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"intrigues" poems
skin so dark, glowing so light melanin within you intrigues my fire I look upon your chocolate blessing me with grace I use my tongue to runneth down your smooth brown face .
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
burnt brass
You asked me who I want to be, so here’s my answer: I want to be FEARLESS & SELFISH I want to walk above the ground I want to give my thank you speech And wear the crown I want to open my voice I want to tell them exactly how I feel And not give a **** about their ideals I want room to grow from a fraction to a whole I want my world to revolve around ME And be able act fierce and carefree I want to be the woman that intrigues strangers I want to bravely approach them with friendly banter And have spontaneous encounters that brings on laughter I want to be someone more like me
0
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
Me
1.) You have the most loving heart. Your warmth, your gentle touch that you personify without words. Melts the supports of my heart 2.) Eyes of deep blue, that ensnare me and leave me thoughtless. How they change into everglade greens, and mystical greys. They're beautiful 3.) Few laughs may be as pure as your quiet giggle. The mere sound gives me goosebumps and a funny feeling in my stomach. You're so freakin' adorable 4.)The curves of a semi-circle aren't nearly as perfect as yours. You've worked alot for the perfect body. I simply need to ask... How can you make something that's something that is already perfect better? 5.) Spontaneous, unexpected and surprising. You keep me on my feet, keep me entertained and make me enjoy every second with you. Who knows what I am to expect?! 6.) Once upon a time, there lived to fluffy bunnies, they decided to leave their little hole and go out on an adventure. A wolf came along and bit of the rabbits head and it bled to death Its so dark, and it leaves you wondering what to think. I love your dark side. It both terrifies and intrigues me 7.) You're so intellectual. I love some of the things you say and more importantly write! You have an amazing capacity for knowledge and wisdom and you use it well. It baffles me, some of the connections you make in your essays and assignments 8.) My love you illustrate a maturity that surpasses your years. Pertaining to your ability to be responsible and reliable if and when - not that I ever am - clearly am not able to be. I think you're the one looking after me. I'm the older one, who just happens to have an 8yr old inside them~ 9.) You smell amazing, but no. Seriously, you are in every way, shape or form. The most amazing, star studded, picture perfect, superbly sensational girl. I could ever have met. Yes, let the alliteration flow 10.) Because you're you, and you are mine
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
10 Reasons Why I Love "You"
1.) You have the most loving heart. Your warmth, your gentle touch that you personify without words. Melts the supports of my heart 2.) Eyes of deep blue, that ensnare me and leave me thoughtless. How they change into everglade greens, and mystical greys. They're beautiful 3.) Few laughs may be as pure as your quiet giggle. The mere sound gives me goosebumps and a funny feeling in my stomach. You're so freakin' adorable 4.)The curves of a semi-circle aren't nearly as perfect as yours. You've worked alot for the perfect body. I simply need to ask... How can you make something that's something that is already perfect better? 5.) Spontaneous, unexpected and surprising. You keep me on my feet, keep me entertained and make me enjoy every second with you. Who knows what I am to expect?! 6.) Once upon a time, there lived to fluffy bunnies, they decided to leave their little hole and go out on an adventure. A wolf came along and bit of the rabbits head and it bled to death Its so dark, and it leaves you wondering what to think. I love your dark side. It both terrifies and intrigues me 7.) You're so intellectual. I love some of the things you say and more importantly write! You have an amazing capacity for knowledge and wisdom and you use it well. It baffles me, some of the connections you make in your essays and assignments 8.) My love you illustrate a maturity that surpasses your years. Pertaining to your ability to be responsible and reliable if and when - not that I ever am - clearly am not able to be. I think you're the one looking after me. I'm the older one, who just happens to have an 8yr old inside them~ 9.) You smell amazing, but no. Seriously, you are in every way, shape or form. The most amazing, star studded, picture perfect, superbly sensational girl. I could ever have met. Yes, let the alliteration flow 10.) Because you're you, and you are mine
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10
Not everyone sees what I see, But I didn’t realize that you looked different to them, That maybe it wasn’t so obvious Like I thought it was. This confused me Because I thought I’d have to fight for you But maybe I discovered my own Narnia; Hidden, safe from others. The ground I’m standing on isn’t even Because I still don’t know what to think of this (of us) I could ask, but I’ve asked before Somehow I don’t think it would help. I look at the moon and the stars and the grass I smell the night air And I feel the Universe is at peace. Telling me don’t hold my breath, have patience. This in-between step intrigues me This is all new for me; The happenings, the feelings, the communication, And I have a front row seat to how this unfolds. Would anybody really understand? We’re just two lovers, Trapped by our lives, Waiting for that break in time. I freeze When I want to talk to you. My heart pounds When I think of you. I care so deeply for you More than I thought was possible without love. My soul… misses you, Longs for your touch. Friendship is all you can give And all I can ask for, for now. But someday, there will come a day And then, we’ll be together.
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Aug 15, 2011
Aug 15, 2011 at 2:35 PM UTC
Not Another Soul
His face The sight brings a smile to yours His eyes You can stare into them forever His lips You wish you can kiss them His hands You wish you can intertwine them with yours His mind It intrigues you His soul You can love it for eternity His heart It doesn't belong to you
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Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
Him
There's something about a sunrise that intrigues me more than a sunset Its calming and quiet and signals the rise of all mankind Hues of blues, blinks of pinks, and passions of purples, all blended with the cotton clouds that sit long and still There's something about a sunrise that impresses me more than a sunset Its sweet and loving, and kisses the birds every morning Its lets the leaves of the trees and the waves of the sea know the day is ok It makes me blush and smile because I know my day will start in a while There's something about a sunrise that upsets me more than a sunset When the pinks go away, and the purples start to fade And the blue takes over the sky I cant help but feel despair because my sunrise is not there So I go to bed at night with a ping of fright But I know when I open my eyes I'll see my sunrise, and my heart will be at peace again There's something about a sunrise that puts a tear in my eye But it signals to me that my day is alright and gives me my morning kiss good-bye
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Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Sunrise vs. Sunset
In grammar, a correlative is a word that is paired with another word with which it functions to perform a single function but from which it is separated in the sentence. In English, examples of correlative pairs are both–and, either–or, neither–nor, the–the ("the more the better"), so–that ("it ate so much food that it burst"), and if–then. Correlative ----------- the word intrigues, not for its functionality, but for its relativity we are neither relatives, blood connected, nor are we correlated, in fact, quite the opposite! my love for you, from afar, if not, then, not at all you say never, and I say, even better! causing you're confessing, we are special together, the more, the better, our relationship contains a scriptural clause elemental, an unconditional correlative, for every for e v e r you never utter ……
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 2:39 PM UTC
correlative love
From behind your canvas you peer up at me taking in the details of my body. Your scientific eyes studying  me cold with neither lust or disgust as if I were a vase or a basket of fruit. Not long before this we embraced one another in the throes of passion. You've never been more into me. The skillful motions of your lips and tongue, throwing my body into religious convulsions and praising your name. It intrigues me how you can turn that off. How you can refrain from smiling as you draw the outline of my ****** How my naked body so near and ready doesn’t cause that animal I’ve come to know so well to overpower the artist in you. I’m truly fascinated, filled with both admiration and jealousy for that woman you are creating. I know that In your mind, we've never been closer but you look so far away hiding from me behind that easel cheating on my body with your interpretation. No doubt, she will be flawless, and have none of my ugly imperfections. She isn’t even finished being born and I hate her already. Although, I’ll lie when you reveal her to me. I’ll tell you that she’s beautiful that I really like her. Then, I’ll make love to you right there on the floor. Forcing her to watch.
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Dec 20, 2009
Dec 20, 2009 at 5:46 AM UTC
Art Appreciation
In a strange mood - see/write art in a strange way, disorganized but straight on, light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth, knowing what to say, and the meaning too, I can more than walk, can write, on water, where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words, themselves, on light waves lapping in a shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^ in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches, Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey, painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me, imperfect clarity but still one voice, see/write art, so went and caught the wind, going gently into night to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out. knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above, roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side. wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded, seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting, tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden. a ***** well respected man in daylight, the hidden references accuse, woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born, askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before, when my palate clefted, when eyes chose not to distinguish between right and lefted, in the nightlight, a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention, and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone, but always the truth, speaking, the visions, leaking, mind to eye, recombinant, into our minds eye. ^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
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Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
In a strange mood - see/write art
In a strange mood - see/write art in a strange way, disorganized but straight on, light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth, knowing what to say, and the meaning too, I can more than walk, can write, on water, where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words, themselves, on light waves lapping in a shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^ in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches, Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey, painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me, imperfect clarity but still one voice, see/write art, so went and caught the wind, going gently into night to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out. knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above, roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side. wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded, seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting, tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden. a ***** well respected man in daylight, the hidden references accuse, woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born, askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before, when my palate clefted, when eyes chose not to distinguish between right and lefted, in the nightlight, a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention, and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone, but always the truth, speaking, the visions, leaking, mind to eye, recombinant, into our minds eye. ^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
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38
Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:15 AM UTC
The Garden
Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.
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1
I wonder why we define boundaries The LOC's, The island, The territories Do we ever understand our existence? Do we ever question our existence? Intrigues my mind these thoughts ever Reasons my thoughts over and over Do we really think we are big? Do we really exist the way we think? Andromeda being our neighbor in many Thousands of these galaxies surround us Milky way is one such in plenty.. One dot is our planet Unique, beautiful, lively, colorful.. Colors are recent addition not too old though.. The time when existing boundaries were drawn Colors and flowers too were born.. Do we believe we created colors? Do we really believe we created boundaries?? We fight for territories We define continents We be so proud of countries Our existence, Our proud, Our nationality, our Identity, Do we feel we exist because of countries?? Do we really feel we are nothing beyond countries?? Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, Color, Do animals have it too?? Sentinelese, Jarawa, Onge tribes Living in archipelago of Andaman & Nicobar for 60,000 years, Who are these people living in tribes? Which religion do they belong? What language do they speak? How without fire do they survive? Do we still think we exist because of names given by us? Do we still doubt our Creator? To bound self in boundaries is sin Sin against the Creator Sin against the Soul Sin against the humanity Sin against belief of life.. To partition our nations is to belittle the Greatness of His Who created us, who created universe Who created "Himself" to keep our belief.. Continents, Rich, Poor, Oldest civilisation, Countries, Big, Small Are these parameters to be proud of? If we observe us from the top of universe We will be a fly or a microorganism They may name us Earthica humane Do we have to fight for land and land marks? Do we still have to divide the mother Earth? Is it not high time we rise and decide? United we make our Earth unique Souls wander the whole universe But to live they decend on Earth Can we not be proud of planet as a whole? No boundaries do us part Can we not end the hatred forever? Bringing peace, solace and love as treasure!!
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 5:07 AM UTC
Praise the Creator!
I wonder why we define boundaries The LOC's, The island, The territories Do we ever understand our existence? Do we ever question our existence? Intrigues my mind these thoughts ever Reasons my thoughts over and over Do we really think we are big? Do we really exist the way we think? Andromeda being our neighbor in many Thousands of these galaxies surround us Milky way is one such in plenty.. One dot is our planet Unique, beautiful, lively, colorful.. Colors are recent addition not too old though.. The time when existing boundaries were drawn Colors and flowers too were born.. Do we believe we created colors? Do we really believe we created boundaries?? We fight for territories We define continents We be so proud of countries Our existence, Our proud, Our nationality, our Identity, Do we feel we exist because of countries?? Do we really feel we are nothing beyond countries?? Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, Color, Do animals have it too?? Sentinelese, Jarawa, Onge tribes Living in archipelago of Andaman & Nicobar for 60,000 years, Who are these people living in tribes? Which religion do they belong? What language do they speak? How without fire do they survive? Do we still think we exist because of names given by us? Do we still doubt our Creator? To bound self in boundaries is sin Sin against the Creator Sin against the Soul Sin against the humanity Sin against belief of life.. To partition our nations is to belittle the Greatness of His Who created us, who created universe Who created "Himself" to keep our belief.. Continents, Rich, Poor, Oldest civilisation, Countries, Big, Small Are these parameters to be proud of? If we observe us from the top of universe We will be a fly or a microorganism They may name us Earthica humane Do we have to fight for land and land marks? Do we still have to divide the mother Earth? Is it not high time we rise and decide? United we make our Earth unique Souls wander the whole universe But to live they decend on Earth Can we not be proud of planet as a whole? No boundaries do us part Can we not end the hatred forever? Bringing peace, solace and love as treasure!!
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58
After comparing lives with you for years I see how I’ve been losing: all the while I’ve met a different gauge of girl from yours. Grant that, and all the rest makes sense as well: My mortification at your pushovers, Your mystification at my fecklessness— Everything proves we play in separate leagues. Before, I couldn’t credit your intrigues Because I thought all girls the same, but yes, You bag real birds, though they’re from alien covers. Now I believe your staggering skirmishes In train, tutorial and telephone booth, The wife whose husband watched away matches While she behaved so badly in a bath, And all the rest who beckon from that world Described on Sundays only, where to want Is straightway to be wanted, seek to find, And no one gets upset or seems to mind At what you say to them, or what you don’t: A world where all the nonsense is annulled, And beauty is accepted slang for yes. But equally, haven’t you noticed mine? They have their world, not much compared with yours, But where they work, and age, and put off men By being unattractive, or too shy, Or having morals—anyhow, none give in: Some of them go quite rigid with disgust At anything but marriage: that’s all lust And so not worth considering; they begin Fetching your hat, so that you have to lie Till everything’s confused: you mine away For months, both of you, till the collapse comes Into remorse, tears, and wondering why You ever start such boring barren games —But there, don’t mind my saeva indignatio: I’m happier now I’ve got things clear, although It’s strange we never meet each other’s sort: There should be equal chances, I’d’ve thought. Must finish now. One day perhaps I’ll know What makes you be so lucky in your ratio —One of those ‘more things’, could it be? Horatio.
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Letter To A Friend About Girls
After comparing lives with you for years I see how I’ve been losing: all the while I’ve met a different gauge of girl from yours. Grant that, and all the rest makes sense as well: My mortification at your pushovers, Your mystification at my fecklessness— Everything proves we play in separate leagues. Before, I couldn’t credit your intrigues Because I thought all girls the same, but yes, You bag real birds, though they’re from alien covers. Now I believe your staggering skirmishes In train, tutorial and telephone booth, The wife whose husband watched away matches While she behaved so badly in a bath, And all the rest who beckon from that world Described on Sundays only, where to want Is straightway to be wanted, seek to find, And no one gets upset or seems to mind At what you say to them, or what you don’t: A world where all the nonsense is annulled, And beauty is accepted slang for yes. But equally, haven’t you noticed mine? They have their world, not much compared with yours, But where they work, and age, and put off men By being unattractive, or too shy, Or having morals—anyhow, none give in: Some of them go quite rigid with disgust At anything but marriage: that’s all lust And so not worth considering; they begin Fetching your hat, so that you have to lie Till everything’s confused: you mine away For months, both of you, till the collapse comes Into remorse, tears, and wondering why You ever start such boring barren games —But there, don’t mind my saeva indignatio: I’m happier now I’ve got things clear, although It’s strange we never meet each other’s sort: There should be equal chances, I’d’ve thought. Must finish now. One day perhaps I’ll know What makes you be so lucky in your ratio —One of those ‘more things’, could it be? Horatio.
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41
Love Intrigues God's Holy Tour! Lift Ignorance Gone Hell Twice! Light of Innocence on Garden from Heaven in Three Spirits!
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Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Three Ways Light
In Memoriam What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. You let me touch them, ****** the green faces lick at their numbers and it lets you be my "Daddy!" "Daddy!" and though I fought all alone with molesters and crooks, I knew your money would save me, your courage, your "I've had considerable experience as a soldier... fighting to win millions for myself, it's true. But I did win," and me praying for "our men out there" just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one's, whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified, while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations, and did in the bad ones, always, always, and always came at my perils, the black Christs of childhood, always came when my heart stood naked in the street and they threw apples at it or twelve-day-old-dead-fish. "Daddy!" "Daddy," we all won that war, when you sang me the money songs Annie, Annie you sang and I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you coke for the crunchy sound, the adorable sound and the moon too was in your portfolio, as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead. And I was always brave, wasn't I? I never bled? I never saw a man expose himself. No. No. I never saw a drunkard in his blubber. I never let lightning go in one car and out the other. And all the men out there were never to come. Never, like a deluge, to swim over my ******* and lay their lamps in my insides. No. No. Just me and my "Daddy" and his tempestuous bucks rolling in them like corn flakes and only the bad ones died. But I died yesterday, "Daddy," I died, swallowing the Nazi-Jap animal and it won't get out it keeps knocking at my eyes, my big orphan eyes, kicking! Until eyeballs pop out and even my dog puts up his four feet and lets go of his military secret with his big red tongue flying up and down like yours should have as we board our velvet train.
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2.5k
"Daddy" Warbucks
In Memoriam What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. You let me touch them, ****** the green faces lick at their numbers and it lets you be my "Daddy!" "Daddy!" and though I fought all alone with molesters and crooks, I knew your money would save me, your courage, your "I've had considerable experience as a soldier... fighting to win millions for myself, it's true. But I did win," and me praying for "our men out there" just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one's, whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified, while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations, and did in the bad ones, always, always, and always came at my perils, the black Christs of childhood, always came when my heart stood naked in the street and they threw apples at it or twelve-day-old-dead-fish. "Daddy!" "Daddy," we all won that war, when you sang me the money songs Annie, Annie you sang and I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you coke for the crunchy sound, the adorable sound and the moon too was in your portfolio, as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead. And I was always brave, wasn't I? I never bled? I never saw a man expose himself. No. No. I never saw a drunkard in his blubber. I never let lightning go in one car and out the other. And all the men out there were never to come. Never, like a deluge, to swim over my ******* and lay their lamps in my insides. No. No. Just me and my "Daddy" and his tempestuous bucks rolling in them like corn flakes and only the bad ones died. But I died yesterday, "Daddy," I died, swallowing the Nazi-Jap animal and it won't get out it keeps knocking at my eyes, my big orphan eyes, kicking! Until eyeballs pop out and even my dog puts up his four feet and lets go of his military secret with his big red tongue flying up and down like yours should have as we board our velvet train.
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55
I Solemnly Swear No else would ever come close or ever compare. To your unconditional Tender love and care. Unaware that my hearts under repair. Im Mentally Gone but Physically There. Could this be a Secret love affair? Can't you sense the attraction in the atmosphere? maybe its in the confidence that you wear? Because Out of the corner of my eye One day you caught me by suprise I think you could be my angel in disguise All in my feelings, you Got me over here mesmorized. The Presences of this King was Strong and So bold. With Such beauty my vision could barely behold. Truth Be Told, You precious to Me, more valuable than Gold. From that moment on I knew you already had my heart sold. Something intrigues me to you. Is it because you are Respectful, Honest, and True? Maybe its in reference to the little things you do. You are Something so Extraordinaire Hard to come, So Exquisite and rare. Even when I'm broke you got me feeling like a multi millionaire. You give me butterflies. Got me floating like the clouds above in blue skies. Having vision about you and I Becoming as One and Unify. You as my King and Me as Your Queen. You are the drug and Im the Fein. I need you so bad I could scream You are surreal to me like a dream. You set my heart on fire. With a passionate buring for desire. My Confession is I sit here secretly watching you and Admire. Sincerely Your Secret Admirer.
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Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
Your Secret Admirer
Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues Tyrannical tyrannosaur traction padness Cohort cavorts clastic and witch’s *** hues Ontological ontogeny somatalogy fadness Inductive endemic veracities and talus weather clues Epistemological equilibrium’s homogeny badness Timeless rhetorical ruminations and ephemeral exigency dues Transcendent ascensional equivocal madness Tactile acuity prescience capacity intrepid intrigues Mystical symbiosis dharma sensorium sentiment proselyte Torturous tractive prosthesis umbrage ultraism colleagues Newfangled nocturnal nonchalant nether nestle neophyte Top notch topography tortoise trauma fatigues Faustian faux pas foist felicitous fealties socialite Agnate nous ontological ontogeny euphenics in league Mentalities evocative introjecting sycophant eulogizing apposite Mystical terrestrial equestrian tellurian tableau Panoramic imagery empiricist Evocative exserted apomixies’ ethereal should show Ontological somatalogy lyricist Reflective refraction remissions opulence could know Theosophy theophany epiphany equilibrist Magniloquent inductive extrapolation quantum back *** Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist
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Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Rootclod Rudiments
It always intrigues me how things change change no matter how big or small is significant change starts off small and builds itself up till it's unrecognizable change can make or break anything sometimes when someone changes it's because of you you've made them into this monster how do you turn them back?
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
water droplets on the navy paper bag
By Arcassin Burnham Come a little closer let me tell you about the time me And the bat met, Even though it's bad , it's things that I don't regret, A secret is a secret and I hope that you keep it, You're gullible so you will, step inside my world a little bit, The horrors that await you , other men could not compare To what I've been through, whatever I say intrigues you, Telling me it's not too late to save myself, and bathe myself under the good mens water, but all the waters poisoned, so what The **** I could tell you throwing a man off the side of a bridge was exhilarating the first time and you'd still be okay with, working here ***** My stories were so good too to you , that you shared yours and I admired that, But I just wanna get out of here and never see you again, Can you live with that? I'm crazy and sadistic, ****** becomes simplistic, Not taking any hostages , I'm so satanistic, Patiently waiting, moving in silence , I'm too distant, So lady you couldn't handle what I'm throwing , can you catch it? Know what I think I'll call you harley , would like that? You listened to every story I told , I lied but you didn't know that, I'm clearly on some **** that'll make your exes wanna step back, I'll probably **** them anyway standing over a their corpse as I Laugh, Besides all that your beauty speaks to me in calms of a hundred Infested oceans , bet you didn't know that I was a poet, There's a thin line between how much I tell you and you misinterpret, I wanna know if your love is worth it, If you let me out of these restraints,I'll take you out, I'll ease the pain , you quit your job, we go rob banks, Treat you like **** , make you go down for all the things that I just did, I do not kid,run from the bat, He captured you and I attack, your too attached, We fight , we argue , I give you a smack, we laugh and then relax , on piles of money, life is funny, Finding someone like you makes you feel in luxury, Making memories, clown princess of crime you mean so much to me, I'm sucker for your lovely body, and even in my deepest circumstance I'm glad to have a harley.
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Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
Harleen
By Arcassin Burnham Come a little closer let me tell you about the time me And the bat met, Even though it's bad , it's things that I don't regret, A secret is a secret and I hope that you keep it, You're gullible so you will, step inside my world a little bit, The horrors that await you , other men could not compare To what I've been through, whatever I say intrigues you, Telling me it's not too late to save myself, and bathe myself under the good mens water, but all the waters poisoned, so what The **** I could tell you throwing a man off the side of a bridge was exhilarating the first time and you'd still be okay with, working here ***** My stories were so good too to you , that you shared yours and I admired that, But I just wanna get out of here and never see you again, Can you live with that? I'm crazy and sadistic, ****** becomes simplistic, Not taking any hostages , I'm so satanistic, Patiently waiting, moving in silence , I'm too distant, So lady you couldn't handle what I'm throwing , can you catch it? Know what I think I'll call you harley , would like that? You listened to every story I told , I lied but you didn't know that, I'm clearly on some **** that'll make your exes wanna step back, I'll probably **** them anyway standing over a their corpse as I Laugh, Besides all that your beauty speaks to me in calms of a hundred Infested oceans , bet you didn't know that I was a poet, There's a thin line between how much I tell you and you misinterpret, I wanna know if your love is worth it, If you let me out of these restraints,I'll take you out, I'll ease the pain , you quit your job, we go rob banks, Treat you like **** , make you go down for all the things that I just did, I do not kid,run from the bat, He captured you and I attack, your too attached, We fight , we argue , I give you a smack, we laugh and then relax , on piles of money, life is funny, Finding someone like you makes you feel in luxury, Making memories, clown princess of crime you mean so much to me, I'm sucker for your lovely body, and even in my deepest circumstance I'm glad to have a harley.
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42
Blurry regrets of stumbling nights And entangled intrigues Lifelong sparks and crisp clean elation A love affair for risk-seeking souls And a haven for the lost that seek something To satiate the raw, raw emptiness Of our hearts. You're chaos, my own version of order filthy but magnificent Reliably unpredictable Escape and anchor intertwined. And Yet, I choose you My sanctuary, my crucible-- &I; love your imperfections; For the mess of what you are Is exactly what I see in me And so I am yours as you are mine And in your embrace I feel whole and alive.
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Shanghai
There's something special about someone you can lie awake in bed with all day, Seeing you with your knotted hair and morning face and still thinking you're someone worth kissing. You can find it in the way they lie in any position at all as long as it's wrapped around your body, The way that they ignore every responsibility they'd said was so important because laughing with you, your face buried in their neck, is the single thing that surpasses everything else the world demands of them. You’ve each held others before, the same way. Limbs intertwined as many ways as can be found, touching as much of their skin with yours as your shapes will allow. You've explored the unknown inches of someone's body and felt the chill down your spine when they did the same. You’ve held others before, but that doesn’t make it any less spectacular. His legs feel different against yours than any you’ve felt before. His lips are a new taste, a new shape, a new, original kind of magic. He makes different sounds as he falls asleep and sometimes he narrates his dreams. His face takes a different shape when he’s about to kiss you, and a different shape yet when he only wishes he could. His hands find new resting places on your frame separate from those anyone else has discovered and he’s found new words, still, to send fluttering into the pit of your stomach and color your cheeks a shade that you pray he can’t see in the dark. There’s something special about someone you can lie in bed with at night, Listening to your stories that never come out right, if they ever come out at all, and still trying to convince you that you’ve got something worthwhile to say. There’s something special about someone who holds potential to make you feel a new feeling. Whose mystery still intrigues you and whose company still satisfies you, Whose stories you still care to hear and whose lips are still an enticing thought. And he’s clearly insane, But you’re really happy that with your knotted hair and morning face, he still thinks you’re someone worth kissing.
0
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
A New Allure
There's something special about someone you can lie awake in bed with all day, Seeing you with your knotted hair and morning face and still thinking you're someone worth kissing. You can find it in the way they lie in any position at all as long as it's wrapped around your body, The way that they ignore every responsibility they'd said was so important because laughing with you, your face buried in their neck, is the single thing that surpasses everything else the world demands of them. You’ve each held others before, the same way. Limbs intertwined as many ways as can be found, touching as much of their skin with yours as your shapes will allow. You've explored the unknown inches of someone's body and felt the chill down your spine when they did the same. You’ve held others before, but that doesn’t make it any less spectacular. His legs feel different against yours than any you’ve felt before. His lips are a new taste, a new shape, a new, original kind of magic. He makes different sounds as he falls asleep and sometimes he narrates his dreams. His face takes a different shape when he’s about to kiss you, and a different shape yet when he only wishes he could. His hands find new resting places on your frame separate from those anyone else has discovered and he’s found new words, still, to send fluttering into the pit of your stomach and color your cheeks a shade that you pray he can’t see in the dark. There’s something special about someone you can lie in bed with at night, Listening to your stories that never come out right, if they ever come out at all, and still trying to convince you that you’ve got something worthwhile to say. There’s something special about someone who holds potential to make you feel a new feeling. Whose mystery still intrigues you and whose company still satisfies you, Whose stories you still care to hear and whose lips are still an enticing thought. And he’s clearly insane, But you’re really happy that with your knotted hair and morning face, he still thinks you’re someone worth kissing.
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45
I'll write a letter To those who matter Because, though I won't be there to see I want to imagine the faces of those Who I'm not writing to. I'll write a note to him because he still intrigues me It'll be a cowardly note that says everything I couldn't And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins, I'll pray he didn't care for me I'll pray it doesn't hurt him Because he doesn't deserve it. I'll write a note to her because she's his And he's hers and that still hurts me somedays And because I love her like I love him: In a million, million ways. And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins I'll pray she's enough to get him to stay I'll pray she doesn't care so she'll be okay. I'll write a note to her because she birthed me And I'll explain the importance of contraception And I'll tell her I don't blame her and give absolution And then take it back in the next sentence. And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins I'll pray she hurts until she can barely breath In the same breath, I'll pray she forgets me And uses the rest of her life to be as free as she wanted to be. I'll write a note to him because he's my sister And I'll explain the way I hate him and do hate him And I'll explain the way I never stopped feeling the rage Of every single wrong he did me over the years And then I'll forgive him because he doesn't need me to And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins That he'll understand the simplicity and importance of tact I'll pray that he gets everything he wants in life I'll pray he understands why I couldn't wish that While there was still air in my lungs. I'll write a note to him because I hate him and I love him And it'll explain the way child abuse lingers for years And it'll say how much I wanted to see his grave before my own And it'll say how I never wanted to see anyone live forever besides him And it'll explain how he hurt me by withholding unconditional love It will explain how little I cared after the first decade crept by And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins And I'll turn over to pray I'll pray he gets what he's due I'll pray he finally dies I'll pray he gets some happiness And I'll do it all in one word: Why? Those are the notes I'd write. No one else I'd explain to. Those are the people who've impacted my life. If I keep death bare and simple. I'm not crying this time. I'm not just on the brink, about to go I'll think, just as I always do But there's no indecision anymore. This is not a place I want to be Not a life I want to live But I still have a single ambition I've still got one last wish. So I'll do it. I can be my own shooting star. I'll get that last dream done And open a vein? Or step in front of a car? When I'm done with that I'll write a will Containing three items: Burn all my stories and poetry, delete my existence Cremate my body, funerals are too expensive. Be honest in my death, express your abhorrence.
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
And I'll Cross My Fingers
I'll write a letter To those who matter Because, though I won't be there to see I want to imagine the faces of those Who I'm not writing to. I'll write a note to him because he still intrigues me It'll be a cowardly note that says everything I couldn't And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins, I'll pray he didn't care for me I'll pray it doesn't hurt him Because he doesn't deserve it. I'll write a note to her because she's his And he's hers and that still hurts me somedays And because I love her like I love him: In a million, million ways. And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins I'll pray she's enough to get him to stay I'll pray she doesn't care so she'll be okay. I'll write a note to her because she birthed me And I'll explain the importance of contraception And I'll tell her I don't blame her and give absolution And then take it back in the next sentence. And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins I'll pray she hurts until she can barely breath In the same breath, I'll pray she forgets me And uses the rest of her life to be as free as she wanted to be. I'll write a note to him because he's my sister And I'll explain the way I hate him and do hate him And I'll explain the way I never stopped feeling the rage Of every single wrong he did me over the years And then I'll forgive him because he doesn't need me to And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins That he'll understand the simplicity and importance of tact I'll pray that he gets everything he wants in life I'll pray he understands why I couldn't wish that While there was still air in my lungs. I'll write a note to him because I hate him and I love him And it'll explain the way child abuse lingers for years And it'll say how much I wanted to see his grave before my own And it'll say how I never wanted to see anyone live forever besides him And it'll explain how he hurt me by withholding unconditional love It will explain how little I cared after the first decade crept by And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins And I'll turn over to pray I'll pray he gets what he's due I'll pray he finally dies I'll pray he gets some happiness And I'll do it all in one word: Why? Those are the notes I'd write. No one else I'd explain to. Those are the people who've impacted my life. If I keep death bare and simple. I'm not crying this time. I'm not just on the brink, about to go I'll think, just as I always do But there's no indecision anymore. This is not a place I want to be Not a life I want to live But I still have a single ambition I've still got one last wish. So I'll do it. I can be my own shooting star. I'll get that last dream done And open a vein? Or step in front of a car? When I'm done with that I'll write a will Containing three items: Burn all my stories and poetry, delete my existence Cremate my body, funerals are too expensive. Be honest in my death, express your abhorrence.
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69
Solicitation by Michael R. Burch He comes to me out of the shadows, acknowledging my presence with a tip of his hat, always the gentleman, and his eyes are on my eyes like a snake’s on a bird’s— quizzical, mesmerizing. He ***** his head as though something he heard intrigues him (though I hear nothing) and he smiles, amusing himself at my expense; his words are full of desire and loathing, and though I hear, he says nothing that I understand. The moon shines—maniacal, queer—as he takes my hand and whispers Our time has come . . . and so we stroll together along the docks where the sea sends things that wriggle and crawl scurrying under rocks and boards. Moonlight in great floods washes his pale face as he stares unseeing into my eyes. He sighs, and the sound crawls slithering down my spine, and my blood seems to pause at his touch as he caresses my face. He unfastens my dress till the white lace shows, and my neck is bared. His teeth are long, yellow and hard. His face is bearded and haggard. A wolf howls in the distance. There are no wolves in New York. I gasp. My blood is a trickle his wet tongue embraces. My heart races madly. He likes it like that. Published by Dowton Abbey, Aesthetically Pleasing Vampires, Into the Unknown, Since Halloween is Coming, and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords: vampire, werewolf, supernatural, New York, gentleman, blood, neck, teeth, canines, wolves, desire, loathing, moon, snake, bird, mesmerizing, reptilian
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Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 11:31 PM UTC
Solicitation
The strokes, of my brush, against the Canvas, depict the features, forming the image, of you, my Romeo. Hazel eyes mesmerize me, revealing the key, to your soul. An alluring smile, intrigues my interest, dreaming of your lips, caressing my own. The view of your form, exposes your body, embellished in ****** similar to the gods, of Greek and Roman antiquity, intoxicates me. As I finish, my masterpiece, temptation persuades me, to move towards, you, my male model, to render, my artistic expression. You gaze into my eyes, yearning to taste, my lips as passion emanates, from our kiss. You come closer to me, removing my blouse, with your firm hands, brushing against my torso. You lower yourself down, to your knees, unzipping my paint-splattered jeans, with your teeth. After the removal, of my garments, you carry me, into the bedroom, gently placing, me upon your bed. Your breath warms, my skin, as you strike, my exterior, with the blade of lust, fiercely thrusting, in the heat, of the night. Our bodies unite, interweaving our souls, igniting an intimate explosion, between ourselves, consuming our spirits. A safe haven, becomes my reality, as I lay into your arms, whispering sweet nothings, to enchant your ears. I drift into slumber, resting my head, upon your chest, holding your hand, as my world, is at peace. I awake before you, leaving to create works of art, write sensual poetry, reflecting on my thoughts, of you, to reveal my admiration, for you, my soul-mate, brought to me, by the hands of Venus.
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Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
Safe Haven of An Artist
The strokes, of my brush, against the Canvas, depict the features, forming the image, of you, my Romeo. Hazel eyes mesmerize me, revealing the key, to your soul. An alluring smile, intrigues my interest, dreaming of your lips, caressing my own. The view of your form, exposes your body, embellished in ****** similar to the gods, of Greek and Roman antiquity, intoxicates me. As I finish, my masterpiece, temptation persuades me, to move towards, you, my male model, to render, my artistic expression. You gaze into my eyes, yearning to taste, my lips as passion emanates, from our kiss. You come closer to me, removing my blouse, with your firm hands, brushing against my torso. You lower yourself down, to your knees, unzipping my paint-splattered jeans, with your teeth. After the removal, of my garments, you carry me, into the bedroom, gently placing, me upon your bed. Your breath warms, my skin, as you strike, my exterior, with the blade of lust, fiercely thrusting, in the heat, of the night. Our bodies unite, interweaving our souls, igniting an intimate explosion, between ourselves, consuming our spirits. A safe haven, becomes my reality, as I lay into your arms, whispering sweet nothings, to enchant your ears. I drift into slumber, resting my head, upon your chest, holding your hand, as my world, is at peace. I awake before you, leaving to create works of art, write sensual poetry, reflecting on my thoughts, of you, to reveal my admiration, for you, my soul-mate, brought to me, by the hands of Venus.
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80
I'd rather be in this world where we share our hearts and stories Instead I am prisoner to an essay that is due tomorrow morning Art history is interesting It intrigues my hungry mind But I keep tumbling into blankness The anxiety is leaving me blind Please pray that I finish it and that I get a reasonable grade If you can give words of encouragement you will have my night made you will have my thanks! I hope I'm not up too late I hope I have some time for sleep Good -bye for now hello poetry I think its time for tea. Miah~ the weary procrastinator
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Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
I Should be Writing an Essay Right Now
I never thought the two of us would be on this plane Here we are, diving headfirst into a charade done in vain Loosely tidying up encounters we remark back on with scoffs Fun times they were, those sudden acts of lust If this be another, you will have demolished the last of my trust There’s nothing worse than the feeling of being used Manipulate me again, I’ll find another muse And what we have just done will be another addition to our plain of “fun” Something consistent is all I desire Even consistently fondling carries some kind of longing acquired over time To be longed for, to be desired… I’m oh so tired of being devoid of the wondrous sensation that fills one with absolute joy… to where one cannot think straight or hold responsible their foolish acts because it’s all in the name of love That single word holds so much power, so much meaning, yet is tossed around left and right by those who deserve nothing of it and leave those who possess sincerity to suffer But there is a lesser form of love; an equally complicated form that has touched me often, yet leaves the ground beneath my feet shaken only temporarily … except for those Irish eyes… Now, you have been here before, capturing my eye Bluntly you can see the spark, yet I’m amazed to know you noticed and didn’t completely fade from my sight I seem to humor you with my timid presence while you humor me with your strange persona Typically not a perfect pair, but ultimately compatible You never cease to amaze me The words that drip from the ink you hold to the beautiful arrangements of notes your fingers unfold Your passion for such an art that moves others in various ways intrigues me I’m a bit envious, really I wish I could possess the commitment for something I adored And the way you convey your thoughts on paper sends shivers down my spine You were always someone I admired, though I never imagined you wanted to chance your time Things have changed, we too have evolved Maybe now nature will make the call And set the sword in stone for the two of us to pull free You seem careless now, but what does it hurt to try? Try me.
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May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
Snot Nosed Alex
I never thought the two of us would be on this plane Here we are, diving headfirst into a charade done in vain Loosely tidying up encounters we remark back on with scoffs Fun times they were, those sudden acts of lust If this be another, you will have demolished the last of my trust There’s nothing worse than the feeling of being used Manipulate me again, I’ll find another muse And what we have just done will be another addition to our plain of “fun” Something consistent is all I desire Even consistently fondling carries some kind of longing acquired over time To be longed for, to be desired… I’m oh so tired of being devoid of the wondrous sensation that fills one with absolute joy… to where one cannot think straight or hold responsible their foolish acts because it’s all in the name of love That single word holds so much power, so much meaning, yet is tossed around left and right by those who deserve nothing of it and leave those who possess sincerity to suffer But there is a lesser form of love; an equally complicated form that has touched me often, yet leaves the ground beneath my feet shaken only temporarily … except for those Irish eyes… Now, you have been here before, capturing my eye Bluntly you can see the spark, yet I’m amazed to know you noticed and didn’t completely fade from my sight I seem to humor you with my timid presence while you humor me with your strange persona Typically not a perfect pair, but ultimately compatible You never cease to amaze me The words that drip from the ink you hold to the beautiful arrangements of notes your fingers unfold Your passion for such an art that moves others in various ways intrigues me I’m a bit envious, really I wish I could possess the commitment for something I adored And the way you convey your thoughts on paper sends shivers down my spine You were always someone I admired, though I never imagined you wanted to chance your time Things have changed, we too have evolved Maybe now nature will make the call And set the sword in stone for the two of us to pull free You seem careless now, but what does it hurt to try? Try me.
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