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Big Virge Oct 2016
Why Does My Appearance ...  
Offend Most Folk ... !?!
  
I DON'T Sell Coc'... !!!
  
I'm NOT An Ignorant Bloke ... !!!
  
I DON'T LIKE ... " Crack "... !!!
But Sometimes ... Like A Smoke ...
  
There's Nothing Quite Like A Cuban Cigar ...
After Food ... or With A Drink At A Bar ...
  
NOT Beer But Brandy ...  
Suitably Warm ...
In A ... Brandy Glass ... !!!
  
THAT'S ... Who I Am ... !!!
  
I'm NOT An ****... !!!
  
Unlike Those ...

Who Judge From .................................................................­.... Far ...............
  
"He's AGGRESSIVE !
His incentive, is to Rob,
and start, MOLESTING !"
  
"Who on earth ?
Do you think you're addressing ?
Your judgements are distressing !
Your thought waves need progressing !
Stop your second guessing !
cos when I start *******,
your state of mental being,
you'll wish you had Gods' Blessing !"
  
Girls ... Or Men ...
Just ... Can't Defend ... !!!
  
Their NONSENSE ...
As I ... Count To TEN ... !!!!!
  
See .....
That's My Way of Teaching Them ...
  
I'm NOT ... THAT Man ...
On .... " News at Ten "... !!!!!
  
NO ... NOT Trev'....
But Those ... "Locked"...  
... Inside Prison ... !!!  
  
I'm RARE ...
Just Like ... " True Gentlemen "... !!!
  
Girls Have Said ...
Such ... SILLY THINGS ... !!?!!
  
"Upon introduction,
my heartbeat raced !
I thought you were gonna,
punch me in my face !"
  
"That's what you saw ?
when you, looked in my face !"
  
Such Attitudes ...
Are REALLY ... Lame ... !!!!
  
It's ... Funny To Some ...
But Let's Get This CLEAR ... !!!!!
  
These ... " Stereotypes "...
Are ... REALLY Dumb ... ?!?
  
I Deal With This Ignorance ...
Day to Day ...
  
" Some guy ... "

Tried To Bar Me ...
From His Place ...
  
WITHOUT Even Looking Me In My Face ... ?!?  
  
WHY ... ?

Because of ... " e-mails sent "... ?!?
  
But When He Traced ...
The Mails I'd Sent ...
  
His Thought Waves Got ...
...... DERAILED ...... !!!
  
And Then Some ...  
Common Sense Prevailed ... !!!
  
I've Met Him Now ...
His Stench Seems ... " FOUL "... !!!!!!!!!
  
A Money Man ...
just Like The DOW ...
Index ... Direct ... !!!  
  
Until My Words ...
Got In His Chest ... !!!
And Proved To Him ...
... My INTELLECT ...
  
Whilst Giving Him ...
A ... "small complex"...

About What Could ...
Just Happen ... NEXT ... !!!?!!!
  
Sometimes ... YES ...  
Just Like ... " The Wu "...
  
I Do Suggest ...
You PROTECT Your NECK ... !!!!!
  
It's Better NOT TO ...
... Get Me Vex ... !!!!!
  
Cos' Plans I Make ...
Are So COMPLEX ...
  
You May Just Need ...
A ... Bullet-Proof Vest ... !?!?!
  
For Me You See ...
Life's Posing TESTS ... !!!
  
From Living ... To ...
Just Getting *** ... !?!
  
These Problems ...
Leave My Mind ... " Perplexed "... ???
  
Well .....
Perplexed or NOT ...
  
I'm Still DIRECT ... !!!
  
From Things I Say ...
To ... Written Text ...
  
To EARN What's Due ...
  
Some **** RESPECT.

From Those Who Watch Their TV Set ...
Then Pre-Judge Me ... That's INCORRECT ... !!!!!
  
Well Here's The Deal ... !!!
  
Instead of Surfing ...  
...... " Internet "......
  
Try PULLING The Plug ...
Yes .... DISCONNECT .... !!!
  
Deal With Those ...  
In Front of You ...  
  
Some of Us ...
Are People TOO ... !!!!!
  
Whether On ... PC ...
Or On ... " TV "...
  
You're Receiving INTERFERENCE ... !!!!!!
Your Thought Waves NEED ...


Some .... " Clearance "....
  

And Maybe Then ... ?
You'll FINALLY See ...
DON'T Judge Folks By ...
  
... " Appearance "...
I'm STILL, not the only one suffering such ridiculous judgments clearly ! According to the story today, about the Doctor, who probably won't be flying with Delta airlines any time soon !
Logan Robertson Apr 2017
He stopped at her rose garden to explore
Beckoning rose petals awed of colorful lore
With pillow eyes so soft
He's invited into her loft
She raced fast as he kept banging at her door

LR-4/26/17
Limerick
Mark Edwards Jr Oct 2018
At wits' end,
he overextends,
as time was running low.
Yet his mind devised,
through blood-shot eyes,
a way to end his woes.

A chance, perhaps,
by happenstance,
to finally take control.
On a sliver of hope,
while dreams eloped,
an endeavor to mend his soul.

As the stars aligned,
the gods divined,
and the man would have his chance.
Through foreign lands,
devoid of plans,
on a razor's edge he danced.

Now settling in,
the outlook; grim,
... but was it all for naught?
As he looked in the mirror,
t'wasn't man, but his fear -
the demon he had sought.

Now face to face,
his heart; it raced,
but he knew what he must do.
He gazed inside,
and began to cry,
for the demon that he slew.

Though beaten and broken,
within him awoken,
a soul now free of strain.
With time to cleanse,
with himself - make amends,
no longer a life in vain.

And over time,
he's clear of mind,
seeing beauty in his days.
The ironic part,
is within his heart,
he still finds comfort in the Grey.

09/30 - 10/01
2018
Claire Hanratty Aug 2018
I was travelling along a busy road-
Eyes opened and closed.
I had music in my ears so loud that
I could hear the sound of
Ringing with every note.
Way out of the window,
I raced the ****** train to Scotland
Up a dual carriageway and felt rapid
Time dispel all notions of
Going nowhere in life.

Without warning my world was jolted and
Came to a stand still.
We were in motion but
I was trapped and uncomfortable as
I remembered that yesterday,
In your thoughtful, rash way,
You texted me from a tent in Leeds
Telling me that
It was over.

Grass looked so much greener on the other side
Of the glass, yet I was
Unable to let go of the past.
I thought to myself  
'This is not how I planned my life would turn out'
At least, not today.
It hit me that I can
Never plan to be happy because
On the days I plan to be happy I will
Think of this moment and
Be sad.

Earth seems out of tune as
I lose the race through thoughts of you and
Begin to
Hate my favourite songs;
I love you.

I should have known better.
I can't decide whether to
Live my life and jump onto the train ahead or to
Jump in front of it.
I'm sorry I wasn't enough and
I could never be
No matter how hard
I tried.

I'm in a traffic jam now.
I watch the sun become eclipsed by the clouds and
I wish you were
Here.
Romance isn't dead but I sure am
Andromeda Feb 2018
Yesterday, I chased the stars
And what a miracle it was

Waltzing through the twilight
To the glimmer of distant stardust
And the song that wailed
From a heart I thought was dead

You chased the stars too
Hand in hand, we raced through a crystal night
With the dying winter's sun setting behind us
For a moment there, we remembered what innocence tasted like

And so we raced away
Deeper into the night
Excited for the brilliant summer days that awaited us
ryn Feb 2015
He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?

Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.

The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"

Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."

"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.

As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."
To be continued...

Based on a story I heard.
Tim Emminger Mar 2014
I watched as a doe and her fawns tracked thru the woods
She leapt over a fence and waited to see if her fawns could
The fawns went up and down the fence line, trying to find an easier way there
The mother waited patiently as if she did not have a care

One by one her babies leaped over the fence
Waiting for the runt, had to be tense
Up and down that fence line he  frantically raced
Until he got the courage to jump over at the same place

The mother knew what her babies could do
A life lesson; they had to learn; that they could do it too
You can learn a lot from nature if you sit back and watch
Be patient with others; they're on their own time; their own clock
Tanay Sengupta Aug 2018
The wind whistled a lullaby,
Kissing her goodbye.
As it raced through her forehead,
Before she dropped dead.
The floor had become a crimson pool,
Filled with the last remnant of the fool.
She thought she could tame the beast,
But, instead she became his feast.
It was a silent night,
And while she had put up a brave fight.
But, in the end three bullets made their way,
And they ended her stay.
Now on the floor she lies dead,
Her blood has painted the floor red.
We watch in horror, as numb as ice.
While rain pours down our eyes.










Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
This one is a little dark, pretty simple but dark. I won't say more. Happy reading!
AS Nilsen Dec 2017
on the rainiest day

with his helm in my hand

the motor dropped in the bay

we raced to mainland

the pine needle raindrops

daggers to my eyes

I had to get home

but first pizza pies
Micheal Wolf Feb 2014
I sat chatting to Alison of what I can't recall.
Why she was here I had no idea at all.
Ian laughed and made a reference to Cruella De Ville, a pet name for my ex that makes him giggle still.

Then she entered, seemingly frantic, papers dropped floating like feathers. Her hair trailed as though chasing to catch her as she raced through the world.
But no man could catch her as there was no race she was not even there but visiting the same.

She spoke loudly, her words echoed of Edgar Allen Poe. Deep and mysterious, soft in reference to my very thoughts.
She seemed familiar, yet not, oh how could that be?
Real and not there, I thought I had met her.
But probably not yet?

She opened a book and said listen to me she spoke so softley I just agreed.
I can't remember a word that she said only Alisons laughter and Ians nodding head.
They sat next to us but faded away I was losing reality but needed to stay!

The librarian rebuked them and I turned away, then I realised it was Caroline who was sat at the desk.
She turned and smiled and started to say
Hi I'm....
Before she could speak I said "Caroline"
I know
She smiled and leaned towards me, then I woke
The dream blown to infinity.
The library gone.
Utter nonsense dream where I knew some people not others and made no sense. Vivid as day in every detail haunts me at night.
Logan Robertson Apr 2017
every year
grandpa tells
the same story
over and over
like he's saying
it for the first time
he loves walking
in his own puddles
it would be
at the dinner table
during
Christmas and Thanksgiving
there's a candle lit table
waiting for good cheer
not ours
we stood sentry
to grandpa's story
as our faces glowed in horror
grandpa had that effect
he would begin
by looking at grandma
at the other end of the table
a nervousness in hers
and with a gleam in his eye
and a broken record inside
he began
there once was bag of marbles
... ha, ha
he would actually say that
and inside
all the shiny marbles cling and clung together
... ha, ha
your grandma and I
... get this
we were a red and yellow marble
and the exception
as his voice raced faster
his eyes bigger
his face a sweet melody
and he's so kid like, and he's eighty
..." we banged"
..." we banged"
the words coming out juvenile
perhaps from a drunk,
but he doesn't drink
then
on cue
he prompts us to say
you what?
"we banged"
"we banged"
..."your grandma
was in my back pocket"
his face lighting up in a smile
his eyes and ears peeking, waiting
for applause
and we did ... we did
grandma
her face beet red
she would look around the table
her eyes looking at the turkey
back at him, back at the turkey
we could read her mind
every year the same story
that's grandpa
grandma, for her part
would always
bask in grandpa's puddles

LR-4/24/17
John Niederbuhl Jul 2017
Have you ever wanted to do something just once,
Only once and never again, and then have it be as if
You'd never done it at all?

It was summer, like now:
Hot, hazy, sweaty--even in the evening.
The brook ran low, between banks covered with alders,
Overhanging, tall, immense;
The mountains were purple, indefinite through the mist;
The pines looked almost black.
You could smell the summer--scents from the marsh--
Things in their prime--you could hear them,
Tweeting and chirping and buzzing and peeping and croaking,
And barking and hooting:
Dead mid-summer--hot, sticky, buggy.

After the sun set, but before it was dark,
When you can still see, but everything's a different color,
I stood on the old bridge
Where the brook runs under the back road
On its way from the marsh, down through the village,
To the big river and the lake beyond.

I was looking up towards the plateau, trying to lose myself,
When around the bend, banking against the alders,
In formation, like separate missiles shot from different cannons
At the same moment, at the same velocity,
In the same direction
With systems to navigate and turn, elevate and descend, dart,
Follow the stream bed,
And stay exactly the same distance from each other,
Like an entity with an awareness
The no one part could experience,
Came a flight of bats, moving too quickly to count.

They rocketed under the bridge,
Appeared on the other side, raced
Down a straight stretch, veered right
And disappeared with the brook into the meadows
Headed for the dark pines, the rapids and beyond.
You could hear the swish of their wings as they passed
And their high-pitched pings, like the highest notes on a harp.
In a blink they were gone, in their ecstasy flying on,
And I wanted to be them, all of them at once--
Just once.
I think there is a consciousness in a well-coordinated group that no one
member can experience--that's why I wanted to be all of them.
Megan Apr 2018
I tried to take a picture
Of everyday I was with you
I tried to take a picture
Of all the happiness you bring

I tried to take a picture
Of the flowers that you sent
The ones that were red
With that very strong scent

I tried to take a picture
Of the day that shined so bright
The way the sun radiated yellow
Giving us its light

I tried to take a picture
Of the nights by the lake
Where we sat in the blackened dark
Smoking getting baked

I tried to take a picture
Of the smile on my face
But I turned the camera around
To hide the clear but staining tears that raced

I tried to take a picture
Of the love around me,dear
But an uncompromising flash burnout
Causes me fear

I tried to take a picture
Of the happiness you bring
But what I captured
Was the truth and its sting
As a kid
I jumped on beds,
Ran across chairs,
And crawled under tables.

I explored jungles,
Danced with princes,
And fought in battles.

I hid in closets
And the occasional fridge.
Even under cars.

I jumped off monkey bars,
Twirled around light poles,
And chased after birds.

I raced the wind,
Climbed trees,
And gathered candy.

And now
I walk through fields,
Go around fences,
And gather berries.

I trek through puddles,
Turn around in chairs,
And chase down a cup of tea.

I hide behind books
And under covers.
Often behind a desk.

I explore archives,
Dance in clubs,
And fight for more time.

I jump on trains,
Walk down the street,
And crawl through stores.

And still today,
I feel like a kid.
Stephen Gospage Oct 2017
Up there, two lovers stood still, face to face,
While life raced by, at its frenetic pace.
Some days and nights went by; the people talked.
And in the cool of autumn time, some chalked,
Upon inviting spaces on the wall,
These drawings of the lovers and their fall.
The Sphinx Sphanther, an ailuralien
from Slazenger 7, Ulthar System,
surveyed the vapid dullpink lunascape
of Smars. As he scanned yonder scanyons &
clabby tableland of Smartian terrain,
his 8ft henchbot, Ernie, numberwanged
'23467 097
11.' The Sphinx Sphanther's binary-brained
blabacus of a hotchbot robutler
doubled as personal security,
equipped w/ chainsawwindmillstars for hands.
But scant call for slicing 'n'dicing crowd
control here: Smars was desolate as smug
snow, too xeric to dessicater to
desertcraturf - in that, arid aphex
of its counterpart thru the quantumgate,
unsparticulate Mars. Sphinx had been there
too, long after the novalia cleared
by the Elon Muscovites for dometown
of New Creationham instead became
obumbrated by proxy war, a mauve
Somme for drones. The Zeta-Reticulan
barhover he'd met centuries later,
at Sagittarius Bolognaise, had
divulged he'd been staking out the Terrans
for millennia, concluding that quite
clearly they weren't Kardashev calibre:
' The Terran jackal apes could never build
fair Isratin on Mars's blank red slate,
but desecratered Earth 2.0
w/ telefactored lex talionis.
Palasraeli peace-world a daffy god's
dream.' But no roseplated, plaintive past
of lost races & their last, lost chances
would weigh on Sphinx Sphanther over 0-
g 'n' ts - least of all, kamikozmic
Terrans, ghosts of toddlers before his time.
Besides, he purrferred the splanetary
systems in his home universe, S-side
of the supersymmetrical stargate.
Even planet Smearth, whose gnomes salivate
for colloidal silver & often ate
salvers. But multiversally treasure-
hunting catman was not on Smars for smurrks,
nor to holoholo like a stalko
thru the pink pother, a fishbowlhead space-
*** w/ the best seat i.e. the worst seat
in a stadial sandstorm of foxglove
fog. In whirbles pulsive, Ernie's clicking
clock breath axlegroused, '23824
71719', as the Sphinx
Sphanther fremescently urged the servo-
droid to 'move your chrome cuirasse!' Which encased
Ernie's one lung of mesh & blexcroid heart,
repurposed by a gizmomancer from
silicone garage off Milkomeda
magic roundabout. Or was it spaceport
at the Smilkomeda?  Whichever,  the
Sphanther had long ago evolved beyond
flying saucers of cream. Caterpillar-
tracked calculator w/ a sporknose &
whisking shuriken fingers, Ernie creaked
futuristically behind its feline
master, as they descended in oblique
Indian file down scarp of Mountbattern
grink, for now the Sphinx Sphanther had bird's-eyed
some bearings. Manshaped moggy & lotto-
machine-A.I.'d adjutant had for days
yomped the candydross regolith of Smars,
a desert every bit as brass monkies
& indistinguishable in aspect
(save to areographers) as ginger
tundra of its supersymmetrical
sister sphere, yet pink as amassed honkies
(tho' ofays blushing ashen w/ gammon
guilt). A holo-map Ernie projected
from its cyflaptic eyezor had led them
this far, but now the Sphinx Sphanther relied
on the sort of stillicide scholarship
a cat gleens from spacerats (w/ translation
bracelet bangling his back, a caudal wire),
because Ernie's pirate-ninja meter
was in emergency credit. The pair
hinterlunged on thru tayammum douches
of inextinguishable pink, spinning
powders, smaze of Smartian haboob, until
Sphinx Sphanther sphied, sphorry, spied his wrecked grail.
'Initiating sleep sequence passout-
code: rats apollo defile robot tide,'
catman commanded his lollygagging
tincan manservant to take hard-earnied
standby. Then, before Ernie's spangbolts could
cease squeaking, before its hi-tec bits quit
bleeping &  the combined constadrone of   
mechanical chakras was susurrust
(engulfed by speckled banshee breaker of
nominal boughs, wolf sough of Smars booting
alien sandcastles), the Sphinx Sphanther
in his eagerness nearly lapsed into
quadrupedal ignominy, as he
raced towards the ruins, object of his
enantionautic planethopping
over 8 & 1/2 lifetimes. Not much
remained of whatever edifice had
once graced Smars, a primordial witness
wrought in masonry as lurid as some
Lovecraftchild of Liberace, its pink
pillars & pink hunky punks bubblegum
rubble now, vividness conspicuous
against the grink sands.These Smartian ruins
were only slightly less ancient than God
& his blue hypernovae toybox, or
Tohu wa-Bohu's pantherine absence
before that. The Temple of the Dark Lord,
Yod-Coalescence, indisputably
a stripling of deep architecture next
to the Sphinx Sphanther's incomparable find.
By the same token, the fabled Terran
city of Dubai would be an ugly
baby of steel & glass next to this site
of cosmic heritage, this exploded
damask rose of a UFOpolis,
stone petals shed by flower of dust. Engraved
on block immemorial, poking out
of a sandbank & imbued w/ forlorn
fascination for upright ****, such as
xoanon of Eve might hold for Conan
the Slybrarian, was maxim in long
dead tongue, the long dead sense of which rendered
it accidental koan, dumb poem
by anon culture that might as well be
entitled 'Sirenen Istigkeit'. Food
for thought anorexic Time, bulimic
Space inedibly graffitied on Smars:
'Nulla Dies Sine Linear B'.
Under cured Klyntar yurt later that night,
whilst Ernie hummed w/ Atari sheep sprites,
the Sphinx Sphanther dreamt of mighty works thru
the wringer of longslid signifiers:  

The barhover hovered above
membranous whatevers of mise-en-dream,
before the scene settled like anarchic snow.
Smickey Smouse was on a mauve rove
one smauve Tuesday. As Smickey
scanned yonder young scones,
young dust granted him edgehug.
Ernie said : Numb blah, numb blah, numb blah!
They certainly weren't in Snorwich, Snorfolk, anymore.
They hinterlunged on thru candybrass
of dross monkies, pinning spowders,
until Smickey Smouse smied, smorry, sphied
the Temple of the Dark Lord,
Pantherine Absence.
Smickey Smouse said: Wait there,
I'm just going for a quick Slazenger-7.
Ernie said: Skoda codas.
Elon Musk divulged he'd been
staking out the Terrans
for millennia & concluded they were in
emergency credit.
So they descended a serdab
poking into a sandbank,
its venom curd of darkness
further diagonally desecraterd
by Ernie's sadotronic **** attachment w/ knobs on,
thagomiser **** or Oumuamua
of steel & glass.
Its mace ***** drilled down
until Smickey, Ernie & Elon
were 3 spelunking sphinxes,
spelunking deeper into the recesses
of the alien sandcastle,
by the light of Ernie's eyeflaptic cyzors.
But you can't holoholo in a fishbowlobowlo,
lavalampadomancy of a daffy god's dream.
They longslod into the long dead clock breath
of Ozymandias' unconscious.
Should a cave-in cave in,
a hi-drama-gen bomb bomb,
quidzinc Ernie said: Inadjuvant Elon
Rifles should have hired
ghosts of toddlers  
for our pirate-ninja security.
Above them,
the embitteringly bitty yonder
stretched lone & level,
a ventriloquantum of solace on a grink brick
remained undiscovered & unsquandered,
waiting for a greater translator .
Ernie said: edit to bore life dollop a star.
Ernie said: Numb blah, numb blah, numb blah!
melinoe immortal Jul 2018
Selene.

By the sea, I have been staring,
at your bright colours change.
Erythematous, murderous intentions of
a disease disseminating
on your surface.

The slow, penetrating anguish
tearing the guts,
a one-sided, disdained,
newborn sadness,
I am welcoming in my arms.

On the operating theatre of life
white and now dead moths,
stillborn butterflies
inside the flesh removed,
drowned themselves in a pool of blood.
They, an absurd joy
that never stood a chance
inside this cyanide prison.

Portals of loaned,
disillusioned happiness closed.
The liquid that raced turbulently
through my vessels, drained on a half-filled
with tears palette.

With menacing, impasto knife-like strokes
on the body
Morpheus painted the shadow-covered moon
with memories that refuse to be forgotten
from purulent, open wounds.
'Those worlds you will (never) see.
The people you will (never) meet' he said.

Soul chemicals eroding
the behemoth sky,
as the paint dries out.
Ashes of my Dreams (Not) Achieved,
astral remains;
everything I silently kept inside.
Stephen James Mar 2019
By the rhythm of her breathing I found myself sinking ever deeper in her embrace. Caressing her face, in tune with her grace, the closer I got the harder my heart raced. Praying this moment would last I cast a glance and held her image recording the essence of her visage. And with the precision of a musician bringing melody to fruition we composed an act of love sweeter than any orchestral intonation.
a poem
Nassif Younes Aug 2016
I can feel you behind me.
I can hear the spit swirl in your mouth as you smile.
I can feel the pop of air as it opens
And as a small crack opens up in your lip
I can hear a single flake of dry skin
Fall to the ground.

All that
And I still wasn't quick enough.
I can imagine the thrill you felt
When my trembling shook through the air
And against your body.
The heat coming off me as my blood raced towards the surface
Must have been paradise -
Would have been paradise -
If you were anything like me

But you were always the colder one.
So when your steady fingers
Met that first single strand of hair
On the back of my neck -
When it jumped up on end
And broke it's back
Stretching out to touch you -
You knew
I was all yours
And you
Didn't feel a thing.
Jen Jan 2019
I looked down
To the ocean
Turquoise & Midnight
Twisted, frozen
You’d never drown
We could swim
Sounded like wind in a tunnel
Raced on steady wings
Clouds, weightless flew by
The day ended
The earth
Broke in two
And my heart
Continued
To beat
For you,
Fainter now,
Don’t stop to
Break in two
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