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"quitely" poems
being poetic sometimes just comes to you naturally. the words flow through you onto the paper in a beautiful rythmic way and they paint an emotional landscape of thoughts and feelings but then someone sees it finds all the flaws all the things that made you feel it was yours that made you feel unique ruined. you feel exposed, hurt, scared. you hide from yourself you won't let your muse out for fear of having your art distroyed altered and corrupted. so you change you pick up a brush you dip it in the paint and you let the flow begin again. your strokes are thrown at the canvas where you feel the anger, your strokes become detailed and gentle when you feel happiness or calm emotions. but then someone sees it they see only the flaws they tear it apart and you along with it. where the lines are jagged from your anger and disappointment they only see uneveness and imperfection. where the shading is uneven from the sadness and the pain they only see imperfection they can't see what precious beauty lay deep inside the painting and the use there words to hurt you to make you feel like you were wrong like your not doing good enough. so you swear never to touch a brush again you will never let yourself flow with emotions like that ever again you tell yourself. but then you change you learn to play the piano you learn to make your fingers glide across the keys in the same was a figure skater glides across the ice. and with each key stroke you heart beats a note that flows out through the piano like blood through your vains. it feels natual it feels good it makes you feel alive you let go. everything comes out everything you feel and think flows through your fingers the notes of your heart beat expressed through the notes of the piano. the feel of the ivory on your finger tips becomes unnoticable you beome one with the flow of the music your heart beats in time with the rhythm of you soul of your music. and then someone hears it they come in and they take a seat and for a while they listen then they stand up and without a word they leave the room and you continue to play you let your flow continue you pay no mind to the person who just left the room. they return they have brought people with them and they sit quitely and say nothing. you stop playing you stand nod to each aknowlegeing their presense and then leave because the music wasn't for them it wasn't for them to judge even though as you leave you hear the people talk about how amazing they felt you were you no longer care they approval or disapproval means nothing its no longer about your art being good or being acceptable its about being...
0
Jan 1, 2010
Jan 1, 2010 at 4:16 PM UTC
being....
being poetic sometimes just comes to you naturally. the words flow through you onto the paper in a beautiful rythmic way and they paint an emotional landscape of thoughts and feelings but then someone sees it finds all the flaws all the things that made you feel it was yours that made you feel unique ruined. you feel exposed, hurt, scared. you hide from yourself you won't let your muse out for fear of having your art distroyed altered and corrupted. so you change you pick up a brush you dip it in the paint and you let the flow begin again. your strokes are thrown at the canvas where you feel the anger, your strokes become detailed and gentle when you feel happiness or calm emotions. but then someone sees it they see only the flaws they tear it apart and you along with it. where the lines are jagged from your anger and disappointment they only see uneveness and imperfection. where the shading is uneven from the sadness and the pain they only see imperfection they can't see what precious beauty lay deep inside the painting and the use there words to hurt you to make you feel like you were wrong like your not doing good enough. so you swear never to touch a brush again you will never let yourself flow with emotions like that ever again you tell yourself. but then you change you learn to play the piano you learn to make your fingers glide across the keys in the same was a figure skater glides across the ice. and with each key stroke you heart beats a note that flows out through the piano like blood through your vains. it feels natual it feels good it makes you feel alive you let go. everything comes out everything you feel and think flows through your fingers the notes of your heart beat expressed through the notes of the piano. the feel of the ivory on your finger tips becomes unnoticable you beome one with the flow of the music your heart beats in time with the rhythm of you soul of your music. and then someone hears it they come in and they take a seat and for a while they listen then they stand up and without a word they leave the room and you continue to play you let your flow continue you pay no mind to the person who just left the room. they return they have brought people with them and they sit quitely and say nothing. you stop playing you stand nod to each aknowlegeing their presense and then leave because the music wasn't for them it wasn't for them to judge even though as you leave you hear the people talk about how amazing they felt you were you no longer care they approval or disapproval means nothing its no longer about your art being good or being acceptable its about being...
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1
The Price of Sanctity Hazy.. blind, I can't see a thing, Sweat; an ocean__and I drown. Trickling, feel rivers down my spine Scorched, an all too normal tryst. Elements, lost; wasted in the heat, An itch; how quitely it goes ignored. This headache. **** this headache Someone get me a salve. 2 hours ! Twice has the clock ran by, 5 more, er.. But, can I last any long ? Water ! No water ! No fluid Traverses in to / without _ Hell ? No, it is dead men walking. Heaven ? Has there ever any been? Natural, welcome to the new order. Living, shall never be any the same.
0
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
Inside a PPE
I'm planting seeds in December I planted One for love Two for peace Three for every moment I felt the breath of eternity slipping through your lips as I brushed mine across your flesh gracefully grazing with my fingers the curve in your back Healing the strain and tension that your work had let in I held my left hand above your skin and prayed the pain that had sunk in would flow into me I drew it out persistently I took it all in a heart beat and I watched as your mind drifted off quitely Hoping it would lead you into serenity With my right hand I projected all the beauty I had collected while watching the sun decend sleepily into the sea and I witnessed you exhale all the trials you faced recently My hands now taking you into a vast journey Your conscious mind lulled into sleep and I talked with you telepathically Tracing the points sensationally Touching upon subjects that needed to be Soulfully blessing the night with a gift of insight My love I felt everything Unthawing the earth with the spark of spiritual empathy I planted four seeds for always and five for our hopes The six I had left I repeated the first three and I watched them grow Two bonded effortlessly into One being Corresponding Equilibrium Perfectly Forget-me-nots began flourishing
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Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC
Six Successful Seeds in December
There lays a man in intensive care Without a care in the world He said: *He sits aside As the world grows old For he has accomplished everything he's wished And rests assured in a state of bliss Achieving this if oft missed by the masses Who peer through panes with clouded glasses So protect a future of achieved potential Only live and love with your time Someday you may be lucky to share This sublime perspective of mine* He smiled gently and quitely sighs As we both left the room with tears in our eyes
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:28 PM UTC
Aged Serenity
I am rich from all the things I have lost Vanishing into a mist of missed opportunities The knowledge lies inside, quiet like a lake When he leaves for battle my skin aches and breaks We take on our true form when they're gone Layers of flesh fall to the ground Underneath this tiny heart a dragon rises from the ground I open yellow eyes and wake Tough skin and deadly claws You smiled at me and disappeared For many years I will guard alone The tiny home we call our own Shed my skin and try on a new soul Thousands of years old and rusted to the bone My soul springs awake, gets ready for battle But nothing lasts forever, nothing is ever given Words are written, said and stolen They want it back Eventually They always want it back Greediness is the wound of Man The result is spilled blood And fallen tears Wars are fought over countries Murders are committed by passion Cold blooded, show no compassion Red is the colour of our everyday lives And in necessary cases we spread our wings wide Our homes we protect, our treasures we hide We bare our teeth and hiss a cry To scare them away we aim and fire Open our eyes and watch over our treasure In the midst of war we still smile and murmur Make promises of brighter days We will hand our skin in the living room And pretend we never left the room We will smile and welcome them home Under the rug the trap will squeak quitely A hidden mistress underneath our home Treasures lie quiet and concealed *Late at night I Open The Safe And Peek In it I can see all the treasures you didn't take away from me*
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
War Dragon
I am rich from all the things I have lost Vanishing into a mist of missed opportunities The knowledge lies inside, quiet like a lake When he leaves for battle my skin aches and breaks We take on our true form when they're gone Layers of flesh fall to the ground Underneath this tiny heart a dragon rises from the ground I open yellow eyes and wake Tough skin and deadly claws You smiled at me and disappeared For many years I will guard alone The tiny home we call our own Shed my skin and try on a new soul Thousands of years old and rusted to the bone My soul springs awake, gets ready for battle But nothing lasts forever, nothing is ever given Words are written, said and stolen They want it back Eventually They always want it back Greediness is the wound of Man The result is spilled blood And fallen tears Wars are fought over countries Murders are committed by passion Cold blooded, show no compassion Red is the colour of our everyday lives And in necessary cases we spread our wings wide Our homes we protect, our treasures we hide We bare our teeth and hiss a cry To scare them away we aim and fire Open our eyes and watch over our treasure In the midst of war we still smile and murmur Make promises of brighter days We will hand our skin in the living room And pretend we never left the room We will smile and welcome them home Under the rug the trap will squeak quitely A hidden mistress underneath our home Treasures lie quiet and concealed *Late at night I Open The Safe And Peek In it I can see all the treasures you didn't take away from me*
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48
How soon is too soon to dance under the moon stars for angels your eyes the reason to smile or are they the reason for all the positives ever? Quitely so I like you a lot more than you realize, and not so much you- your role in this physical 3D world or even your actions, words but mostly just the sum total of all you have been, are becoming the energy you unknowingly give me an essence I suppose of someone greater than man aand yes you are one a **** fine specimen to be exact but it's as if I am subliminally attracted to your very existence on a level that makes me believe in a God in beautiful souls, yours being the most divine and I can feel it the moment it enters a room near or far anywhere in the world I know that you Are, your physical self holding all that is You and every second is made more perfect, serene because you are gracing this world with your being that is so right I am willing, no grateful for the chance to be vulnerable to such a person, bow in your presence, feel all you are and to offer up all I have to make you happy, prove my worth and in the moments we are together I can assure you all the atoms in my body freeze, my heart becomes still for you have such a calming affect that all I can do is smile and hope to all that is in the universe that I may somehow give you as much happiness as you selflessly give me.
0
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
jolly good silly
Wake up, Confusion, it's bed time Mamma's singing Daddy's rhyme Dad he does as mamma says Mom she never makes the beds Like a fool, Confusion, stand proud Make your self heard, quitely, get loud Travel abroad by staying in bed Watch the moon rise till noon (instead) skip the sun that set too soon Sun the skip that too soon set The standards of this mignionette Sheets so warm and quilts so smooth Hot bed rocks, Con, let them sooth Fu, you know the way to life Born today died then in strife Let's make this one rhyme, whall we, Sion? pas du tout pas du tout pas du tout
0
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 6:24 PM UTC
Cnfsn
Dawn slipped through the dusty blinds of the chipping white condo in the middle of the city Soft, pale light like the sallowness of her late son's cheeks stuck in broken bars to the far wall of the living room The tiny yellow canary in its iron prison did not sing A newspaper with boldened headlines lay open on the kitchen table unread The neighbours ignored the fake white lily laying quitely on the cement, cracked with cold, the blue recycling bin that had never been taken from the curb the letter in the mailbox that had never been read The murmur of the news floating from the television that was always buzzing filled her head with the static of Nothingness And her head, it seemed was at the bottom of Everything. Slowly, the electric blue light was lifted with white fingers from the grey sky, through the blinds She sighed heavily. She hated watching television in the dark.
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Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
War Poem
the world is screaming at me, no, no, no! it's screaming at me to die, to leave because i should never have been here in the first place. so i call myself names in my head (over and over and over.) the world is screaming at me, why, why, why! it doesn't understand why i'm here it thinks i'm good for nothing it thinks i'm a waste of time (i am.) so i hit myself and i punch myself right in the face. (over and over and over.) the world is screaming at me, you, you, you! it thinks i am bad it thinks i am responsible for the terribleness, and i am. so i hate myself hate, hate, hate myself until i can hate no more until i fall asleep and dream of more terriblenes. the world is screaming at me, die, die, die! and it doesn't stop so i hide in my bed and shrink instead of growing and in that darkness, that dark comfortableness, i quitely go to sleep.
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Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 9:12 PM UTC
happy new year
Hair long and dark like a silken night, her eyes glazed over, lips pastel silent. Every so often sips a cold long island, no jazz musician but her feet tap in time and she's skin like China, won't crack even for a smile. While people try to please her she will only check the time and she's not a people pleaser for she'll bore within a while. Perfume carried by the breeze, she's freezing, smoking outside. Her cheeks are apple red but her eyes, quitely tired. She claims your jokes are dead and then she'll laugh like bitter cider- a bittersweet pink lady brought to life beneath the night's limelight the apple of the eye of every single man in sight He'll ask her if she knows this song and she replies 'no, not tonight.' He'll ask if she enjoys herself. Blankly, she says 'yes, quite.' The room a-brim with deep jazz sounds: she sings sweet melodies aloud, she sways as if no one's around, she sighs, it doesn't make a sound.
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
la femme
The maniac is moving down Main. An umbrella raised, but there's no rain. The sun in distain, is laughing at his face. He shades the pain, from the human race. The maniac enters the store. The shoppers stop, and drop to the floor. They hear him sigh, and begin to cry. What did he even go there for? The maniac's at my window. I hide inside, and pray he'll go. He rattles on the pane, now there's a steady rain. But I tell myself Hell No. The maniac is in my head. He entered while i dreamt in bed. He'd found the hidden key, he entered quitely. The maniac is in my head.
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Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
The Maniac
She was their World, Her presence made their hearts run wild, Her smile melted the iron bars, Holding power to manipulate time. But she slept, For eternal rest. Leaving behind all her memories, Eloping to a World, That cannot be approached, without pain. The red rose in her garden, Shed tears every dawn, Wanting the touch of a hand, That caressed its petals, With deep love. Every dusk it cried, 'Come back! Come back, dear.' The old tree that stood for aeons, Withered its leaves, As if eager, To reach a destination. That would make it, Meet her. Acknowledging that actions were Futile, It said, weeping, 'Come back! Come back dear.' The dresses in her almirah, Stood still, As if lifeless. They didn't move, Not even when winds, Blowed, Still shocked, That she left them, Not even a tear dropped down, But they quitely prayed, For her to come back. The house was dull, As if blood was, Withdrawn from its body. No voices, Only eeire silence of longing. The incessant darkness, Inside it, Only wanted her light. And it wished, For her to come back. Then were they, In the niche, Crying for what they lost. She was their blood, Their soul, Her smile made them smile, Her pain made them frown, Her worries made them worried, Her satisfaction made them satisfied. But she had left, Taking all their emotions, With her. Only leaving them with, Unending tears. In their hearts of hearts, They wished for her, To COME BACK.
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Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC
Come back
The broken girl, She used to be lively once, And love the world around her, She used to sing and bounce, As if she was a living princess there, But when she grew up, She faced the hardest truth of her life, Her perspective of people loving the way she was changed, She realized that she wasn't fit for the world, In the view of everyone she was a big fat dumb ugly headed girl No one cared how she was inside, All wanted the ****** beauty, She loved too much, forgived to much, And it always seemed that she hurt too much. Not even her father thought her to be good, He never saw how she starved and never even had one glass of water, He didn't see her dying of her insecurities of being fat. And he one day said its okay if I dont have you perfoem good, But I want you to be thin. It peirced her like a nail, Forever engraved in her heart, She would carry her scars to her grave, She quitely swallowed her tears, And thought that his father want a beautiful thin little girl as her daughter, Not her. She had never said anything about anyone's, Physical appearances, Never blamed anyone, Took all the blame on herself , But yet people commented about her face, Her smile, How it looked like a rat, People always criticized her, And she swallowed it everytime Thinking it to be her fault. Not mentioning about her scars, And how she waited for everyone, But no one turned up in that storm of hers, Her friends got ****** at her and left? Doesn't she has the right to live her own life? Is physical beauty everything? Why? She was broken from inside, Even tinier than those atoms of chemistry, Where bonds were stronger, She knew she wasn't fit for this world of dogs, And always questioned god why he had sent her where she can't bear the pain? Where people even with her beating heart and flesh, wasn't satisfied, They wanted her to be the way they want, To crumble her into ashes, Where only her essnce of lost attle would linger. Sh knew only she can bear that much of pain, No one can go through it , yet she blamed herself for noone loved her , No one could help her get up. Everyone ditched her, Evem with her walls up high, She cared too much, She didnt go close to anyone, Be it physically or emotionally But still she was crumbled And got entangled in the confusion Of how rude this world was And wanted to die.. To live since she believed she wasnt worth it. No one stayed with her not even her friends, her lover her parents. She was left alone . Each and everytime. She was hurt but smiled with that broken smile.
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
The girl whose strings got entangled.
The broken girl, She used to be lively once, And love the world around her, She used to sing and bounce, As if she was a living princess there, But when she grew up, She faced the hardest truth of her life, Her perspective of people loving the way she was changed, She realized that she wasn't fit for the world, In the view of everyone she was a big fat dumb ugly headed girl No one cared how she was inside, All wanted the ****** beauty, She loved too much, forgived to much, And it always seemed that she hurt too much. Not even her father thought her to be good, He never saw how she starved and never even had one glass of water, He didn't see her dying of her insecurities of being fat. And he one day said its okay if I dont have you perfoem good, But I want you to be thin. It peirced her like a nail, Forever engraved in her heart, She would carry her scars to her grave, She quitely swallowed her tears, And thought that his father want a beautiful thin little girl as her daughter, Not her. She had never said anything about anyone's, Physical appearances, Never blamed anyone, Took all the blame on herself , But yet people commented about her face, Her smile, How it looked like a rat, People always criticized her, And she swallowed it everytime Thinking it to be her fault. Not mentioning about her scars, And how she waited for everyone, But no one turned up in that storm of hers, Her friends got ****** at her and left? Doesn't she has the right to live her own life? Is physical beauty everything? Why? She was broken from inside, Even tinier than those atoms of chemistry, Where bonds were stronger, She knew she wasn't fit for this world of dogs, And always questioned god why he had sent her where she can't bear the pain? Where people even with her beating heart and flesh, wasn't satisfied, They wanted her to be the way they want, To crumble her into ashes, Where only her essnce of lost attle would linger. Sh knew only she can bear that much of pain, No one can go through it , yet she blamed herself for noone loved her , No one could help her get up. Everyone ditched her, Evem with her walls up high, She cared too much, She didnt go close to anyone, Be it physically or emotionally But still she was crumbled And got entangled in the confusion Of how rude this world was And wanted to die.. To live since she believed she wasnt worth it. No one stayed with her not even her friends, her lover her parents. She was left alone . Each and everytime. She was hurt but smiled with that broken smile.
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71
church sunday morning i met a guy like him i said that he was beautiful he told me to go to hell and i sat down on my seat a hundred hymns in my hand oh i thought he was a god but he was dying like a man and the priest blessed us all but i don’t need to be blessed if only he was there i wouldn’t be so obsessed and we sung for the lord our words turned into gold religion is a masterpiece it saves our souls and when the ritual was done i quitely went home to talk about faith and belief to him i worship the most and on the way home to him i couldn’t wait to arrive and i prayed to god for him to still be alive but when i saw him laying there bleeding on the floor i just knew that god was dead it didn’t matter anymore
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 3:20 PM UTC
masterpiece
And I bow down to him, In excitment and grace. Smiling, loveing, Praising His name. The One that I can thank for it all, The One that proves, He'll catch me if I fall. The closer I get, The bigger the smile. I have never felt like this. Forevers been a while. This is what I've always been looking for, He quitely waited for me to choose the right door. He'll be with me Forever. Give me eternal life. No one understands Hell is as cold as ice. Find Him now. He's patiently waiting. Do it now, There's no need for debating. He will show you the love you've forever searched for. Wrap his arms around you, You'll need nothing more! Foever doesn't mean Love of life. It wasnt invinted For husband and wife. I now know He is the something Ive always searched for The statement is true One that closes opens the next door!! :-) Have a Blessed Day!!!
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Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Just a thought... on love
Those squinty little eyes everytime she smiles Those sullen teary eyes everytime she unreasonably cries That walking on streets holding each other's hand tight Those silly silly things over we love to fight Those endless talks, that nonstop chattering But being with her; everything is worthwhile That staring her silently When she laughs insanely That enjoying watching her in bed When she snores so quitely Sheltering under the blanket Snuggling each other tightly Kissing each other against the cold That warmth we could see in each other's eyes precisely These little little moments are the reason This life seems so worthy and lively Wish all this could be true & not creations of my mind's illusory tunnel Cause in those cozy moonless nights, I really wanna hug her tight and cuddle Why this life ain't Just simpler than simple? Why our feelings has started Judging over looks & pimples! We live in the world where everything is blurred & puzzled Thus it feels so safe living in your own imaginary bubble Yeah, it’s a dream I wanna dream every night Cause it feels like livin' in a dark paradise Cause it feels so good livin' in a dark paradise
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Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
Fantasy is new reality
He found her at the end of a river of tears and at the beginning of a sea of grief where she sat quitely sifting through the sands for dead and broken dreams and she would mend the wounds and breath life back into each with a drop of blood and a gentle whisperd wish and they would float away to the empty sky and hang there like starfish painted by a childs dream
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Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 3:35 AM UTC
painted starfish
I find peace amoung the dead Lifeless Souls free From the mortal Free I find peace amoung the dead Quitely Alone At peace I find the answers Stairing at the unkown, I find the calm. The screams inside my world the tears and agony Come to a halt to lay at the feet of the dead.. Strange it is that my peace comes at the price of the dead.
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Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
Peaceful dead
I've never been good with Women or girls Never brave, never able to speak Mumble was the best I could do And I did that too quitely And too often No... never good Lucky enough though I guess With the wild ones The ones that didn't play chase Or damsel in distress The ones that wandered the night Hungry for life and pain The ones able to see me hiding And mumbling to myself Being shy in the corner The ones that weren't afraid to strike first They bought me drinks until I was drunk enough to forgot who I was Or that I was shy They lite the matches and the cigarettes and the fires and the madness Took me back to their homes smiling I was always too innocent and naive to know why Until I woke up naked beside them in the middle of the night And we would do it again And in the morning too Sometimes I got lucky for months Sometimes years And sometimes I got lucky And fell in love Thank the gods for the crazy ones The stark mad lunatics Crazy for the beautiful pain of being alive I never would have known love without them Would never find it again if they weren't still out there Dancing in their darkness with their demons and heartache No I've never been good with women or girls But I've been lucky more times than one man deserves in a lifetime... Still, it would be nice to fall madly in love one last time Just one last first kiss from lips burning with the madness of love Just one last time...
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
One Last Time
I'm not writing anymore As much as I'm Watching in helpless wonder As the words Fall out from my fingertips As my heart flys Off towards the songs Of her voice And I find myself Hypnotized by her picture Framing her perfect Endless Ocean Eyes And would the effect have beeen the same Had we meet After one too many Or spilled each others coffees In a crowded café If I held her hand on a late night walk Instead of this longing To know her touch Instead of dreaming of what could be If not for the ocean And time And distance Would I have been too shy To say word Had she danced or chanced Before me... I know I would have froze And quitely walked away Never to say a thing But maybe one day Write of the regret For the dream that I let Waltz right past And never took the chance... I cannot explain Or dare question fate Of the why All I can do is watch As the words fall out And helplessly stare At her eyes Perfect in their frame
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Helplessly
I realized I must have lost My spark Along the way. It's time to rekindle That spark That resides in my heart But how? With my dreams so far off from me Right beyond my reach? But I must be brave And get up on my feet And reach over the abyss Of my longing To take hold of And manifest my desires Adulthood squashes ambitions Under it's steel toed boot of expectation It pushed my worn and bruised body down into the dirt But my spirit didn't die My mind and heart and body were exhausted But I still clawed at the soil beneath me Making a tunnel to my freedom Through the inky darkness Barely breathing, every cell of me parched Clinging onto the very last thread of my life That beat steadily and quitely In my heart I've finally Emerged Caked in dirt This place is unfamiliar, Foreign But I like it, It's new There aren't many people here So not very much pressure There is a lot of vibrant green leaves Rustling in the crisp air The sun is bright and yellow The sky, Baby blue I think I could stay here for awhile Without much to do I'll curl up next to this rock And rekindle my dreams To once again Light the fire in my heart That once roared when I was a child I'll forget the world Of arbitrary expectations and rules And drift off into my dreams While my eyes delightfully scan The canopy of trees.
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
The Fire Within my Heart
I saw the clouds In the moonlit night, Dark and flimsy Moonlight shining through. They looked so sad, Engulfed in the dark sky. Taking form Of the whispering monsters: My slumbering nightmares, Quitely growling in my mind. They were mourning The death of daylight, As the moon roared bright; Soaring through the sky To meet my eyes. My vision raged through the sky, All the way home, seeking rest; Yet the clouds, forgotten, Stayed unmoving Still, high up in the sky; Like their dead kin In hushed smoking rooms, Stuck and stranded; Held prisoner To the silent endless black. In sad, starving human minds...
0
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
Dead Weight
the more I push, the more I pull I play smart but you made me a fool the more I swim, the deeper I drown I lost myself but it's you I found falling hurts but it's the best part you destroyed my walls with a single dart baby won't you just walk away before I beg and bribe you to stay? dear Lord, I do not want to love again but somehow with you, it quitely begins
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Somehow
My bed is empty but my heart is full I know it must be foolish but I can't stop dreaming of you The air is cold but my bones are warm They belive the illusion of you in my arms My mouth lets out a gentle sigh but my lips still smile even though they know the risk How much longer can I dream and fall Its not this feeling I question Its just my complete lack of sense I know even when I'm forced to wake That I'll have to accept my hearts fate Every broken piece... Every heavy sigh... Every tear... Every part of me will still go on and quitely dream and quietly fall And no matter the risk and no matter the fate and no matter how foolish I'll always be blindly, madly and impossibly in love And my bed may never know your scent And my bones may never know your warmth And I may only see you again in dreams No matter how emtpy this space may be My heart will always be full and be grateful to have been blessed to have had such a beautiful dream
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Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
My heart is full