"rarity" poems
A halo of transfigured light.
spanned the hills and autumn gold
of scores of aspen groves
basking in the morning sun.
But what is this thing we call a rainbow?
For all our science talk of vapor,
refraction and angle of the sun
we surrender still in willing captivity
to its beauty, mystery and myth.
Rainbows beguile by their fleeting rarity
as ephemeral as life itself -
temporal blessings suspended in time
unintended and undeserved,
spectral bridges between here and there -
between what is and what should be.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 9:11 AM UTC
coffee.
we meet at starbucks and i can almost pretend nothing changed until i feel the distance in your voice.
i am calm and quiet. i did not expect this
yet here i am sitting in front of you as you explain how you feel (a rarity).
and you and i are alike in more ways than i realized before.
cantalope.
flying through the young night air
i feel alive and free and happy again.
i meet theresa j hanson. dancer, 19, long thin hair and long thin body.
she says she's heard a lot about me and i am surprised and i like her very much (or my first impression anyways) even though you told me that one time that you had *** with her and other girls would probably instinctively hate her. but i can't. she's just so nice and anyways that *** had nothing to do with me.
she gives us cantalope and me ice water.
cigar smoke.
we go out on the little apartament porch and you smoke the cheap cigar, the kind your grandfather smokes. get a red solo cup for the ashes and i found an old ***** butter knife out here. and we sit. and unexpectedly you say can we start over. and im shocked(you've suprisde me so much tonight) but so grateful and of course we can. you blow smoke rings and when you say whooo are youuu i cannot help but think of alice in wonderland and you are the smoking catepillar who asks life's hard questions and am i alice or the queen or the mad hatter or lewis carroll
coming back.
we reinact a a scene as if we just met and i kiss you as if it's the first time and that is how you will remember me and my lips are cold and your mouth is full of smoke and the kiss is fire and ice it's a wonder we did not steam. something so you'll remember me{i will never forget} and i guess we'll figure out on the way.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Fantasizing
Feeling
Needing
Something scarce is eating at my melancholy.
As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood.
I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips.
My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine.
Unalloyed ecstasy
His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer.
I beg to feel his breathing
For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire.
Slow motion when I fantasize.
A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification.
A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality.
Rarity that comes as one.
He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty.
One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma.
I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs.
The definition of love is embraced through his actions.
Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable.
He makes me feel amity.
He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk.
I can sense him so close,
yet when I open my eyes
I’m alone.
He is what every women searches for.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
Surfing across the glaze of light
Multiverse into one, this universe shines bright
Condensed energy upon my sight
Mystery upon this 'life'
All is multiverse stitched into one universe
All universes stitched upon each other
Tension upon layer and layers
Heaven, Hell, reincarnation, all are bound by makers
One moves upon a series of 'matter' or vibrations after the shell is removed or gained
However rather low, high, negative, or positive energy, all is remained
Logic
A mere barrier designed and captivated by a mind
Grasping your vision, your perception, your multiverse
Either a hinder or power surge
Forming pieces of ones quilt to converge
A poisonous psychedelic
The rarity of an ancient relic
It is yours, whatever it may be
Hold close, as it is all you may have
As the 'universe' of the multiverse leans and meets according to so
Then raving within your conscious, you see a brighter glow
You pursue, you make the most
Using the now gleam to move upon the multiverse you hope to have
Doing all in reality in order to keep the spark alive
What seems to be drab
What seems to strive
All according to the beholder
We keep these lights seemingly closer
Whatever they maybe
Whomever they maybe
What has never begun to start will never be over
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Let the bird of loudest lay
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be,
To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever’s end,
To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing
Save the eagle, feather’d king:
Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can,
Be the death-divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,
That thy sable gender mak’st
With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,
‘Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence:—
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none;
Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
‘Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix’ sight;
Either was the other’s mine.
Property was thus appall’d,
That the self was not the same;
Single nature’s double name
Neither two nor one was call’d.
Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either neither;
Simple were so well compounded,
That it cried, ‘How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.’
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.
THRENOS
Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix’ nest;
And the turtle’s loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:
’Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but ’tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
7.1k
Hey kid, you've been dead a few weeks and I'd just like to say hello. The ground has its first December coat of fragile snow over your dead body and I know you can't feel the cold but I'll tell you right now, I can see my frozen toes, just barely move them, breathe up into the sky, Id be lying if I said I still cry every day. But, I'm lying to myself if I said that I'm not trying to take back your pain every day in a way that won't make your heart start beating again.
I wonder if those butterflies ever drank up the nectar from your blood, probed their soft tongues into the velvet of your cuts, those razor blade ribbons, oh holy romantic, how you bleed like Mozart and bleed like ballads of classic rock stars, how they whip your face with sour sweat and drugs and drugs and drugs until you find yourself half asleep, brain swept under the rug.
Did you know only 1.5% of drug overdose related suicide attempts are successful? Beautiful blonde martyr for an ugly catholic high school in an ugly state in the ugliest of its hearts, how does it feel to be 1 in 100? How does it feel to be a rarity, carbon pressed into diamond? How does it feel to be cry for a week, left in the grass to roll like waves, buried without a name and a face and a grave?
In the latest of solemn sleep deprived nights I press my ear to the chest of the 100th depressed boy I come across and don't feel Vicodin climbing up his arteries, don't feel Klonopin, OxyContin, Ibuprofen. I can't seem to find the one, who knows, maybe you were it and all my efforts really were wasted. All those nights I've stayed up late did nothing. All those knives I stole, all that blood I wiped away with t-shirt sleeves, all the blankets I've put around stupid shaking shoulders, all the bittersweet will this be the last time your skin is this warm hugs, God did they mean nothing at all?
I lock my jaw into a permanent silence, buy back time by putting my money where your knife is. I take bets on when someone will die next. I read the label on every bottle of Xanax. I roll over in my bed again and again, and try to put you to rest again.
Amen.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
NEW YEAR INTROSPECTION PART FOUR
the air of maturity
is breathed today
with such rarity
that what is termed
the age of majority, <
is in reality not,
it instead being
a place of minority;
it's occupants being
the selfless lot who
give freely of their proffering,
offering themselves an offering
and considering themselves
adequately advantaged
as they willingly
position becoming likely
to be taken advantage
and taken for granted
hearts ready for breaking
yet give, love, share
heal, they do,
and freely so;
therein standing
in stark contrast to
the narcissistic hoards
who protect,
with pirouetting steps,
their barren nests,
empty hearts,
and meager pockets,
ever failing to realize
that nature’s law
bestows abundance best
at the selfless giver’s behest.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Love isn't a word
I throw around foolishly
Simply because I've been denied the opportunity
Of being held , filled with the possibilities
That one touch can carry
A simple caress
That serves as if to say
You're perfect
I wouldn't want you any other way
No such touches have came in my direction
Causing me to pick apart my reflection
Imperfections, one after the other
Become apparent
Because of one thing that was said
Even if I wasn't supposed to hear it - I did
and those words?
they haunt me
I'm sorry I don't believe it when you say you love me
My head pounds and my knees start to tremble
As a precaution I ignore whatever
It is I'm feeling, burying it so deep
It'll need a shovel
and a rope to emerge
You think it's unbelievable the extent I go to so I won't be hurt
I think it's unbelievable that you claim to know my worth
When I'm not sure myself
Fearing you're just one more of many
Attempting
To take advantage
Of the self image I posses that's in shambles
I'm sorry I can't believe your compliments
Those sweet words you say with honesty
sincerity, unquestionable truth
A rarity in itself, especially coming from you
Inside me there's a girl smiling
Next to the one crying,
bruised from years of being used
poisoned with sugarcoated I love you's
And promises made
With fingers crossed
I'm sorry I don't believe I'm enough
I look in the mirror and I hate what I see
Automatically I think of other girls and the joy they may bring to your life
While I sit happily alone
And I know
I can't possibly love you if I don't love myself
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
The Christmas rush has started, and the countdown has begun
Advent doors are opened, but look what you have done
You've ridiculed the Bounty bar, and your spoiling all the fun
Why buy a Celebration, if your not happy after one ?
What's behind the cardboard doors, what did you all expect
A gold ring perhaps, or the keys for a corvette?
Why bother with an advent, when you have no respect
There's no need for chocolate genocide, or coconut neglect
You shouldn't be so outraged, with your Christmas Celebrations
I don't understand the malice, or the advent hesitations
If you don't want a bounty, buy heroes or sensations
It's hardly a matter for Interpol, or the united nations
Celebrations are your choice, there's no cause for your regret
The outcome is quite obvious, why are you so upset
Are the pictures not a clue, to what your gonna get ?
No rarity of Bounty hunters, so don't mess with Boba Fett
Are Maltesers that much lighter, in a Galaxy far away
Maybe you will find Mars, in between the Milky Way
A Twix or Galaxy Caramel, they we're for a different day
But you've dissed your celebrations, and no longer want to play
Some YouTube clips have surfaced, and I have read the blogs
I think it's just pathetic, seeing chocolate thrown down bogs
Your creating your own misery, as well as yule time logs
You won't be very happy, when your toilet blocks and clogs
On day two you still complained, and you wanted to resist
Is that because the chocolate, was not on your Christmas list
Would you be pleased with mistletoe, if you never did get kissed
Christmas spirit has been lost, with your Snickers in a twist
Some people are just morons, that's the message that they've sent
Their expectations are to high, and cruel jokes are never meant
Why is Bounty not as good, to start of an event
A Snickers in your calendar, doesn't mean a ruined advent
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
The Pigeon Gent,
He woos and coos around the river bent.
Pursues his muse with artful dance and skillful prance,
With inflated neck and ruffled plumage, until his energy or luck is spent.
He then resides by ebbing tides to ponder on his next advance.
"Now Now", "Whats This" the gent exclaims,
A shadow looming from the skies.
With ***** and claps he glides and lands with full surprise,
He spies the intruder, "A fellow Brooder".
Pigeon gent cant believe his eyes.
Pigeon Gent cannot believe the sauce,
The scurge seems intent on taking his prize by force.
At once he knows he must respond,
And force this illbread vagabond to abscond.
At once chest puffed and muscles flexed,
With wild eyes he jabs and pecks.
To teach this ruffian respect,
So on his actions he may later reflect.
He stands his ground both large and proud,
To make example of this foul winged burglar from the clouds.
"You insult me sir" he shouts aloud,
To make his intentions clear for all the crowd.
For several rounds they fight and scuffle.
With intruder retreating, feathers ruffled.
Then bested suiter fairly parted,
The quarrel ends as fast as started.
The vanquished victor displays and grooms,
As peace and honour now resumes.
Soon the ripples upset the green,
An armada of ducks come on the scene.
Alerted by the heightend coos,
They race to see what act insues.
The mighty mallards, Kings of the river,
None contest their right of way.
Their ways of conduct such generous givers.
Majestic river royalty, the law is always what they say.
On bank or shallow pebbled river they have always been,
They love to feed and breed amongst the river scene.
There royal cape made up of browny reds and shimmering greens,
reflects and intejects on mirrored water skies and evergreens.
To their mates for life and lady lovers,
The mallard gent is like no others.
Such loyalties are seldom seen,
In modern times and different dreams.
Fine and lean with striking features,
Best examples of river teachers.
But at any moment no matter how abrubt,
A river duel may easily erupt.
Battle can ensue and rage,
As both apponents approach and engage.
For they mate for life as duck and wife,
A rarity in any age or life.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
The pain.
The agony.
The tenseness of your body.
The rage.
Everything inside is burning.
Everything raging inside.
Everything out of control.
Everything inside is chaos.
Your body is mad.
Your body is crazy.
Your body is weak.
Your body is terrified.
To cry alone.
To lay alone.
To pray alone.
To die alone.
Rage going crazy.
Rage is on fire.
Rage is mad.
Rage is taking over.
Bliss is sweet.
Bliss is perfect.
Bliss is rare.
Bliss is fleeting.
Fear is hateful.
Fear is terrible.
Fear is common.
Fear is there.
Weakness taking over.
Weakness fighting for you.
Weakness dying inside you.
Weakness is you.
Fighting inside consumes you.
Fighting outside loathes you.
Fighting everywhere reaps you.
Fighting is you.
Failure isn't an option.
Failure is a path.
Failure is in us all.
Failure is imminent.
Leadership is in us all.
Leadership is dangerous.
Leadership is for a good soul.
Leadership isn't meant for all.
Goodness is a great thing.
Goodness is an uncommon thing.
Goodness is hard to find.
Goodness is easy to make.
Brokenness is my thing.
Brokenness makes you stronger.
Brokenness builds you up.
Brokenness defines us all.
Happiness is so amazing.
Happiness makes us better.
Happiness makes us wake up.
Happiness is all we need.
Love is a wondrous being.
Love is only a rarity.
Love will fill your soul with goodness.
Love can make the worst the best.
For us all we shall be happy.
We will all be respectful.
We will all be happy.
We will all fail.
The key is to accept some defeats.
The key is to be all you can be.
The key is to disperse from bad.
The key is to embrace the greatness.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 9:35 AM UTC
Someone asked me,
Who is a teacher?
A pathway to degree?
Or holds a position deeper!
‘Union of multiple roles’, I said,
Is a teacher’s true identity;
One who enlightens the road ahead,
Assisting selflessly which is a rarity.
Playing a huge role in our upbringing,
And giving us a constant support;
Teachers were there motivating,
In the times we felt lost.
They teach us the art of life;
Losing sleep for other’s child,
New and innovative ways they devise;
It is incomparable what they provide.
The ones who are always well-wishing
Steering to right path and escorting;
They instill a passion for learning,
Student’s success is their earning.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
For years, they stole and robbed from our pockets.
For years, they murdered what faith we had,
Killed what hope we gained for ourselves.
Poverty loomed over us like death, the
Loss of materialistic payment. Currency controls;
We have none.
Beginning with a silly addition to parchment and paper.
A "stamp act," if you will. Oh, the rarity of a few extra
Coins to spend on a cake for the mistress!
Rebellion and violence against the act increased,
The Sons, the ones of Liberty left
Blood splattered on the ground we walk on.
Fear installed in the hearts of agents,
Collecting and shivering as coins ring in their satchels.
Soon, though, they left. Resigned and replaced themselves with
Another thief.
The Townshend- adding cents more to imported,
Provided, goods. The people starved for things
They need and can not afford.
Naive. They had materials. They had the skill,
But no need to use what they contained in their minds
And their bodies.
Begin the new world! Spin your own yarn and twine!
Build your own shoes! You don't need the goods
From old English factories and makers.
The disagreements and retaliation, the lack in
Morality in the brainwashed heads of soldiers.
A bothered redcoat drew his gun, leaving holes,
Horrible voids.
The dive from cliff to cliff, swing from tree to tree,
The ****** of blood and
The determination to be freed from the grasp of
A controlling monarchy.
The greed they exhibit and the cruelty.
Revenge for taking what is ours?
Sweet tea, English tea,
Soaked in the harbor. The tax will be no more!
The need for peace, rejected by one
Who wanted control and a steady reign.
The isolation, suffocation of the new land like an
Abused child.
It was only a matter of time before the child ran away.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
I don't know what to think
when i'm staring in your eyes
more akin to speak
in blind lullabies.
than logistify
my heightened
surmise
in flight
to somewhere nice
if only for tonight
come with me this night
ignite
the cindered fires
of our desires
and incite
the throws of light
in **** obscurity
moaning through the sincerity
of our oddities
gleaming in the rarity
of our academy of lust
all or bust
entrust the accounting
of blaspheme
to the enemies
of poverty
and shove me
all the way down your throat
fill you
instill you
with the hope
of a million
grinning in **********
of the tangled mental merchants
of pretty lights and custom curtains
drawn at first light
dispersing
amongst cursing pedestrians
prior to ***********
of forceful ************
with an another human
lightened strikes the truant
in 9 months of fluent
agony
just imagining little Timmy
has me scavenging for a shimmy
to escape
its social ****
to a blind ape
still patting his head
don't be mislead
by ***** carriers
pack your own barriers
and prepare for the scarier
side of a mans mind
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
I watch the surfers
Sleek black forms
Bobbing up and down
Odd cormorants
Flocking here
Waiting
A New England rarity
Good surf
On a bright summer day
How long
have they waited
A life of
Vigilance
And anticipation
I wonder
Why they pass
On wave after wave
Opportunities lost
Having waited so long
From my view
Up on high
Their mistakes are
Laid bare
Future and past
A Rolling set
They wait
Adrift
ocean of time
Until the right wave
Comes
And carries them
Into the present
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
i don't want a rarity
a full moon that only floats
in your midnight sky
once a month
nighttime feels so open,
you shout things
you'd never whisper
in the daylight
and let go of the fear
that surfaces with the sun
i think i'll break all your clocks
at twelve in the morning
to immortalize
our candid midnights,
so that your worries
will never rise
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
she’s so phat!
can’t deny
a simple fact
it’s worth a try
to start anew
all that we knew
to forget
for good
or for worse
i don’t need a purse
have all the mon
in the world
all the gold
so cold
make it warm
love’s a storm
has no form
but a sphere
wild deer
still dreamin’ of ‘em
ain’t no Eminem
just a young man
of arms
charity and alms
such a rarity
in our selfish world
of calamity
unthinkable disaster
tulip, rose and aster
make your heart beat faster
like a drum machine
Dash Berlin
voice and beat
so neat
that girl
a friend of my soul
rhythm
with no blues
happiness
i choose
to carry on
fighting
for what’s right
sleepless
day and night
shaken but not mixed
i still get my kicks
from palm reading
all my wounds
are bleeding
with red wine
guardians of time
lost in their stride
stick to your pride
follow your dreams
anguish sins
belittle the devil
within you
there’s a universe
of wisdom
an ocean
of beauty
get no *****
but acclaim
your name
done in clay
on the walk of fame
let’s call it a day
21.05.2012
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
Being in love is something not many people
will ever get the chance to experience.
That's how rare it is.
But that doesn't mean it's not powerful,
despite it's rarity among individuals.
But I can tell you.
I can tell you what being in love really feels like.
Actually, that's a lie.
And anyone that tells you that
obviously hasn't been in love;
because being in love is one
feeling that cannot be described.
It's just something amazing and incredible
and beautiful
that we feel - if you're lucky, of course.
But let me try my best
to tell you how it feels.
Being in love
feels like a thousand
butterflies taking flight
in your stomach.
Once you've found that person
you want to be with forever,
you'll know.
You won't have any doubts
or second thoughts
because in your heart,
you'll just know.
And that's when it becomes
impossible -
absolutely impossible -
to picture life without them
by your side,
smiling up at you in the early hours of the morning,
being there for you when you need it most.
Seeing your significant other,
even being in the same room as them,
makes your heart swell with joy.
And if you think just the sight of them
is amazing,
wait until you get time alone with them.
Every single inching second
seems like a gift,
yet it doesn't seem like enough.
Just imagine lying down in bed
with them, watching their chest
rise and fall,
feeling their eyelashes
flutter against your lush pink cheeks,
or being wrapped in their
gentle inviting arms.
Or what about
the feel of their cool fingertips
against your cheek,
across your neck,
entwined in your hair.
Think about all the power
and magnificence a single kiss can hold.
Being in love
is something i never thought i would experience,
not in a million years.
But now that it's
happening,
I can't picture what life would be like
without him.
And maybe that's a dangerous thing.
Maybe that'll be out to get me one day.
But it could be an amazing thing too -
spending the rest of your life
with that one special person.
The one that
you can truly,
with all your heart,
say that you love.
a.m.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
It’s really a feeble attempt to make something between one and five work in our daily lives. They have gone from an intriguing idea and amount of worth to a silly little gift grandparents hand out freely on Valentine’s Day along with a card worth more than the contents. They've never set foot in any wallet of mine; they simply always made their way back behind my socks. The valuable of least worth I owned was never spent strictly based on rarity. These days you are a mistake just like all the other rarer coins like that three-legged buffalo nickel only I could maybe pay a bit of college tuition with one of those. You can bring in about four Lira though; enough to get a big bowl of any kind of noodles and sauce they have down at that restaurant in Istanbul near the Grand Bazaar. That night I stopped a little closer to my hotel and spent my last four on a beer with my meal. We kept walking and saw that young boy shivering as always against the cold vents that produced less heat than my freezer back home. No change jingled in my pockets because I had eaten my fill. A thousand suns heated my back without that jacket but the warmth was bitter like stolen Turkish Delights. I couldn't tell if he was going to drape that jacket around his tiny body or have it stolen by one of the bigger kids. We still spoke though. I know that was the day I discovered the language of the universe.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
Heavy and laboured the air permeates within
Coursing through the maze of tunnels.
Undeterred of where stone ends and rock would begin
Survival that drives to fill its channels.
Slow rumble that ignites the need to beat
Awaken functions both lacklustre and listless
The engine behind these dread ridden feet
Drag its load through mundane tasks emotionless.
At the core there resides the truest of stones
A jewel of sheer rarity that inspires wonder
Breathes life selflessly into dead broken bones
It throbs and ebbs with silent subtle power.
Claimed it and perched it deep on a pedestal
Protected it like it's the one and only source
It's what that keeps us sane and tolerable
It's what that pulls us through our course.
Whenever I think of if this gem would last
This monolith of a heart that I prop up *****
Stands steadfast hopeful of the light it'd cast
We have learnt so much of it to know that it is perfect.
You are perfect...
.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
I love mysteries
but not just the type
printed in black ink
in binded books
I enjoy the mysteries
that walk
that contain a set of lost eyes
whose lips speak words
in a particular voice
whose ears always have earphones
whose mind drifts off
whose face of concentration
is something quite beautiful
I like that kind of mystery
whose laugh is unique
whose smile is a rarity
and has rarely spoken
to me
we only speak with our eyes
exchanging wondrous stares.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
You will never understand the contribution you have made to my life,
You are the friend that really came through for me when I found myself in strife.
No-one else could see past the mistake I had made,
They chose to ignore how I felt and fixated on my darkest shade
I have always looked up to you, you have always inspired me
You've always been the one I've looked at when deciding who I'd like to be
Please don't throw your life away,
I really count on you
I know that being here for me is something you can do
I love you, I appreciate you.
- Brianna Carter
You look up to me,
Quite literally,
But in this case you mean metaphorically
Yet similarly,
I looked up to you,
Size doesn't matter just a point of view
You are a better person than I,
As pure and beautiful as the stars and the sky
In harmony, elements defy,
The birds and the planes that roar or sigh
No matter what happens, you always come though
Shrug it off, move on, it's just what you do,
This is why I wish I were like you
Yet despite all this you look up to me?
I am blind, can't really see clearly,
But even I can tell you are a rarity
A treasure, and thus better than me
-Conor Blatchford
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC