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Thomas Mooney Sep 2013
Admit it- you feel like it's ending-
the thinking, the talking,
the knowing,the looking,
the living, the loving

It's ending.

You follow the everything
with the palm of your hand
transformed in the world you were
once promised.

And you only know it for an instant.
And that's all it takes, anymore.

Love, for an instant.
Think, for a moment.
Live, though it's fleeting, out loud.

It's ending.  Your true life-
the one you wanted to live-
is the victim of expectation,
of answering, of following.

It's ending.  Admit it.
50 shades of ****** up,
I've ventured deep within you.
...scrutinized every centimeter,
every corner,
of that perplexing cavernous mind of yours.

                              I
                        ­                fell
                                            ­       in
                                                                love


...but somewhere between "I" and "love"
I found myself stumbling into the spaces between them.
I knew you were too weak
to catch me but
those cogent promises,
that compelling voice,
how could I not succumb, baby?
I never doubted you and that was my downfall.
I stood in the gap for you,
defended you,
when anyone pestered me with pessimism.
There's this saying about....
...a log being in your eye
yet you're trying to take a speck out of someone else's;
Let's just subliminally throw the ***** laundry out.
Out of all the wrongs I've ever done,
I'm able to say,
"I never cheated."
"I never gave up."
"I was always there for you."
"I kept my promises."

kinda distasteful that you can't, huh?
tbc has been discontinued.
                                             **TheEnd.
tbc: to be continued.
it ended the way it did bc I began exerting too many emotions and the person this is directed to doesn't deserve an ounce of it.
"TheEnd" represents the end, no space in between because there isn't anymore space in my poetry or life for another tbc.
POSSIBLE Oct 2017
at theend
of the day
theking goes
back in the
samebox
as thepawn.

Right next to the guns, poppers and wedding rings.  Right next to the forgotten kings words written in pages bent but unread, revealed and sent like bullets found a gun bed. Stories woven and unwoven through the magic of attachment.
RobbieG Nov 2021
quickthought
LOST 
GONE 
rewindback
GOOD
IDEA
cantremember
CREATI­VE 
 CATCH
slippedthrough
THE 
CRACKS
nevertocome 
BACK 
AGAIN 
m­isfortunatetruth 
TWO
WORDS
readfast
TWO
WORDS
readbold
BOLD
TOLD­
rereadagain 
FROM
START
theend

— The End —