common they both get their men all the time, a smooth transportation, in addition, the lamentation, ****** you are surely number one! Men incredible dreams, No matter how destructive or fulfilling,. .
0
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 3:23 PM UTC
The ******
I chose ice-cream Over yogurt; Strawberry, vanilla or chocolate. Each equally without prejudice Attracted. The fifteen year old server Was kinda short; The vanilla tub had about three scoops Remaining, Stacked hidden like frozen snow-balls As in war games. His task would have been daunting And embarassing, And I, a humanitarian From higher education, An altruist from St. Joseph's, Could not allow it. The chocolate tub Was yet covered, And the sobbing child's cries Were hardening in my ears As Dad tried to allay His chocolate tears, Applying the five second rule. I am an empath By nature and poetry, So, turning from chocolate, Left me strawberrry. Triple scoop too. I believe You thought through Your choices Like flavors of ice-cream. Being imaginative, I do.
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
Ice-Cream
I never told you this, it's a bit embarassing, but every wish I make, I make it for you. Every penny thrown into fountains, every lucky stars shinning bright, every last cigarette of the pack, is a wish for you I wish that your troubles will go away. I wish that you will no longer need those antidepressants. I wish that you finally get the break you need. If it means I'll never see you again, if it means you'll forget about me, so be it. You deserve to be happy.
0
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
Goodbye and goodluck
. . . I have been seeking a new kingdom to call home and your heart, like a castle hides behind great walls, where both the strong and weak share embarassing flaws. Unlike just any castle, yours is not on top of a great hill, nor in the midist of a forest beyond where the waters chill, its right infront of everyones face who decides to pay attention, funny that many by pass it because they never seek it, but are ever seeking attention. Unlike in fairytales, its guarded by pride, humbleness, care and a huge ego, it rages against anyone who tries to love and care for it, but when it loves back, it never lets go. Like any castle out there, forcing yourself in will hurt both you and those in it, the hours you'll take destroying can not be compared to the years you'll take rebuilding it. So I made up my mind to stand at the gates of these great walls, perfectly built brick for brick, to proclaim my honour and loyalty for you,to make a promise and stick to it, because I would rather help you guard it, than play pirate to break down your walls. So Knight me your majesty, as I report for duty to guard and protect everything that lays behind your great walls. . . . . . let me make it my new home. . .
0
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
A Knight Without A Castle
'Hahahaha' They laughed. They laugh at my insecurities, They laugh at my embarassing moments, They laugh at my face, They laugh at me. They laugh, they laugh, they laugh*. They don't seem to care or realize the whirling emotions within me. They don't seem to care at all. They just laugh, And I don't think it's funny at all. { E.I }
0
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
They laugh
Parents: Overbearing, too controlling, always out of line, demanding, embarassing. Cruelty undefined, liars, protectors, lovers, homewreckers, caring, kind, considerate, bossy, loving, sweet, caregivers. And definitively Mine. <3
0
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 9:38 PM UTC
Mine
Today in class, I saw you writing a spreadsheet Numbering girls looks from 1 to 10 You gave me a 7, told me that was alright But I don't want you to define my beauty with a number To the government, I'm just a digit To charities, I'm a statistic To businesses, I'm only the amount I own I want to go back to the days when you wrote poems about me You caressed my flaws and kissed my imperfections The day you told me I was gorgeous, I looked myself in the mirror "I'm actually pretty" "I'm like all those other girls" I told myself But what's changed since then? When you fell out of love with me, did my importance sink too? With a clear view, do my downfalls and my embarassing body diguist you? You were too insensitive to show the slightest bit of affection So you labelled me, gave me an average and put me in a category To you, I just want to be human To be beautiful To be loved
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
inelegance of a number
She came into my life a karmic explosion over a pristine midnight blue upstate New York lake, its breath damp and warm and sweet. Gasping, labored efforts expelled a preganant breath, a prelude to life. Blackflies engaged in rutualistic seance. Lethagic mosquitos emerged from the evening's sweet mist. But then raged into frantic spirals, squealing out futile messages. Timid pines, guardians of the ancient site, loosed their rigid stance, Prickly spines shivered to the ground. Anxiously, they awaited rumors that would quell the fetal dread that flowed through veins, invading their bliss. A bulky mass stirred from somnolent state in that mud-lined basin, releasing brown ribbons of agitation, and inciting a ravenous hunger. Friendly galaxies, former guides in his dream state, abandoned his cause, flickering a vague adieu. Having cradled him for so long, the slick muddy floor now sent him flailing to and fro, an ungainly dance, embarassing to watch. Where once he thrived, he now gasped for air.
0
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
For Bob
Yesterday I was a school going kid Always Hungry for knowledge Always Thirsty for lessons of life Obediently sitting in a large noisy class Listening and recording every words preached Hoping they were stored forever... Or atleast before the exam day was over Today I still go to school Twice a week with a bunch of happy people We have fun learning! embarassing ourselves mostly In the most intellectual way!! laughing at ourselves for being silly Sometimes unsure whether we are hungry or thirsty But knowledge is like the sea... Endless and wide. Rather ... We are desperate to digest it all The ZPD, Scaffolding, Sociocultural and Constructivism? Hey hey whose theory? And Skinner, Pavlov, Vygotsky and Chomsky Hope they are here to tell us a story. To go or to let go Hard .. dont you know? Decided to go with the flow... Determined that one day We will stand tall On that humble stage Wearing that long pretty robe ... in our hands a scroll... There's nothing like having a PHD With your sweat and tears... and a whole lot of laughters too.... The feelings? Of course... unexplainable The experience? PRICELESS!!!
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
PHD PARANOIA
life is strange. I wonder frequently why I am conscious did the me that I am spring to be out of nothingness? "energy cannot be created; nor destroyed" what was I, then, before I became me? sometimes, I daydream and imagine that before being born into this hell I was just beams of enegy shooting out from a supernova. flying past star systems and comets and nothingness being almost nothing no consciousness not yet that is just a daydream. I am not religious. but the concept of heaven seems pretty ****** to me. bliss, **** I don't want eternal anything. I would get used to it. living in bliss would become normal even if it is a stark contrast from the way I am living right now. no, personally, my idea is that when I die my consciousness evaporates my soul becomes what I was before me and I no longer have thoughts, or emotions. that used to scare me. it's not frightening, because in nothingness, you have no concept of frightening. you also have no concept of happiness but none of sadness either. no embarassing memories or boredom or headaches or being sick I won't even be able to miss my dogs for I will have no concept of them. I am not scared of death nor nothingness I welcome them but will wait until I get an invite. one of the biggest questions that used to plague me was why does anything exist at all? I don't think there's an answer as to why. I think it just does. and existence means experiencing all of it the happiness, the ******* the anger and depression duality is in everything I am not horrible well, in some ways I am but in an equal amount I am also wonderful and the same goes for you, too, though I see each side of the duality of your being as something beautiful.
0
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 2:04 AM UTC
DEATH AND A BIT OF DUALITY
life is strange. I wonder frequently why I am conscious did the me that I am spring to be out of nothingness? "energy cannot be created; nor destroyed" what was I, then, before I became me? sometimes, I daydream and imagine that before being born into this hell I was just beams of enegy shooting out from a supernova. flying past star systems and comets and nothingness being almost nothing no consciousness not yet that is just a daydream. I am not religious. but the concept of heaven seems pretty ****** to me. bliss, **** I don't want eternal anything. I would get used to it. living in bliss would become normal even if it is a stark contrast from the way I am living right now. no, personally, my idea is that when I die my consciousness evaporates my soul becomes what I was before me and I no longer have thoughts, or emotions. that used to scare me. it's not frightening, because in nothingness, you have no concept of frightening. you also have no concept of happiness but none of sadness either. no embarassing memories or boredom or headaches or being sick I won't even be able to miss my dogs for I will have no concept of them. I am not scared of death nor nothingness I welcome them but will wait until I get an invite. one of the biggest questions that used to plague me was why does anything exist at all? I don't think there's an answer as to why. I think it just does. and existence means experiencing all of it the happiness, the ******* the anger and depression duality is in everything I am not horrible well, in some ways I am but in an equal amount I am also wonderful and the same goes for you, too, though I see each side of the duality of your being as something beautiful.
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107
i was looking for you but found a girl named Cacy instead except im not entirely sure how she spelt it maybe Kasey? Casey? Kacie? She told me she wanted to start going by Cass (Kass?) though i told her that i knew a girl named Cass and even though it was a lie she couldnt tell or maybe she could but either way she said that the name "Cass" was a "fuckable" name, a name that was bound to "get some" and i had nodded with that sheepish grin you hate and started to shake with that embarassing nervousness that annoys you and she held my hand and lit a cigarette she told me that she hated smokers but that it "blurs the edges" i told her that i was all edges she asked why and so i told her about you and how i was looking but how i had found her and how i very much preferred to have found her instead she gave me a cigarette and i coughed because you know i have asthma i said thanks and called her Cass and she had smiled because i think she was starting to grow quite fond of the sound of the name i coughed out my name and she told me about how Peter Pan was "hot" and how wendy was the biggest **** ever we laughed and we smoked we talked and we shivered we went inside and we slept and i didnt cheat even though Cass was quite fuckable i slept and dreamt of her rather than you and woke up much happier than i have ever been.
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Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC
Cass
It leaves you, no active power, no direction, Listless, unable to program, build,- a mockery. Worst, the low depairing. embarassing shrouds. Without that centre; a discrete despair - please don't mention. Hopelessness remains - just so much broken crockery. Contempt rises from old mates. Passed fluffed up clouds!
0
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Early Retirement - A hidden statistic
Late night hours, paperwork spread on the bed all this work for a future she dreads The hands spin fowards, a black and blue picture all this pressure like an annoyance filled blister Like my own, she wants reward with no work ready to spring, but hold back and lurk This is a short tale, full of too many words all here to distract you like a drunken zebra herd All she wants is security and comfort nothing matters but her kindfolk's support All she needs is fifteen seconds of embarassing bravery but with these scholarly shackles is feels like slavery.
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Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC
These Scholarly Chains
My heart is embarassing. It bleeds and cries And loves too strongly For it's own good. It loves as if It has never been broken, As if it has forgotten The countless times It's been left bruised And bloodied, Half alive. It loves so unconditionally That I've let myself Be tossed to the wind And returned to the ground At the whims of mere memories. It loves so pathetically That I do all I can To make sure my love Does not come spilling Out of my mouth For onlookers to see. I keep my passions And my aches away from the world So that I don't overwhelm Everyone else With the love that overwhelms me. I can't just say how I feel I can't just open my gates Because as much as you would like to believe That everything inside me is beautiful, It's as ugly as anything could ever be. I can't just let you know How pathetically Embarrassingly Ridiculously In love with you I am. What if you don't feel the same? That's a stupid question I'm sorry I know no one could ever love me With the sadness I love them
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
Blushing heart
Someone once told me that I was "for keeps". I've never been a fan of any type of label, but I've wondered how he had shelved me in two words. I've sought out its meaning. Maybe it was the same as how he was always proud of his vintage toy collection. I was there for his quartlery dose of nostalgia. The novelty of us was something that made him grin. It could be how another liked to treasure letters from lovers past. Only to flood himself in regret. The names and faces garbled in the salt water. I learned it was not the same as how my neighbour cut the thorns of the rosebushes, and left the buds for him to adore. He always kept the scissors by his bedside. The only things I have managed to keep are my pinky promises, my drafts from two years ago, and my used bandaids. It's embarassing to recount how unmade, unfinished, and uncertain I've been. But if I were to love you, I will not tell you you are worth keeping. Holding you would be selfish to the universe. I cannot possess your thoughts and your soul, your charm will pour itself from my grandmother's china. Pictures will not be taken. Maybe just one, to show my friends the uncanny resemblance you share with my favorite poet. I will unknowingly breathe you in, only to heave heavy sighs into your mouth. We will thrive among white lies and speak about tomorrows with fistfuls of hourglass sand in our pockets. We will borrow light and pay in forms of miles we need to walk. I have never wanted to be called a keeper, nor have I ever wanted to keep. The world can only afford to lend beautiful pieces of itself.
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Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
For Keeps
Someone once told me that I was "for keeps". I've never been a fan of any type of label, but I've wondered how he had shelved me in two words. I've sought out its meaning. Maybe it was the same as how he was always proud of his vintage toy collection. I was there for his quartlery dose of nostalgia. The novelty of us was something that made him grin. It could be how another liked to treasure letters from lovers past. Only to flood himself in regret. The names and faces garbled in the salt water. I learned it was not the same as how my neighbour cut the thorns of the rosebushes, and left the buds for him to adore. He always kept the scissors by his bedside. The only things I have managed to keep are my pinky promises, my drafts from two years ago, and my used bandaids. It's embarassing to recount how unmade, unfinished, and uncertain I've been. But if I were to love you, I will not tell you you are worth keeping. Holding you would be selfish to the universe. I cannot possess your thoughts and your soul, your charm will pour itself from my grandmother's china. Pictures will not be taken. Maybe just one, to show my friends the uncanny resemblance you share with my favorite poet. I will unknowingly breathe you in, only to heave heavy sighs into your mouth. We will thrive among white lies and speak about tomorrows with fistfuls of hourglass sand in our pockets. We will borrow light and pay in forms of miles we need to walk. I have never wanted to be called a keeper, nor have I ever wanted to keep. The world can only afford to lend beautiful pieces of itself.
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8
Dude i have no clue no ******* idea... why i continue to fantasize about chue.... idk... what is it... like 8th grade... you... the memory continues... after these past 2 years i still fantasize about you ....and i cant picture you accepting me... for who i am i can't ....like when i picture you ...like i have to be o some mila kunis, megan fox, kim k typa **** its like i have to be this trophy in order to keep attention ...its like i knew you liked me ....and it was an interesting attatchment ill say.... but... i guess it wasnt meant to be i was looking for a **** buddy back then and so were you we were 8th ******* graders i was immature af.... i didnt know **** tbh... i was an air head... who only cared about boys, popularity, friends, and herself... i was a ***** lowkey i wanted to be on top... of the world ...of that school ...of him lol but i was on the inside ...insecure but he made me... he fooled me ..into thinking he was securing me ....like **** i was a fool and i was def crushin on em but now.... its really embarassing to think about like....fuck *** was 8th...the **** ya know that whole shabang was really messin up and im done with that past pretending... insecurity.. attention.. like.... i am over that you were real to at the time i was insecure looking for someone to clench on to keep me up motivate me ....but you did the opposite you were like a demon in disguise ...no offense i mean at the time speaking but i dont want to cringe... when i see a pretty *** girl i dont need to pretend to be "pretty" nor what you want nor be that ***** because im not ...im so much more ....like....fuck im done living a life in the shadows a hidden life my life...is what is what it is take it... leave it i dont care you are gone im never gonna see you ever again but i mean im sorry we couldnt be friends but the tide the flows gotta flow ive gotta go take **** and ill keep it in the toilet...lets say that
0
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
James
Dude i have no clue no ******* idea... why i continue to fantasize about chue.... idk... what is it... like 8th grade... you... the memory continues... after these past 2 years i still fantasize about you ....and i cant picture you accepting me... for who i am i can't ....like when i picture you ...like i have to be o some mila kunis, megan fox, kim k typa **** its like i have to be this trophy in order to keep attention ...its like i knew you liked me ....and it was an interesting attatchment ill say.... but... i guess it wasnt meant to be i was looking for a **** buddy back then and so were you we were 8th ******* graders i was immature af.... i didnt know **** tbh... i was an air head... who only cared about boys, popularity, friends, and herself... i was a ***** lowkey i wanted to be on top... of the world ...of that school ...of him lol but i was on the inside ...insecure but he made me... he fooled me ..into thinking he was securing me ....like **** i was a fool and i was def crushin on em but now.... its really embarassing to think about like....fuck *** was 8th...the **** ya know that whole shabang was really messin up and im done with that past pretending... insecurity.. attention.. like.... i am over that you were real to at the time i was insecure looking for someone to clench on to keep me up motivate me ....but you did the opposite you were like a demon in disguise ...no offense i mean at the time speaking but i dont want to cringe... when i see a pretty *** girl i dont need to pretend to be "pretty" nor what you want nor be that ***** because im not ...im so much more ....like....fuck im done living a life in the shadows a hidden life my life...is what is what it is take it... leave it i dont care you are gone im never gonna see you ever again but i mean im sorry we couldnt be friends but the tide the flows gotta flow ive gotta go take **** and ill keep it in the toilet...lets say that
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85
I waited, I waited, I waited, and I waited a little bit longer. Someday, somehow, somebody had to save me. They had to, they did, because I never thought that I could save myself. And you know what? I didn't have to. We wait for the one because anything else would be simply embarassing. But I didn't get one, oh no. I got three. The moon. The stars. The sun. Eventually everything stopped making sense. There was a wolf knocking on my door, and I was begging him to break it down. Wolves howl at the moon, that's just their nature. But he never did. He spent hours and hours just sitting, just staring. Waiting? What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf. Big, brown eyes. The moon saved me from my past. The stars shone like jewels that night, the night that I encountered the troll. Trolls live under bridges, that's just what they're used to. He asked me his riddle, I gave him my answers. All of the wicked games and aggressive glares followed us. They followed us all the way back under the bridge. The stars saved me from my future. For the first time, I saw the sun. An existence of wanting and waiting was made that little bit easier by it's bright, nourishing light. The sun made me forget why I had once cowered in fear, once shaken with anger. The sun saved me from my life. I don't remember when things stopped making sense. Maybe it was the night I tore my chest apart and screamed below the moon. Maybe it was the night I spoke to the stars and they spoke back. Maybe it was the morning that the sun made me forget.
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Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
The Moon, The Stars, The Sun
I waited, I waited, I waited, and I waited a little bit longer. Someday, somehow, somebody had to save me. They had to, they did, because I never thought that I could save myself. And you know what? I didn't have to. We wait for the one because anything else would be simply embarassing. But I didn't get one, oh no. I got three. The moon. The stars. The sun. Eventually everything stopped making sense. There was a wolf knocking on my door, and I was begging him to break it down. Wolves howl at the moon, that's just their nature. But he never did. He spent hours and hours just sitting, just staring. Waiting? What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf. Big, brown eyes. The moon saved me from my past. The stars shone like jewels that night, the night that I encountered the troll. Trolls live under bridges, that's just what they're used to. He asked me his riddle, I gave him my answers. All of the wicked games and aggressive glares followed us. They followed us all the way back under the bridge. The stars saved me from my future. For the first time, I saw the sun. An existence of wanting and waiting was made that little bit easier by it's bright, nourishing light. The sun made me forget why I had once cowered in fear, once shaken with anger. The sun saved me from my life. I don't remember when things stopped making sense. Maybe it was the night I tore my chest apart and screamed below the moon. Maybe it was the night I spoke to the stars and they spoke back. Maybe it was the morning that the sun made me forget.
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40
it's morning, you know we could paint a still life with our impotent fingers or cook eggs with every spice in the drawer we could dig holes in the front yard, bury treasures in front of button-down commuters get smashingly drunk forget where we put them dig them up and be convincingly surprised. we could pretend our hands are ****** hands our eyes new canvases and record like **** Rembrandts the embarassing details we could make a creek of pillows from one side of the house to another roll the entire length of it naked and end up tangled in each other when they run out There is a whole day ahead of us, a whole world ahead of us - a world of misery separated from us by firecracker smoke, by cannonsmoke. We have the house to ourselves we could duct tape cardboard to the exterior and pretend its one big refrigerator box we could jettison old ball mice and fat computer monitors into the driveway ***** a campfire in the living room and imagine that we have rebelled against something fittingly awful, the modern world scowling at our rusticity we could make a tincan telephone that connects the entire cul-de-sac and dress up smart and sell it as charmingly as Ma Bell door-to-door But our refined brains think two things: *** again, handcuffed to maturity, or sleep. What a world. What a longing. What our age must suggest. What an excuse: your starched reputation. What courage could come from your bleached conscience. How lovely to be trapped.
0
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:42 AM UTC
The Puddles By Evening
I crave it, the smell of raw earth that is fertile and pregnant with anxiety newborn vulnerability mixed with a ****** innocence desire, pure and unfiltered in its most childish and embarassing form the smell of raw earth is what I live for when the grass has been torn up and all that is there is possibility roots snaking and enticing through fresh ground, the birthing-place of all things alien familiar only to other aliens I am new and I can smell the newness here as I fill my lungs with that which has been written and found filled written and done, dirt is the ankles of the world the calves, thighs, and what's between them forever moving and shifting restlessly, frustrated, rising and falling beneath the soft fur of grass, hoping for the grace and gifts of the gentle soft baby leaves and sprouts to come upon the raw earth and take it to its highest love.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
dirt
Must I remember? The scent of your hair The shampoo's we share Life is so unfair Must I remember? For the couple shirts we bought It's embarassing, we first thought But we wore it everyday, for the sake of our plot Must I remember? Those seductive eyes? It got me mesmerized Like the morning sunrise Must I remember? This unskippable beat? As we rode the street With your lips on my cheek Must I remember? As we walk by the shore It tickles my core For the "I Love You" that you swore Must I remember? For the dreams that we share? In the meadows we stare When you embrace me, I can tell Must I remember? When I took the toll? My tears began to fall For you are my wall Must I remember? The moment you say yes? For the love I express I was heavily blessed Must I remember? The day you said Goodnight? As you began your flight An unforgettable sight Must I remember it all? As I stand by your grave? You wanted me to be brave But I'm forever a slave To our love which we engrave                                                                                 Must I forget you then?                               Theses memories, are they a burden? With you now gone, It's all a sudden                                                                 What about these wedding ring?                                                           I cry eveytime I sing,                           Your favorite melody It feeds my anxiety Now I look upon the sky                                   I can never comply                                                       As I invoke my tragic loss                                                                             For the Love Without Us
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
For the love without us
Must I remember? The scent of your hair The shampoo's we share Life is so unfair Must I remember? For the couple shirts we bought It's embarassing, we first thought But we wore it everyday, for the sake of our plot Must I remember? Those seductive eyes? It got me mesmerized Like the morning sunrise Must I remember? This unskippable beat? As we rode the street With your lips on my cheek Must I remember? As we walk by the shore It tickles my core For the "I Love You" that you swore Must I remember? For the dreams that we share? In the meadows we stare When you embrace me, I can tell Must I remember? When I took the toll? My tears began to fall For you are my wall Must I remember? The moment you say yes? For the love I express I was heavily blessed Must I remember? The day you said Goodnight? As you began your flight An unforgettable sight Must I remember it all? As I stand by your grave? You wanted me to be brave But I'm forever a slave To our love which we engrave                                                                                 Must I forget you then?                               Theses memories, are they a burden? With you now gone, It's all a sudden                                                                 What about these wedding ring?                                                           I cry eveytime I sing,                           Your favorite melody It feeds my anxiety Now I look upon the sky                                   I can never comply                                                       As I invoke my tragic loss                                                                             For the Love Without Us
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54
I feel different when im with him. I feel safe,like he likes me for me I feel like i dont have to be embarresd to laugh or smile. When i do something embarassing, he just lets it go. We are so much alike. I've never been this way. He saw his name on my hand and thought it was cute, and took a pic. Most guys think its weird.. He's a country boy, and when im in his arms.. The whole world stops. Im really happy. know one can take it from me. But him.. If he leaves
0
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 10:30 AM UTC
I feel different
I will take the harshness, And a beating I can bear. Even though it's undeserved, Embarassing and unfair. You can tell me what to say, And criticize all that I do. And I will bend right over, So it's easier for you. I will be all your effort, So you won't have to try. In fact I will do anything. But don't ask me to lie.
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Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
Honest Employees **** Don't They?
Note to the reader: I give any reader permission to give this to their mother. Your mother deserves better than Hallmark. Although you should write your own, I understand not all have the ability. No need to ask or tell me you used this. Thank you for reading this piece I wrote for my mother. To You This isn't for you because this pales in comparison For all the things you do for me, it is embarassing Yet you endure me every sun and moon Despite all the people in this world that thinks I'm a loon But I don't want this to be about me This is for all things you do, selflessly, for free You don't deserve what the world has dealt you Gold and jewels wouldn't be enough for all that you do Maybe one day you won't have so many burdens Or will be properly compensated I can't promise either of those things All I have are these words of gratitude Thank you I wish I could convey this sentiment better I love you more than I could ever explain in this letter Happy Mother's Day, even though you deserve a year or later
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
Mother's Day 2016
living without you is painful, at first the amount of time crying over bath drains oh then there's the drunken conversation with strangers its embarassing, how i will tear my life apart when you're gone then after about six months, someone with a hero complex comes along and i will allow them to invest time and affection into me that i have no intentions of returning it'll be a cheap distraction, not even thrilling - but i will project my attachment onto the unsuspecting soul they won't know any better, and i will recover quickly after the break with them in an attempt to rid my hair of your scent, to rub your prints off my bones i will cover it up with strangers' lips and other boys' habits, a quick fix then after a year or so i will allow myself to drink too much and spend the night talking about who i am really thinking of and if they're smart then they run if not, they hang around and keep putting ****** adhesive on a wound that i need therapy for and i grow to resent them for trying to be better than you, even though that's what i trained them for, my body rolls with waves of heat because there is no way i turn into a cruel monster, breaking as many minds as i can reach because if not, i would have to admit to what i am feeling, and what i feel is the idea of settling, the spine choking ***** inducing settling of your life being mundane, accepting a life without you in it is exactly that to me
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
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