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Batool Dec 2015
The naiveness of
morning sky
tempting the sun
to show his
mischievous side,
the winter sun kissed
the horizon
making sky blush
a deeper shade of Crimson !!
Clovina Oct 2013
I hated you...
Your smile,
Your laugh,
Your cheerfulness,
It all makes me sick.
And yet we've became friends....

Slowly...
You coax me,
Into caring for you,
We've became friends...
But soon,
That all changed...

I saw a good you...
One who was nice,
One who cared,
One who was always there,
But then you left...
Where were you when I needed you the most?

I cried,
And cried.
My tears unseen.
I cry,
My cries.
Never to be heard.

I protected you,
I cared for you,
But your naiveness
Always take away your reason....

You get hurt,
But I pick you back up....
Why would I pick you back up?
I thought I hated you...

I was deceived...
You get broken,
I pick up the broken pieces,
Again and again.

You take the pieces back,
And still...
broken...
And still like a fool
I pick them up,
Trying to fix them.

I cared too much...
I *hated
you and yet I was there....
And so I left...

Tired of picking you up
Tired of fixing your broken you
Just to be broken again and again by your naiveness
Tired of being jealous of you
Tired of hating you
Tired of caring for you
Tired of being a fool
And most of all...
Tired of being a bad friend....
This is why I left you....
And yet I don't know why I wrote this...
You'll never see it.....
Because you never knew...
I lost my trust because of you...
TDN Jan 2014
I recall the rustic leaves,
and the sound they made when crushed
under skateboard wheels,
as they settled around the half-pipe
and the worn rails of Peter Pan Park.

Youngsters,
with their colorful helmets and their
better-safe-than-sorry knee pads,
kicked and pushed their way across the pavement
and pumped their fists in the air
as their boards reached the other side.  
In this Neverland, the kids wanted adventure first -
the tea could wait at home for a little longer.

But, as dusk settles,
the pirates emerge upon the asphalt shores
in fleets of tinted windows and loud exhausts.
These pirates, still adolescent in their own age,
bicker and fight until a hook pierces skin,
blood spills upon the crisp leaves,
and a boy - with naiveness still glistening in his eyes -
becomes another boy who would not grow up
in the Never Never of Peter Pan Park.
SassyJ Feb 2016
Bonjour Mon Cher,
As the stars rise and the moon lights, I meld you deeply. The time we spent together is so fruitful, with explorations of nature and a friendly company.  You whisk my motivation , the very nature of warmth and strength.  There has been times when my willpower to be strong has been crushed and trampled; muddled in the muddiness of the overflowing pond.

As the duck glides on the rippled calm water, I picture your essence. As it strolls on the waters, deep in thoughts yet conscious and aware of its existence; there you are in the calmness, the stillness of the wavelet. As the duck sets to rise, it flutters. I sensed your edginess and the indecisiveness you have burdened all your life. Indeed, your life has been a challenge. Breath in,feel free and submerge in the depths of the ponds. Then rise again and explore the skies above, for brief moments escape in the dense freshness. Set your being  in the briefness of ecstasy, the succinctness of forever. For your essence is ambient and radiant.

My being is filled with warmth and a reminiscence of the great days. The times when the chariots with it’s magnificent horses would flow in the saccharine grounds. The time frame when the yellowish hue of the daffodils bloomed and shone their beauty to the world. The touch cascading the shivers from one neurone to the next in sequenced loops. The ever-condensed electric magnetism. My mind explodes with the synchronicity of the beauty sacrificed by yours. My soul has woken from it’s hibernation, its departing the doorway of the cave. The cave laid with layers of secrets, mystery and mystic existence.

The nip of the earlobe tip is a pleasure I pass. A chance to trace the resonance of my whispers. More so, a declaration of my naiveness. The statue poising on the plinth of the Romany windows in declaration that she does not understand many things. It’s in the whisper her beauty, my representation. The words that she wants to transpire but as such there is never enough time. Neither is there an eternity, but snippets of memories and moments.

Let me deep inside, to see every thought, to hear every dream to touch the breath of every sound. The existence of everyday living is absent and helpless. However, to love one is to embrace all. Someday, I wonder how we exist in such a dichotomy of life. I would like to hold you and touch you. To feel your oneness coursing in my blood and mind. I try and try to see above this existence. To touch and dream of the beauty, to collapse in the core of the humanness. My drug is ingested in the craziness of realness, an authenticity of the façade that we don day in and out.

Yet as the wind we fade in and out. When our insides are hollow and empty, drenching in lonely paths. But we stand un-fainted and feint. In the chaos of uncovering the curiosity and the depths awaiting to be exploded as the volcano boils. I want you to know that I am alive in your presence, I am real, I am me. This is one of the very rare connections I have had and I respect it. Hope not to whelm with my ambiguousness or eccentricity. I have no expectations and I am not wanting to be owned or own. Tis’ you giving the hungry eyes and Tis’ me who hope you can see beyond my interior.

In retrospection and introversion, welcome to the pleasures and treasures.

Be you,
SassyJ
Sade: Jezebel
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qTsxMS2PpA
Xienab Dec 2013
One way flights into the sky & let fate control the destination of my destiny.

Sail the supple curves of the oceans waves and may the rocking motion rock me into an everlasting fantasy.

Read about Baldwin's palpable endeavors, cover to cover and marvel at Sylvia Plath's anthologies that run shivers up and down my basketball-court of a spine.                                              

Let Shakespeare educate me on love, heartbreak, tragedy and the reality of all stoicism and cynicism bestowed upon my naiveness.    

Truth is, I don't know where I'm going, but whether it be the sky, the sea or within ink-stained papers, let them guide me to a place of genuine sincerity.
Faizul Jasmi Nov 2014
My heart is the book,
My conscience is the author,
My childhood is the prologue,
My growing phase is the pages with the most lessons,
My ideas are the metaphoric words,
My successes are the exciting paragraphs,
My challenges are the hair-rising lines,
My teenage life of naiveness is all the questions of the story,
And my adulthood answers it all, maybe some.
The last chapter defines what is right and wrong in my life,
The time before my passing is the page that holds you from continuing -to finish, to accept that it wont last.

And it ends,
And you flip the last blank page,

Thereafter, only God knows what happens to the story, to me.
fj
Twinkle Rawat Oct 2018
As free as a bird...in a cage
She trapped herself,
Into that flamboyant frame,
Trying to veil
Those dewy eyes.

She trapped herself,
Within that tailored smile
she was accustomed to
Her milieu was accustomed to,
Trying to conceal that usual heartache.

She trapped herself,
Inside that veil of sophistication,
Smothering that naiveness,
That unconsciously shoved her lips to expand into that charming curve,
Even at trivial affairs.

She trapped herself,
Defeated by that burden of expectations,
And unwillingly
Blocked that flame that always ignited her.

She trapped herself,
Deserted her reason for living...
Not just existing,
And existed, lost.

But,

Even that mere existence refused to welcome that defeat.

Her individuality dissuaded her from that suffocation,
And promptly removed that veil.

She was a fighter,
A militia fighting her demons
Gallantly.
Annihilating those fears,
Those self doubts
That hindered her conquests
To establish her purely sovereign empire.

She accepted gracefully
Her naiveness.
She embraced elegantly
Her gawkiness.

The lill flame ignited,
Metamorphosed into inferno.
She wore that invisible Crown,
All by herself.
She vehemently chased those dreams,
Those dreams, which once got her trembling,
Were now waiting,
To be seized by the Queen.

She emancipated that bird, from her lill cage,
And allowed her to measure the sky,
Unleasheing her rage.
Unleash that rage...
Measure the sky, emancipate yourself from your own cage.
Caitlin Nesbit Apr 2017
Naiveness does not plague me.*

You are nothing more
than one too many drinks,

nothing more
than sweat-stained sheets.
Lowercase Nov 2015
I’ll be fine, I guess.
So would you.
How soon
depends
on how we broke.
In half? Rough and jagged at the ends
With you clinging angrily to your end and I to mine?
Angry, stubborn tears stinging
in your eyes or mine
That’d be a while
But you’d be fine. I’d be fine.
Or maybe
the courting of Death
Seductive caresses across my wrists and lips or
something sudden and final
In screeching brakes and the smell of rubber tires
denial
and hollow ringing
as I think for the first time in my life
God, I wish I wasn’t wearing black.
It doesn’t matter.
A fight
An illness
A drifting? eventual (we had nothing left in common)
You’d be fine.
You’d remember me in fleeting moments
Flicking past a space documentary on Netflix
or pausing over a box of creamsicles in the frozen aisle
And I would see you
In the golden yellow hair of a passerby
But it would pass every time
One of us might laugh at the thought once we said
you and me
to the bitter end
That a teenager knew what forever and always was
and chalk it up to youthful naiveness
And we would be fine.
But I don’t want to be fine
I want to be laughing so hard my stomach almost lacerates
Because you know exactly what to say
And I want to be pressing
Kisses to your cheek and passing you hot cocoa
Because today we’re staying in and watching Disney
(singing along to every song of course)
I want to introduce you to everyone
Have you met…?
And tell strangers in the grocery store
About the most wonderful thing you did
And watch them smile kindly
over me gushing about you
across the stacks of tomatoes.
And I want to tell you over the phone about that stranger
So you can say
ew, tomatoes.
I don’t want to be fine, I want to be the kind of ecstatic
That only comes from us
From discussing everything from lipsticks to physics to musicals to dying
From knowing that when I am so tired I can feel it in my soul
You will hold me and let me cry
From believing it will always be us against everything
From living happily ever after
Because what is fine
Compared to this?
I made my best friend cry with this poem.
Savannah Marie Nov 2011
She
She

Introversion,
No self esteem,
Betrayal.
She
The beating drums of life have ceased
Tattered and destroyed by naiveness
The spirit inside dwindling
Slowly drained by the man who
Isn’t.
Silence rips her inner thoughts to shreds
He saw it all along
He knew her pain
Though she hides it with laughter
Smiling.
Her river of pain is dry as a summer drought
All of its sorrow disappeared with truth
Why can’t there be rain?
The deep desire for liberation can’t be restrained
Anymore.
Hatred escapes her inner being
Writhing in her every move
Everyone can see for certain
Negative energy emanating towards him
Only.
Screaming from her soul to her throat
But no one can hear her desolate plea
Panic, anxiety, nothing will ease her
She feels his oblivion and cowering
Only anger.
Annie Jun 2013
I.
when i see your face it is almost
like i am staring through a
tinted car window
and whenever i think of you all
I see is a decaying brick wall
i was never able to pass through
and I have come to that breaking point
where I will never get
anywhere with you.
Forgive me for
completely abandoning you
pulling away
moving on
but understand you made me do it.

II.
You ****** me and expected me
not to fall in love.
When I told you I was falling,
you did not even bother to
say goodbye.
I have hated many people in my lifetime
for petty stupid reasons
I don't think  really hated them at all.
I have tried to mend our shortcomings
but I can not bring myself to respect
someone like you.
You threw me away
and left me at a concert
while holding my best friends hand.
Forgive me for
hating you
but understand you made me do it.

III.
The idea of you was enticing
I really thought I loved you,
but etched letters in trees
and sad songs were not
enough to make me stay.
i am sorry
I wish things were different
and I wish I was not
such a hypocrite.
Forgive me for hurting you
but understand that
you had nothing to do with this.

IV.
15 was too young to lose my innocence
Or to have it stolen from me
Justifying your actions
with my commitment
and total naiveness.
It has been so long since I was seen you
you're touch has faded
and voice is muddled.
I wonder
if you are the same
Forgive me for leaving you
But understand you made me do it.
still a work in progress
Emma Matson Feb 2014
somewhere along the way i lost
my caution
i lost my panic
i lost my naiveness

i stopped wearing my seatbelt and saying please
i stopped deleting messages and looking twice before crossing the road
i stopped waiting for you to tell me youre sorry because i knew you wouldnt mean it and i knew i wouldnt believe it

i used to put my toes in the water then slowly wade in
but now everythings a cannonball and this pool of
hot frustrated tears and exasperated sweat is overflowing onto the cement and evaporating into the purple clouds faster than my heart when its jumping out of my throat when i slip out of my window under the blanket of stars
stepping over twigs and stealing
kisses in the pines

somewhere along the way i stopped believing in god and started to create my own purpose and found salvation under the suns rays
somewhere along the way i lost my walls and turned my hallow
bones into my home
Damaris Nov 2017
I'm an angel trapped in a bubble, who is remarkably naïve.

What will happen to this angel when the bubble bleeds?

Will I fall into the depths of this horrid world or will I stand tall above the trees?

Honestly,

I think I will fall into the depths of my own naiveness, blind to what I see.
Something I wrote at 4 am
Alicia Mar 2021
brilliant bruises like diamonds
shine on my skin
with a child's naiveness
I trust you again

with a temper that is quick
and eyes gone black
I'm lying facedown on the bed
as your beating my back

I'd cry out in pain
but your ears are deaf
so I suffer in silence
self-hate beaten into my flesh

the belt buzzing
I pretend I'm not there
as the welts are rising
I'm choking for air

then all is quiet
behind the locked door
you tell me you love me
and beat me some more
my father routinely beat me on Sundays after church using "spare the rod spoil the child as his excuse.
Mose Nov 2020
A belief is a sweet dream.
An unconscious stream.  

It tucks the corners of your bed.
A place to put all your dread.

Covers you in white linen.
Keeps your naiveness winnen.

Casts you away into a sleepful estate.
No longer shall you await.

A sweet escape from the truth.
A kiss of ignorance coming through.

Gives you faith in something.
Even if it’s a hopeful nothing.

— The End —