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"singlehandedly" poems
You singlehandedly changed my life But not in a good way You dragged me through A battlefield of emotions You made me apologize When I did no wrong You made me feel even weaker When I wasn't feeling so strong You treated me the opposite way Of how I treated you I put you so high on my list of priorities Ashamed to say you took the number one spot And now you've left me Acting as though I don't exist Or that my existence is unimportant This happened so many times But I refused to see the signs And gave you the benefit of the doubt But you were always manipulating me Into thinking everything was my fault Or that I'm the undeserving one But truthfully speaking You're the liar and the one Who took full advantage of my willingness to love and heal you I tried to surrender multiple times And walk away You wouldn't let me Always kept me wondering and second guessing Forcing me to believe you cared about me But worst of all Getting me to believe that when you said "I love you" You were actually being true But you weren't And for that You are the predator I am the prey And it will always be that way
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
Love Is A Battlefield
This elastic band has stretched as far as it possibly can Now is the time to cut the cord Over enough is more than enough It's time for the narcissist to be unveiled Oh bride of Satan For the wolves in sheep's clothing to be called out Your time is up! We've had enough! People are not as stupid as you'd like them to be That spoiled little brat of a child inside is to be silenced for good Singlehandedly you have destroyed your relationships Systematically you have ruined your friendships Over enough is more than enough The true meaning of loneliness you will now encounter Your fragile mask has shattered into pieces The protective cover has blown away   Exposed you will stand Finally everyone will see you for the serpent you truly are No one is buying the lies you have so generously been selling No matter how great a bargain Your mind games and tactics have become stale Over enough is more than enough The reality which awaits you is harsh and bleak From your put on laugh to the fake compliments Both come from the same dark and empty space A bottomless pit of deception in which you lurk   Hollow vase you are Collage of fabricated personalities You model yourself on others But can never hold down one character for too long   Over enough is more than enough Like a blank canvas you are vacant to take on any shape or form You wear a fake smile and your eyes are dead You destroy like a bull, but hurt like a baby Your brain is corroded and your spirit is ill   Your own medicine you will drink It will consume you from the inside out Implode you will Troublemaker and schemer Over enough is more than enough You are driven by your severe deep-rooted insecurity and shame You prey on the empathetic Virtual vampire, always looking for someone to drain You do unto others as you would NOT have done unto yourself A conscience you were born without   Quick to quote a scripture or two But slow in applying it to yourself And even the devil knows the score Over enough is more than enough Your condescending eyes will be plucked out by a ruthless crow You will burn in your own defeat and your perfume will be sulphur Down you will tumble from your pedestal You no longer have a place in my life You no longer have a place in my heart But more importantly You no longer have a place in my mind
0
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 2:05 PM UTC
Over Enough is More than Enough
This elastic band has stretched as far as it possibly can Now is the time to cut the cord Over enough is more than enough It's time for the narcissist to be unveiled Oh bride of Satan For the wolves in sheep's clothing to be called out Your time is up! We've had enough! People are not as stupid as you'd like them to be That spoiled little brat of a child inside is to be silenced for good Singlehandedly you have destroyed your relationships Systematically you have ruined your friendships Over enough is more than enough The true meaning of loneliness you will now encounter Your fragile mask has shattered into pieces The protective cover has blown away   Exposed you will stand Finally everyone will see you for the serpent you truly are No one is buying the lies you have so generously been selling No matter how great a bargain Your mind games and tactics have become stale Over enough is more than enough The reality which awaits you is harsh and bleak From your put on laugh to the fake compliments Both come from the same dark and empty space A bottomless pit of deception in which you lurk   Hollow vase you are Collage of fabricated personalities You model yourself on others But can never hold down one character for too long   Over enough is more than enough Like a blank canvas you are vacant to take on any shape or form You wear a fake smile and your eyes are dead You destroy like a bull, but hurt like a baby Your brain is corroded and your spirit is ill   Your own medicine you will drink It will consume you from the inside out Implode you will Troublemaker and schemer Over enough is more than enough You are driven by your severe deep-rooted insecurity and shame You prey on the empathetic Virtual vampire, always looking for someone to drain You do unto others as you would NOT have done unto yourself A conscience you were born without   Quick to quote a scripture or two But slow in applying it to yourself And even the devil knows the score Over enough is more than enough Your condescending eyes will be plucked out by a ruthless crow You will burn in your own defeat and your perfume will be sulphur Down you will tumble from your pedestal You no longer have a place in my life You no longer have a place in my heart But more importantly You no longer have a place in my mind
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56
light my fuse on fire and set me aflame watch as you singlehandedly set me ablaze what is it like to watch me burn, baby? I'm no better than cinder, ashes in an urn. lately I feel just like charcoal residue, remember when I was sweet and wet like honeydew? do you remember when I was good to you? how much longer can we pretend? that we know when this war will end, I can't express how badly I miss my best friend. charging towards each other from opposing ends of a battlefield, no matter how much I beg, your sword you will not yield. pull out your guitar and play a chord I don’t know how much longer I can afford to run around on this chessboard moving pawns and rooks when we should be swimming in ponds, and reading books. thoroughly covered in brambles I‘ll wait as you amble who knew we could get so tangled in something we thought we could handle? we’re filled with pride and jealousy, resentment and envy too how can we come back from this? what did we lose?
0
Jul 3, 2021
Jul 3, 2021 at 8:21 PM UTC
surrender burns
"We can do anything we like as long as it is UNIMPORTANT. But in all IMPORTANT matters the system tends increasingly to regulate our behavior." Here, simply, is our delusion: progression of society is no idealist illusion. Surrendering our dignity, we traded our autonomy for the same ****** technology that leads us to singularity. We could **** the scientists, and burn the bots before they breathe, bomb the books; desist, resist! We offer up no real solutions So all we ever do is seethe craving counter-revolution, so I guess it's up to me to end Hawking singlehandedly in the great name of Kaczynski, the only logical solution as far as opened eyes can see.
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Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 7:41 PM UTC
Mad Man
Singlehandedly turn dreams into         nightmares I see aqua eyes in the back of       your head I feel a gnawing, a longing,      if only for a few moments as I shake myself awake. All dreams end up the same. Fall 2011
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
the nightmare
*When she is over joyed by love-filled emotions, her words delicately dance upon the page, When she is brokenhearted, disheartened, and overwhelmed by darkness, her words fall heavy and splatter all over the stage. When her wings are raised in flight, it is love, singlehandedly, lifting her up, ever so gracefully, When she is spinning around, out of control with two left feet, it is pain and anxiety forsaking her--disappointingly. Her poetic dances are well known for being freestyled, erratic and spontaneous, Be it a classical ballet, or an explosive routine, her artistic expression is always crafted   and delivered with style and finesse. By Lady R.F. (C)2017*
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Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
❤ Poetic Dance ❤
You used to disappear for months at a time I was too young to understand but I did anyways You hurt me like you hurt yourself The difference is I remember As children we were sad and tragic misfits Hell bent on escape of some kind You used to try to jump out of second story windows Enough to break eternal but not to close your mind I found you once trembling in the kitchen In your pocket was a handful of capsules Ran for help and with reinforcements recommitted you You told me I could stop you now but there would be a tomorrow Your depression worsened and school became your nemesis You singlehandedly proved how cruel and evil children can be to others A victim of your instability and chemical imbalance A social untouchable, they kicked you and you scampered under the porch The progression across the spectrum of moods made you manic I could handle you when you had lost hope, but you became unpredictable Needing everyone’s help, you couldn’t bear to act alone Always making scenes we were bashful when in crowds I picked you up after class and you showed me your self-assigned art project Your room was filled with them, scribbles on the walls Poetry and carved incantations and letters Just the way you were when you lived in the hospital I will always remember when I was first allowed to visit Your expression dull, eyes dead and voice hoarse but constant Your babble was brilliant even though you spoke in tongues Drew me equations, diagrams, promises and master plans I keep them still and hope that you will make no replications Reminder of the horror that goes into reparations
0
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 3:34 PM UTC
54. Reparations 12/14/10
You used to disappear for months at a time I was too young to understand but I did anyways You hurt me like you hurt yourself The difference is I remember As children we were sad and tragic misfits Hell bent on escape of some kind You used to try to jump out of second story windows Enough to break eternal but not to close your mind I found you once trembling in the kitchen In your pocket was a handful of capsules Ran for help and with reinforcements recommitted you You told me I could stop you now but there would be a tomorrow Your depression worsened and school became your nemesis You singlehandedly proved how cruel and evil children can be to others A victim of your instability and chemical imbalance A social untouchable, they kicked you and you scampered under the porch The progression across the spectrum of moods made you manic I could handle you when you had lost hope, but you became unpredictable Needing everyone’s help, you couldn’t bear to act alone Always making scenes we were bashful when in crowds I picked you up after class and you showed me your self-assigned art project Your room was filled with them, scribbles on the walls Poetry and carved incantations and letters Just the way you were when you lived in the hospital I will always remember when I was first allowed to visit Your expression dull, eyes dead and voice hoarse but constant Your babble was brilliant even though you spoke in tongues Drew me equations, diagrams, promises and master plans I keep them still and hope that you will make no replications Reminder of the horror that goes into reparations
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30
He was born from the darkness of man's sin- a monster, a vengeful spirit, and a barter of death A whisper of an end resides in his breath; and swallows   up all in it's deathly grey cigarette stench You'll find him at the edge, you'll hear him creeping in every corners crack He will follow by day as a shadow of every lonely previous night He'll shine on all your fears before you sleep; he'll chase you in your dreams—cutting the images of all your imaginations, a constant knife in your spine A blade of grass, he'll valley around your heart and water it's weeds He'll brittle your skin, belittle you in insecurities, and beneath his towel of hand- he'll wrap his darkness around your neck You'll wish upon a star, as he's the darkness surrounding You'll pray to a god, he'll prey on your doubts like a pouncing predator. His fingers are a remote to channel your anxiety- a device of your depression Placing unworthiness in your hand, as a weapon of your own self harm. He'll cut you from hopes, and pierce a dagger of misery into your soul You'll run, run into his arms that he lied a trap for you An uncomfortable long hug, he'll ***** you until you feel too ashamed to scream for help He'll promise you heaven, but give you a whole lot of hell first he'll give you his curse, he'll curse your very worth, and leave you bare and unholy—his unworthy curse He'll disguise his red hand with a bouquet of black roses, but beware his thorns, beware his thorns He'll treat you fairly in the abuse he gives us all. He'll attack you singlehandedly, but he has a hand in us all His goal is to raise an army of his slaved cowards, be weary- _fear wears red, in the devil's flowers_
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Jan 12, 2023
Jan 12, 2023 at 12:40 PM UTC
Fear wears red, in the devil's flowers
He was born from the darkness of man's sin- a monster, a vengeful spirit, and a barter of death A whisper of an end resides in his breath; and swallows   up all in it's deathly grey cigarette stench You'll find him at the edge, you'll hear him creeping in every corners crack He will follow by day as a shadow of every lonely previous night He'll shine on all your fears before you sleep; he'll chase you in your dreams—cutting the images of all your imaginations, a constant knife in your spine A blade of grass, he'll valley around your heart and water it's weeds He'll brittle your skin, belittle you in insecurities, and beneath his towel of hand- he'll wrap his darkness around your neck You'll wish upon a star, as he's the darkness surrounding You'll pray to a god, he'll prey on your doubts like a pouncing predator. His fingers are a remote to channel your anxiety- a device of your depression Placing unworthiness in your hand, as a weapon of your own self harm. He'll cut you from hopes, and pierce a dagger of misery into your soul You'll run, run into his arms that he lied a trap for you An uncomfortable long hug, he'll ***** you until you feel too ashamed to scream for help He'll promise you heaven, but give you a whole lot of hell first he'll give you his curse, he'll curse your very worth, and leave you bare and unholy—his unworthy curse He'll disguise his red hand with a bouquet of black roses, but beware his thorns, beware his thorns He'll treat you fairly in the abuse he gives us all. He'll attack you singlehandedly, but he has a hand in us all His goal is to raise an army of his slaved cowards, be weary- _fear wears red, in the devil's flowers_
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37
I'm not crazy. It's just imperative I let you know. I enjoy each nanosecond we share. Value every half, full and over the top smile you shoot my way. You see I've searched the world. And you're a gorgeous singularity. That beaming personality, brings me to my knees singlehandedly. You were right when we talked about regret. Live how you need to - ask for forgiveness later. So don't hate me now.   Because I'm telling you, somehow you mean a lot to me. I like you and I'm probably just another guy you're being too nice to. But I feel like this chemistry might be more solid than physics. I'm a realistic person with an emotional soul. I know me telling you this doesn't change anything in the 'now'. I respect you far too much to make moves on your loyalty. Because I haven't seen anything I don't like about you so far. I know I've found a friend in you. Someone truly special. I just know there is potential for so much more. In another world. I'll lasso planets together until I find a place next to you once more. My ever lasting perspective of you. Whom I totally adore.
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Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
Searched the World
Artists are not people who draw, or write, or make music. Poets are not just people who write, poets are observers, poets see the beauty and tragedy of life and put it into words. Those who draw are not people with pencils and paper, people who draw have figured out how they see the world, and how to recreate their views on paper. Dancers are not just people who can move to music, dancers are people who spell out stories with their being. Painters are not people with paint and a canvas, painters are the people singlehandedly making the world brighter. Artists are people with leaky faucets.
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
Artists
I was once a believer in true love I thought that if someone showed enough interest And enough care and love Enough tenderness and consideration That they would be able to, in turn, be loved and appreciated all the same When I gave that to you When I was a mere player in your game And bought into your plots and schemes When I believed your excuses, your deceit I came to the realization that all you did was reject me You dangled your love in front of me Just out of my reach With that, you ruined me You singlehandedly destroyed any hope I had for true love I hope you sleep well at night Knowing you destroyed someone who was once so sure of herself And so capable of loving Now all I am is numb
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Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Once A Believer
I have always fancied the idea Of being in a one-woman team Where I take on the world singlehandedly Without a sidekick Anyway, like I haven’t always been inclined to being alone? But that’s only because I thrive in solitude And wither in companionship And why, you may ask? Solitude is the only medium where I swim comfortably Amidst the love and hatred coexisting And so I’ll swim across the ocean to satisfy my hunger for seclusion - Only to find myself pursuing you Because no matter how stupendous the beauty of loneliness may ****** me My soul has been sold to the prettiest angel And alongside you I’ll never need any other form of camaraderie For their assistance is actually their weapon to strip me off The beliefs you have been indoctrinating me But here I am, anchored with shackles on my wrists and ankles Rooted to a lucid entity which engenders unfamiliarity And to you I’ll return when I break free Because it’s with you that I only wish to be.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Sweetest solitude
Reality tells me that maybe The little hands around my heart Are singlehandedly the only thing that makes this all bearable I say things are good, I say things are so good And I mean it I can hear the honesty in my voice And I know other people can hear it too But these little hands around my heart Are they holding rose colored filters over my eyes? I like to think that I believe things are good Because they actually and truly are good But when I think about it I really don't know for sure But that's how it is with everything I suppose
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
Sometimes The Uncertainty Of It All Kills Me
Singlehandedly, he changed the world With his giftedness. And carved his way into our lives With his geniusness. And how should we compare Such fascinating mind? Indeed he was a genius. He was one of a kind. Despite his human flaws, He made it to the top. The incredible inventions— Ambition couldn't be stopped. Even in his last days, He pushed, and pushed still, Until his final work was done. ‘Twas such an incredible will. And so, thanks to Steve Jobs— A great mind of the day— For his contributions In a prolific way. -Walterrean Salley
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Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
A Tribute to Steve Jobs
A shoe box filled with borrowed song lyrics About two cups of gel pens that still smell like hot glue and cardboard Probably 8 Fiji bottles of water with about 3 swallows left in each And a basket of hair supplies that are seriously lacking in bobby pins. I love A lot more people than I have room for And each one of them believe they hold my entire heart - I love A few indie movies here and there, a few artists here and there, Myself here and there - Maybe I love Reminiscing and trying to recreate the things I've lost Because I always lose. I wish for Traditional objects of desire: happiness, excellence, definite love - Shoes that don't have socks wedged where the toes should be - About $10 more in my bank account to spend on chocolate, A clear throat, a throat that doesn't always hold dissatisfaction- A better singing voice because music soothes the sting And I want to be irrevocably, singlehandedly responsible for healing myself Most of all, I want to continue to smile.
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Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
I have
You're stronger than I ever thought a person could be When your world broke, when god left you You singlehandedly rebuilt your own empire Chased after god and made him kneel before you But when you were lost for just moment My world fell to pieces You are not invincible Your walls may look like marble but shatter like glass And your love can disappear from my life with a single gust of wind From the moment that I lost you I've grown an unshakeable fear that I will lose you again I hold you like a delicate bubble of air in the palm of my hand Regard you like the Mona Lisa, an invaluable piece of my heart safeguarded by every precaution I lay down clouds before you feet so your goodness may never touch the treacherous ground I pray to a god I don't believe in to keep you safe Every moment you're away I imagine the tragedies that may befall you And how I could never rebuild an empire like you, find faith again I can't do this alone
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
imagining tragedies
Once, on vacation, my friend and I journaled about Where we saw ourselves 5 years from then. I didn't think once of you. Or him either. I envisioned wooden floors, A single toothbrush, My mug collection And a King size bed that Only my body lies on. My closet filled with button downs, And in the back of it, A box with the Burnt matches that Ignited every pain In my young adult-hood. I end up getting a dog, Because they're Guaranteed to be loyal, And because sometimes its Scary living alone in a big city. My journals are filled with stories Of failure Pages of declarations Of frustration and of hope. My window sill a comfortable seat Because every morning I make sure To see the sky To remind myself that the world is mine. That I am mine. My body and soul Ache, but just a little, Not as much as it does now. My tattoos as meaningful as ever My truths as prevalent. For once in my life, Perceptions others have of me Became irrelevant. On my table there's flowers, Flowers from the shop down the street, Singlehandedly picked by me. An ashtray I made in a week-long art class, A movie collection Because it makes me feel okay For any lack of affection. I envision myself unapologetic, A trait I finally mastered And maybe i'm not too hard on myself Maybe I finally got it together. 5 years from then, I'm not thinking of you, Or him. Freedom is a concept I finally Learned, After years of unsaid emotion, I got the life of pleasant solitude I So rightfully earned.
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
2022 pt 1
When the distance becomes too much to bare, When the phone calls come few and far between, When your back breaks, followed by your heart, under the weight of singlehandedly carrying the relationship… Let go. When your effort goes unnoticed. Let go. When he looks at you but no longer sees you, Let go. When you are giving pieces of yourself and only half existing, Let go. Untie your heart strings from his shoe strings. And then double knot his shoe strings together, So that he can no longer walk over you, So that he cannot chase after you. Let go. Find your smile. Look for it in the last place you had it, before him. Reacquaint yourself with it. Remove him from the creases around your mouth. Let go. When he touches you with hands no longer hot with passion, Let go. When he becomes too busy to even bother, Let go. When he repeatedly one word responds to your text messages, Let go. Olympic, stretch yourself. Unclench your fists. Prepare for the main the event. On your mark, Get set, Let GO!
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Let go
Ever since I watched you act in the movie "Jagame Thanthiram" I knew there was something special about you You took on a very complex role And brought a lot of character into it Next came PS1 Though your role was limited You did full justice to the character of "Poonguzhali" Right from the moment you emerged from the water To your feisty dialogues with "Vanthiyathevan" However, your finest hour Came in the film "Gatta Kusthi" Where your character "Keerthi" had to undergo a number of transformations From a fierce wrestler with short hair To a simple housewife with long hair And back The scene where you singlehandedly fought off all those armed goons Is one I'll never forget For the rest of my life Then we come to the movie "Archana 31 Not Out" Though, in my opinion, there wasn't anything remarkable About the movie as a whole You again did full justice to your character Right from the travails of your job as a teacher Including handling a class full of troublemaking students And dealing with a lot of uncertainty Due to the impending layoffs To facing a number of rejected marriage proposals For all of which you assigned cricketing terms And finally the ****** scene Where you delivered a speech That brought goosebumps to one and all You are not only an amazing actress But also a wonderful human being Bold and brutally honest And humble and down-to-earth at the same time Yes, you don't know me Nor would you have even heard of me But I can say with a lot of pride That I will always be a fan of yours
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May 24, 2023
May 24, 2023 at 1:38 PM UTC
I Will Always Be A Fan Of Yours
Ever since I watched you act in the movie "Jagame Thanthiram" I knew there was something special about you You took on a very complex role And brought a lot of character into it Next came PS1 Though your role was limited You did full justice to the character of "Poonguzhali" Right from the moment you emerged from the water To your feisty dialogues with "Vanthiyathevan" However, your finest hour Came in the film "Gatta Kusthi" Where your character "Keerthi" had to undergo a number of transformations From a fierce wrestler with short hair To a simple housewife with long hair And back The scene where you singlehandedly fought off all those armed goons Is one I'll never forget For the rest of my life Then we come to the movie "Archana 31 Not Out" Though, in my opinion, there wasn't anything remarkable About the movie as a whole You again did full justice to your character Right from the travails of your job as a teacher Including handling a class full of troublemaking students And dealing with a lot of uncertainty Due to the impending layoffs To facing a number of rejected marriage proposals For all of which you assigned cricketing terms And finally the ****** scene Where you delivered a speech That brought goosebumps to one and all You are not only an amazing actress But also a wonderful human being Bold and brutally honest And humble and down-to-earth at the same time Yes, you don't know me Nor would you have even heard of me But I can say with a lot of pride That I will always be a fan of yours
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39
Please don't look at me like that. I wasn't the one who delivered the first blow, the first push. It was you! Yes, you with the wide eyes and closed heart. You who singlehandedly brought me to my demise. All it took was a glance and a couple of words from your lying mouth. Nothing more, nothing less.
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Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
The Art of You
I have a habit to turn people into poetry before I even touch them and for that, I'm sorry. Im sorry I turned your eyes into a haiku about the ocean, about how they crashed into me and dragged me under before I could even take a breath. I'm sorry I turned your kisses into an epic about the hero that saved the entire city singlehandedly with his lips of satin gold. I'm sorry I turned Your heartbeat into ink spilling out of pens and fresh sheets of paper. I could write a library full of stories about each second your skin touched mine and I felt like I was on fire. I could write a novel about how we first touched each other's skin for the first time. I could write sonnets about how your smile just made everything in the world seem to stop in motion. I knew I would spend forever trying to burn the feel of your fingers through my skin but that's not now. People write about love and how good it feels. They write about the pain from heartbreak. Nobody talks about the crying in love or the feeling of heartbreak where it's like you're drowning and the feeling you get when you try to put your feet on the solid ground but there isn't anything there. Nobody writes about how some days you feel like you're flying and soaring and the next you plunged straight to the ground. Nobody talks about how love feels like it's magical at times and points where it's tears staining bedsheets and sleepless nights. I took a break from writing but the second you got me hooked my thumbs hurt from typing. I want to spend my entire ******* life telling people how your lips Against my neck felt like Sunday mornings and clean bedsheets. And how I felt so **** safe in your arms. My home doesn't have four walls and a bed, it's with you. In between your arms. You are the one place I don't want to escape from. I want to sell twenty million copies of a book telling how you would ramble about your fascinations or how you get frazzled about the twins or cars. People write about love and lust and heartbreak. I'm sorry I am one of these people. There aren't enough powerful words to describe to you how I feel and how bad it hurts when I know it's can't work. I'm sorry for turning you into poetry when I met you. When a writer falls in love with you, you never die. It's constantly in their writing. And you're a person who deserves to be remembered for eternity.
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Untitled
I have a habit to turn people into poetry before I even touch them and for that, I'm sorry. Im sorry I turned your eyes into a haiku about the ocean, about how they crashed into me and dragged me under before I could even take a breath. I'm sorry I turned your kisses into an epic about the hero that saved the entire city singlehandedly with his lips of satin gold. I'm sorry I turned Your heartbeat into ink spilling out of pens and fresh sheets of paper. I could write a library full of stories about each second your skin touched mine and I felt like I was on fire. I could write a novel about how we first touched each other's skin for the first time. I could write sonnets about how your smile just made everything in the world seem to stop in motion. I knew I would spend forever trying to burn the feel of your fingers through my skin but that's not now. People write about love and how good it feels. They write about the pain from heartbreak. Nobody talks about the crying in love or the feeling of heartbreak where it's like you're drowning and the feeling you get when you try to put your feet on the solid ground but there isn't anything there. Nobody writes about how some days you feel like you're flying and soaring and the next you plunged straight to the ground. Nobody talks about how love feels like it's magical at times and points where it's tears staining bedsheets and sleepless nights. I took a break from writing but the second you got me hooked my thumbs hurt from typing. I want to spend my entire ******* life telling people how your lips Against my neck felt like Sunday mornings and clean bedsheets. And how I felt so **** safe in your arms. My home doesn't have four walls and a bed, it's with you. In between your arms. You are the one place I don't want to escape from. I want to sell twenty million copies of a book telling how you would ramble about your fascinations or how you get frazzled about the twins or cars. People write about love and lust and heartbreak. I'm sorry I am one of these people. There aren't enough powerful words to describe to you how I feel and how bad it hurts when I know it's can't work. I'm sorry for turning you into poetry when I met you. When a writer falls in love with you, you never die. It's constantly in their writing. And you're a person who deserves to be remembered for eternity.
Continue reading...
3
the world underneath the thatched bowl of night is waiting for vernal beginnings. sleep is transit. dream is the locomotive. the wind blows through the window with a sequence of perceived ends. my only moon reels through everything's impending newness, trailing a far-flung equinox. clock's fulcrum turns a page and the now dislimned words tumble, scouring to be seen but denied of emphasis. if only we could singlehandedly blow each of the candles on the night's banquet, we wouldn't be this restless in waiting.
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Restless
More or less We wait In silence For our death Why are we alone Scared and confused By what the past has done And what the future will bring Closing doors Creating walls Between reality And imagination Our thoughts divided By walls of fear That linger By the waters edge Streams like rivers That flow like idea's Into the bleeding heart That we will singlehandedly destroy We will carry on Fighting for any chance To revive The dead inside of us
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Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
Why we do what we do
I utterly adore the way You say what you say. And you inspire me In more ways than one. It's the simpler way of expressing These undue feelings. Little do I understand my own Although I try. But writing about it, singlehandedly, Enables me a power. You write with your fingers But this feels incomparable. Every word seems to Divulge your clever thoughts. I want to be as open as you, Yet as passionate too. As good, As loved.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
Poetas