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Mr Quiet Aug 2018
Suffocating from the hatred you keep giving yourself,
I'm so worried sick about you, don't want you to feel unwell.
Just here trying to make you happy as much as I can,
Yet you always end up depressed,
But **** that,
I'll always love you even after the end.
I'll make sure that you're really fine,
And if not I'll give you a billion reasons why,
Why I'm ******* glad you exist and why I don't want you to die.

Ask me why I care so much about you?
Well you've given me a reason to smile,
You were there for me during my loneliest nights,
And you gave a whole new meaning in my life.
How am I not suppose to love you and hold you tight?
'Cause you were there for me, so I'll always be here for a laugh or a shoulder to cry.

Maybe I care too much,
I don't know,
I don't care.
I'd rather have thoughts of you more than anybody else,
I'm afraid of losing you,
I'm scared.
I fell to fill in your empty heart,
And I knew the risks and consequences I dared.
I care.
When You Used To Call Me Mine
Part 13/14
Robin Lemmen Jun 2018
I am easier to be had
In the silence of darkness
Where teardrops are equal to dust
If you can't see them fall
I am lovelier on Wednesdays
Wearing long dresses and heels
Ask me if you can touch
I will, without thinking, say yes
I am lonelier in crowds
Feeling overwhelmingly not there
Nothing more than the people
Whom have passed through me
Memories shapeshifting into a girl
I am nothing more
Than a ghost town
hsyclara Jul 3
it's 11:11pm
where sorrowful low spirits cry
sanguine prays to the other side of the sky
the galaxy listens
maybe a little too overwhelmingly
the cold atmosphere holds many's outbursts
collecting agony and desires
one too many wishes
for the young stars to bear.

but listen to our ambition,
observe our devotion,
sympathise our situation.
scrutinise the inclination of our appetite.

it's 11:11pm
it's a galactic duty for the baby stars,
not for too long.
because nobody likes waiting.
so create that miracle of ours and
f
a
l
l
Ellie Oct 2018
living by it
trying to adapt herself to the new mask
getting bored maybe
but careless surely
something is bothering
but nothing it is
overwhelmingly quiet
yet quietly screaming
Yanamari Sep 2017
Crack*
The mirror broke.
And such a thing, although inevitable,
Tainted my vision,
And stole my hope.
I lost my smile,
When, what I had was lost.
Irreparable,
Irreplaceable,
Overwhelmingly...
Untraceable.
­
Over time the pain faded
And was replaced anew,
Increasingly constant,
Blindening,
Suffocating.

Crack
Another's mirror broke
And the innocent pain, revived,
Gifted my mind,
With the cracked
Memory of my mirror.
Dan Filcek Apr 2015
the largest: massive.
The young surface smooth,
viewed as an analogy
was inspired by discovery,
fell into the habit of position
that ruled during the days and hours.
It is inclined to eccentricity.
A slow and smooth evolution
ejected bodies too close
this was an overestimation
which extends above and increases
differentiated into several layers
Evidence was uncovered by the probe
so they may be decoupled
the shell substantially rigid.
a process formed
the young overwhelmingly dominate and possesses
a formation disrupted by collisions.
Such a violent beginning would explain
haze that blocks light
features obscure.
impossible to acquire
remaining  composed
There are traces of others
resulting from the breakup
complex compared to the age
replenished by a reservoir
studies simulating detection
fill a mysterious gap
via the recombination of radicals
significantly colder than observed
One hypothesis asserts uplift
which governs motion,
revealing a diverse origin,
Examination has shown
The convoluted chasms.
crisscrossed by dark sinuous features
sunlight reflected off their surface,
but no one observed.
This year for Poetry Month, I decided to post a "found poem" every day. If writing a poem is like painting, a "found poem" is like sculpting. source - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Titan_(moon)
DIPTI DHAKUL Nov 5
You are the task
that would overwhelmingly
identify my voice range.

You are the response
that would screen
and leverage my multiple inputs.

I’m the header and footer
that would automatically work
across devices.

I’m are the hub
that would impact
all your on-the-go moves.

Considering this,
all I say is you are my E2E.

((E2E: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative))

© Feelings Coated
Mr Siri trying to make with Ms Alexa E2E2I: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative
Lunar Apr 2017
Seven years. It has been seven years since that day.

And now here they were in the alfresco of that overrated café, with the man sitting across the lady: he was sipping his black coffee and she, her jasmine tea. The scenario almost seemed impossible in the past, but for someone with her tenacious personality, something ‘impossible’ just meant ‘a little later’ than ‘never at all.’ This moment played by fate was comparable to the persistent rainstorm that forced them to stay together a little longer in the coffee shop than planned.

“I’ve been thinking,” he sighed into his coffee mug, “About leaving this place and heading to the States. Study more on film and acting from the professionals themselves. Get into showbiz of the global standard. Be a real director. What do you think?”

She straightened her posture and settled her cup down on the table, nodding in acquiescence at his idea of endeavors that appeared promising for his future.

“Well… Why not? I say go for it. I support you in that decision.”
He diverted his eyes to hers, trying to read the gaze behind those wide eyes. Though wide and nonchalant they may seem to be, only a few can notice and genuinely understand what swims in those dark depths. Their staring game ended as her voice surfaced once again through the sound of rainfall.

“I support you. If you’re ever wondering why, it’s because I had to make a decision just like that—seven years ago.”

This time it was his eyes that widened, and he placed his mug alongside hers.

“What kind of decision was it? You definitely weren’t aiming to be an actor like me, considering you’re a licensed interior designer, not to mention writer, right now,” he chuckled, leaning back onto his chair.

A soft smile of nostalgia emerged on her lips as she remembered what she wrote on the night of the sixteenth, a day before the significant seventeenth.

April 16, 2017; 11:15 P.M. — I’m satisfied of this unrequited love. I’m happy this is all one-sided. I’m glad everything is ending before it can even truly begin. It would be easier for me to leave him who doesn’t even have the slightest knowledge of my existence, who doesn’t even know my sentiments, who doesn’t even miss me, yet alone think of me. It’s all good; perfect, even. A broken heart is better than two. At least there will be some times when I might let him and his strong hands put my weak heart back together and restore it to me. I’d rather have that than us both losing and scattering the pieces of our mutually shattered hearts. He must never be broken; I need to protect him from being so—I will take myself away from him. I’ve never been any happier to be in a love that’s unknown and unreturned. He will be happy, and I will be too. In the end, his happiness will always be mine.

“I had to leave the places and people I love, to be where I am and who I am today,” she exhaled. “It was tough, but thinking of those moments and people I held onto and appreciated… all of that kept me going.”

“Was it a happy one? I mean, did you find the happiness or ending you were looking for?”

“If I were to be dead honest, yes. More than happy, actually. I’m not just relieved, or satisfied; I’m overwhelmingly grateful. I earned the careers and lifestyle I aimed for. I managed to travel all over the world and see the places and people I’ve wanted to see. My soul roams free, finding home in the many corners of this earth. I’ve finally come home, and this time I know I’m not alone.”

The man was a grown man in a smart-casual attire, but he sure maintained the curious eyes of the child that he furtively kept in himself. Being under his scrutinizing eyes, she reminisced of the same intensity he gave back when they were still twenty-one and on the verge of growing up.

“But what about ‘him’ whom you left behind? Did you come to know him this time, maybe love him too, again?”

She picked up her teacup, providing a little wall between them both, and swallowed the remaining aromatic drops along with the thoughts she wanted to tell him ever since then.

I came to know him—you—but I don’t love him ‘again’. The feelings, which I harbored for you for all these years, never left me even when I left you back then. I know I was told to reach for the moon that I may land among the stars even if I failed to reach it. But I realized I had to reach beyond the moon—the sun, the Milky Way, the entire universe—because I wanted and needed to be worthy of my existence. I wanted and needed to prove myself to myself, to you and to everyone else.

“I did. And I’m happy with how we are right now, even if it seems like we’re back to zero this time round.  Though I’m not sure how my feelings are for him now, if I seek him as a friend or as a potential love interest.”

He seemed doubtful of her response hence did he hesitantly express his last thoughts: “So you’re happy now because you left him previously. But what if he’s the one who leaves this time? Would you still be happy?”

The clouds were emptying now as the pouring rain concluded to a light shower; likewise the people they were surrounded with under the alfresco umbrellas. She knew that she was prepared to answer this question. For the past years, concerned individuals would ask her the very same thing, and for this was she thankful. She herself would recite the words to her reflection every day, much like a prayerful mantra.

He caught a faint twinkle in her eye, a proof of which her answer would be echoing with conviction and it made him realize that those particular words to be said would be one of those things that would remind him of her.

“It won’t matter if he learns how I feel then or now, and yet doesn’t feel the same way. If leaving me would direct him to his happiness, then so be it. Perhaps we aren’t meant to love each other in this lifetime, any other lifetime, or even in parallel worlds, but I still am and would be happy about it. What’s greater than this feeling of being able to love someone so much? Like I said: in the end, his happiness will always be mine.”
There's an angel called wjh I've let into my life, and I have to let him go now.
yogirlturkey May 2
i finally found someone
someone real
someone who cares
someone who respects
someone who loves deeply
someone who worries
someone who appreciates
someone who notices
i am overwhelmingly happy
at peace & proud
i love him truly
though he doesn’t know how much
he believes he does but he has no idea
i melt at his touch
& cry at his words
an exquisite taste from his lips
& his needed warmth
i find my peace deeply in his eyes
& his presence keeps me calm
everyday a smile on my face because i know he loves me
i can’t get enough but for now he’s more than enough
5-2-19 / 1:09 a.m
(update: he's now gone)
dadens Jan 23
there comes a point when you begin to overflow with love

you've watered your soul so much that you no longer need to receive love to find joy

now,
now you need to give love to feel the light

but what happens if you don't have anyone to love with your overwhelmingly full soul?

does the love inside you begin to go cold?
it can't go unnoticed for too long...

but how can that be? can someone truly harden because they have no way to satisfy their need of giving love?

i guess time will tell
© d.a.dens
Lucius Furius Aug 2018
How distant my Swabian* youth seems now.
I made a glider which really flew, you know.*
Not far, but yes, it carried me! I soared!
  
Some accused me of being a showboat,
of tooting my own horn. . . . I learned early
that the laurels don't go to the meek or the bashful.
  
Yes, I was a ****. Those aristocrats
on the General Staff* belittled the Fuhrer--
but where had they gotten us?
I liked his enthusiasm and optimism.
We were in a hole; he led us out,
got the economy going again,
restored the Sudetenland and Danzig.
(Danzig where Lucie and I had been married!)
  
I thought Poland would be the end
but when we attacked in the West
I didn't shrink away.
My troops and I were the very spearhead:
strike quickly; do the unexpected.
  
Who was I to deny
Germany's world-wide destiny?
  
The African war agreed with me.
The open space gave a latitude to my strategy
lacking in hilly, forested Europe.

The victory at Tobruk is often cited
as the height of genius, military.  
I, myself, prefer what preceded it:
the retreat into Tripolitania--
salvaging men and tanks, shortening supply lines,
lulling the British into complacency;
turning and stinging at Agedabia.

El Alamein: the Fuhrer and I part company.
"Victory or Death", he cabled me.
I disagreed: my men would not die senselessly.

We were desperate for gasoline.
Ship after ship was sunk trying to deliver it.
(Lax Italian security, no doubt.)
  
We were outnumbered five to one.
I favored withdrawing immediately,
consolidating troops in Europe.
The Fuhrer wouldn't hear of it.
  
I flew to East Prussia to confront him.
He'd grown pudgier, more strident--
wouldn't give an inch.
I sensed that not just Africa
but the war as a whole would be lost.
The weight of the forces against us was crushing.
The only question'd been their willingness to fight.
That had been answered at Stalingrad.
  
I fought on in Italy and in France,
hoping to convince the enemy
that the price of taking Europe--
especially Germany--
would be too high.

I really thought we had a chance
to stop them on the beaches.
But now that we've failed, our destruction's inevitable.
  
I've tried to make the Fuhrer see reason:
surrender to the British and Americans;
don't let our country be overrun by Russia.
  
He condoned ******--
ordered me to **** the French Jewish soldiers
who'd surrendered at Bir Hacheim,* for instance,
(I didn't) -- and much more. . . . And yet,
and yet, I couldn't quite bring myself to wish him dead--
and certainly never took part in that plot--
though, yes, I knew of it . . . after a fashion. . . .
Defending myself to that group would be hopeless. . . .
Lucie and Manfred must be spared
the humiliation of hearing me declared a traitor.

I bestrode the plains of Africa--
Rommel, the invincible--
always with the troops where the battle was most critical.
I was crafty and brave,
dared to act when others shied away.
I was the apple of the Fuhrer's eye;
idol of the German people;
scourge of the British military.
All the world applauded me. I lost--
but only when outnumbered overwhelmingly.
  
Now I sit in the back of this Opel*--
an outcast, a criminal--
waiting to take a cyanide pill.

We failed to assess properly
the will of other nations to honor treaties
and preserve their freedom.
And, more basically:
Were we right to force our rule on other people?

Icarus-like, we flew too high.

We were bold and strong
but it seems, in the end,
in the end, not supermen.
Swabia: A region of southwestern Germany (around Stuttgart) which had been a dukedom in the 10th to 13th centuries.

glider: In 1906 Rommel, age 14, and a friend built a full-size, box-type glider.

General Staff: High-level officers with formal military education. Rommel, having come up through the ranks, lacked such training.

no doubt: Rommel was correct in thinking that the British knew the exact destinations and sailing times of Italian supply ships, but was wrong as to the source of their information: it was coming from German ("Enigma") radio transmissions which the British had learned to decode.

beaches: Rommel was in charge of the defense of the coast against British/American invasion.

Bir Hacheim: A fort at the southern end of the "Gazala Line" (in Libya) which Rommel outflanked in his attack upon Tobruk in 1942.

hopeless: The army's Court of Honor (Field Marshal Keitel, Generals Guderian and Kirchheim) had been presented with evidence of Rommel's involvement in the plot on ******'s life (false) and his attempts to arrange an armistice with the British (true). With ******'s approval they had given Rommel a choice of committing suicide (and having his treason hushed up) or of going before the court (and, no doubt, being hung in public).

Manfred: Rommel's son.

Opel: The car which the officers who presented Rommel with his choices had driven from Berlin.

Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem: humanist-art.org/audio/SoF_020_rommel.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
A tender poets locution,
Captivating my soul with sorrow remark.
Has saved myself from drowning isolation
And through our words, becomes a spark.

With sound be in stitches
Your eyes deep enrapture,
My soul is at home
With your infectious laughter.

Relief from my affliction,
Wonderful illusion finds me vulnerable.
I find peace in your reflection
This sensation; overwhelmingly desirable

But I’m not the muse behind your art
You’re poetic love rests not with me
By the end of this night we’ll continue apart
Just like we’re wistfully fated to be.
Born Sep 22
Perhaps maybe an interactive piece
Pages upon ages
Of what seemed to be a decision.

Decision, a thought that made it out
Of the cages created to keep
The illusion flowing

A decision was made
Overwhelmingly without considering
the consequences but rather
the satisfactions that came with it

on this highway of life
that decision never left you
slowly wrecking your soul
and in tears you held and hoped for more

was that decision a morphine or an addiction
is it a hopeless will that haunts
is it a rope on your neck
slowly taking your days away

so you sit and wonder
if the decisions you’ve made
are made for you
or your subconsciously following a pattern
a laid foundation
a culture that was created to control, without you knowing
My tolerance for pain is high
My tolerance for people is low
Life keeps going overwhelmingly too fast
When all I ever grew up with was slow
I hated myself for being different
Yet I couldn't force myself to change
To fit their mould and expectations
I didn't want to be just the same
I felt guilty for wanting different
No one told me it was okay
I find it difficult to allow myself
To ignore what people have to say
I'm afraid of judging eyes
Critical minds and shallow mouths
That judge how they see it
Or what other people have found
Slowly I am learning
That being myself is okay
I'm allowed to, I'll try to be
Unapologetically me, everyday
I dream of great mansions,
Becoming lost in a world in which I cannot understand,
Where secrets are hidden away, locked, and untouched in the treasured corners of my unconscious yet conscious mind.

I dream of large cities where I wish to escape to.
Intimidating buildings pierce the high sky, the wondrous city sounds never get old.
The soft lights and elegant music spiral about me, and
all the while I'm there sometimes I conclude it's all not a dream.

I dream of talking to strangers, having conversations like I know them but I don't.
They treat me to coffee or extravagant island resorts, and we have the most electrifying trips.
It's like they're real people, but they aren't.

I dream of tumbling freely from high buildings, diving carelessly in the bed of foamy waves of the ocean, and running from places I don't know, but I am never hurt.

I dream of strolling through wide valleys dotted with blades of overwhelmingly tall grass and a sky of white swirling clouds,
And every time I step forward in the vast maze of the valley, plants and flowers sprout from my feet and continue to grow in astonishing speeds,
And the wind caresses me gently as I slowly inhale the salty breeze it possesses.

I dream of being alone, but when I'm alone in my dreams, I'm filled with the comfort of being able to explore the thoughts of my mind.

The comfort of the large houses, the bustling cities whose towers pierce the sky, the strangers who I converse with, the heights I fall from and the waves I fall into, and the green hills, evaded me from reality.
ab Nov 2018
exhaling the faith i had
in myself is nightly

neither of us allow
conversation to linger
and it's sickening

we're blindly pulling at
bedsheets for answers
neither of us want to acknowledge

i don't know what's happening

each day is different,
i can't tell if my unease
is with the assumptions
or with myself

i think i know what you want
(at least partway)
but my mind wants to resist
losing interest in fingertips and
the mismatched cues

your body tells me you
need the closeness

mine is afraid
of taking this further

i don't want this to become
another bad joke, laughing
in hindsight but doubting
my intentions, i just don't
know myself well enough

and every time i mention
i am unsure, you explain
that you can't tell nights apart

texts at midnight
with questionable wording -
we have to be alone for this
to work out like you'd expect

but at this point all i feel
is a little bit sick and somewhat
concerned for your sake

because i can't be a rock for you

i am overwhelmingly sorry

there's something different
about this time for me

something goes through me
that i cannot interpret

you told me that you try
to live life to the fullest
because you might not have
the fullness that others get from living

i almost wish you hadn't told me

because my eyes start to fill
when i think about you and
i wish i knew what to say

i know what it's like to hurt
so fully and deeply, to doubt
your days and know your clock
to be shorter than some

and to have to pull it together regardless

i want to tell you so badly
that i'm scared too,
that there's so much more
than what i've told you

i think i'm afraid that
we're too much alike
~i don't know what to do about this
Gloriously swept away down a beautiful corridor,
both thought and experience.
The light seems purposeless, and the newest of all eyes begins receiving the inlaid context springing to life, and they all seem to like it this way.

No obstacles, only a clear path beset with many delineations.
It's the very real idea that any and all paths are yours to be taken without regret, absence of remorse.
The skin prickles itself to life. The body convulses, yet remains still.
It's the inward reflection, the silhouette just beyond the corneas that's dancing.
And even if you wish they could feel it, there remains a beautiful selfishness about keeping it to yourself.

No matter, you bring it forth with spring charged steps, composed breath.
It's the example you set, the smile cast forward as a fisherman's net, capturing all the unwilling fish.
No need for verbal explanation, they'll understand if they choose, but again this is simply for you.

Your touch carries a power far more kinetic than a lightening bolt, your look renders them catatonic. Filling with questions, but overwhelmingly more so joy.

"I want what they're having."
A simple sentence you now know as prophecy.

Urging them, "Dance with me, while motionless, speak with me wordlessly, carry me without the burden of strained muscle, exist with me amidst the beauty of this corridor, and its choices."
There is a definitive, deafening buzz, it's LIFE, you can hear it now in the purity of this silence.

This cannot be contrived, so you open all of what was once you, to forcefully experience it.
You no longer feel your heart beat, only the rhythm of others, who like you choose raw existence over questions; which would only serve to break this incredible transition.

It's not from where you came,
or where you're going.
It's stationary simplicity, and everything
seems to move with you, not around you,
almost through you.

Leaving reflective vibrations which resonate not to be felt,
not listened to, but understood, not explained, remaining a ripple generating outwardly without pause, without cause.
"Please don't explain me, don't expose me."
In this silence it's truthfully the loudest.
Poetress2 Apr 6
After the nightly news,
she faces the ***** wall;
She ***** her wrinkled thumb,
as she curls up in a ball.
~
She knows what's soon to come,
it happens every night;
When the nightly news is over,
this small child's full of fright.
~
And just like all the nights before,
they come into her room;
She has to reassure herself,
"This will all be over soon."
~
Her breathing becomes shallow,
"Perhaps they'll think I'm dead;"
"Your being such a good, little girl,"
is the only words they said.
~
Motionless she lays there,
as they touch her baby soft skin;
She feels overwhelmingly ill,
guilty and shamed from within.
~
When they are finished using her,
they leave without saying a word;
She shakes as she cradles her Teddy,
this precious three-year old girl.
It's amazing when you see it; the greatest plan of all time
Throughout all of history God's had mercy on mankind

He didn't have to do it, we all deserved to die
For in our hearts a dark rebellion always seemed to lie

From the time they first sinned  to the time He sent the flood
His plan had been and always was to wash us in the blood

He never left us hopeless though we never earned His grace
Yet due to love He sent His son and then He turned His face

Staring at this timeline shows endless moments when
He could have left us on our own, condemned by our own sin

I look at all the countless times He demonstrated love
And all I can do is sigh and cry when I see just what He's done

He took the weight of time and space and bore it on His shoulders
So you and I and all who sinned could enter Heavens boarders

Humanity in sin and shame was lost throughout the ages
Yet when He came He made us whole by paying our due wages

Consistently, overwhelmingly, and stunningly good
He has never left us on our own, and He never would

He made a way for us to join Him with His Father as His kin
His sacrifice was made so that humanity might win

His justice always standing firm, He had to pay the price
He did what no man could and bled so that we could have life

His greatness cannot be seen in all of its entirety
But I rejoice that I can stare at Him for all eternity

His goodness knows no earthly bounds, His mercies never end
His beauty astounds the minds and hearts of angels and of men

And when we gaze upon His face I can't deny its true
His unrelenting love it overwhelms me through and through
Emma Katka Dec 2018
can't help but feel a little bit like a failure
even though I know better
the struggle makes you humble
if it doesn't,
open your eyes wider
overwhelmingly inspired
with too little energy
I've lost the identity
of everything I am mourning
it's a melting *** of sickness
I want to feel less
I want to be more
I've been ****** for so long
that being sober feels like a high
my bad mood killer
my void filler
last night I took a drive around my home town
I drove past every house I've ever had memories in
sort of a crazy behavior
but I'm addicted to the nostalgia within each one
if only I could locate the time frame
in which I stopped being honest with myself
but knowing that won't change the past
starting over is terrifying
I just want something that lasts
longer than my attention span
I want attention and affection
from a real ******* man
who isn't afraid of me
but doesn't scare me either
I know my worth
I have to free her
I have to be her
I need a breather
pass a joint my way
Olivia Aug 2018
She is the sound of the rain
Soft tapping on the rooftops
An inexplicably calm feeling that you cannot stop

She floods your senses
Rushing gently while you can only float
Who are you, atop the ocean of her gaze?

She is the longing for sunlight
Overwhelmingly beautiful on the brow of a new day
An incredibly powerful feeling that breeds bliss

She alters your heartbeat
Shining intensely while you can only stare
What are you, worthy of being the object of her desire?

She is the most beautiful music
Sending your mind to faraway places
A fantastical feeling that moves your entire being

She quickens your breath
Crescendoing endlessly while you can only listen
Where are you, in the symphony of her being?

She somehow seems to be everything

Your favorite color
Your muse
Your captor
Your love

Everything

She is.
Diana Sep 3
I’ve dealt with insecurity
For quite a long time
Some have said
You have no reason to be insecure
But
If you can explain it’s irrationality
Explain why I couldn’t look at myself
In the mirror to wash my hands
If I were in a public bathroom
Explain why I truly believed that
If a person said “you’re beautiful” to me
I genuinely thought they pitied me
And could see how insecure I was
So they felt inclined to compliment me
Explain why I could never try on jackets
In a store
And look at myself while other shoppers
Passed by
Without blushing profusely
Explain why I would look away quickly
After making eye contact
Or when being first introduced to someone
You see
I’ve fought for my confidence
In ways no one will truly understand
I get overwhelmingly proud of myself
For maintaining eye contact
And going to shop for clothes
Such mundane tasks
That others don’t even think about
Would silently mock me
When I was in the dark
However
What’s touched me the most
Is that I’ve learned to love myself
The most
When I was watching
And listening for the fifth time
To a little girl
Nine years old to be exact
Who pulled me into the piano room
Of a church  after service
So she could show me
Her progress on a song she’s learning
You see
She too has insecurity issues
And struggles to see her beauty
But that’s all I see
When I look at her
And it hurts me to see that she can’t see
Her beauty
Outwards and within
Regardless of the compliments I give her
And reminders I verbalize
Week after week
So
I learned to love myself
The most
While I listened to her play
And realized what it’s like
To be on the other side
To love someone who doesn’t love themselves
To love someone who is insecure
To love someone
And understand that your  voice
Might not be enough for them
To start loving themselves
I look at her and wouldn’t change a thing
And that is the way I began to look
At myself
And that is the way I began to love myself
The most
MarieAnna Oct 20
M
Dear (you know who you are),

The moment I was aware you existed,
I was reeled in like a moth to a flame.
To the end of the worlds I could attempt to go searching for your ‘replacement’.
However feelings dead within me when close to you are reignited in an instant.

Close friends often tell me:
“There are 7 billion people.”
“Plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Not to put all my eggs in one basket.”
“Time heals everything”
You somehow manage to disprove what most believe is correct.
This very fact has taken a millennium to proposer. Pieces of my heart remain scathed and damaged after…The vast amount of attempts to erase you from the picture.
Trying my hardest to brush over what you mean to me. Permanently stained on my heart, nothing can remove the mark.

No amount of paint can disguise feelings...
Only because of you my heart remains beating.
You stir a storm that can’t be calmed within me.

All the attempts made to get over you,
Have been overwhelmingly obliterated.
Oceans apart, a conversation with you feels closer to my heart.
Instead of a prospective interest by my arm.

Even on the hottest day, I will feel ice cold.
Until the precise moment you are next to me I will feel warmth again. All the wealth in the world would never be fulfilling to me..Nothing in this life could dissolve my longing. They say we spend our lives searching for our other halves, you wouldn’t be a half to me. Just everything.

A lifetime of waiting would be a fair trade.
Only, for five minutes with our hands intertwined.

Languidly, I always ponder if you will ever understand. How my thoughts, dreams and ideas. Are dominated by you in my mind.

Often enough, they say love is supposed to feel like a rush of incomprehensible feelings.
They are right. Often enough I questioned this point with every stride I took.

You make me understand what it feels like to be alive. Before you most of me remained desensitized.

love from,
A girl you once talked with
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