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i sit here in tomorrow,
as you lay there in yesterday.
sunday 16th november '14 ~ credit: the creep that loved you ~ i find pieces of you in the breaths and whispers of daily life
Mosaic Apr 2014
You sit in sunshine
While nighttime caresses my lips
And sleepiness is a war keeping me
from your morning
You fit into tomorrow
While the past is a circle trying to be a square
Back to try our luck at the American dream
With three suitcases full of fading memories
Stories you don't care to hear
With people once near and dear
Now they've disappeared.

I left a Sydney summer romance
For a transcontinental breakup
In the dead of winter
I'd convinced myself I'd get back what I'd lost
In the lime-light

No where feels like home
But the open road
I'll go at it alone
Through deadzones
Through timezones

I say I'm finally home in Philly
But I say **** I don't mean
They said that's not where you're from
I say I'll start where I am
But I won't end up here.

So I flew out to a West Coast Christmas
To smoke some **** in the sun
But global ruined wrecked my fun

No where feels like home
But the open road
I'll go at it alone
Through deadzones
Through timezones

Now it's always sunny in Philadelphia
And raining in L.A.
The world has took a 180
What else can I say

I can't help thinking that I've done it all wrong
Traveled the world and back
Seen everything there is to see
And I have nothing to show for it
Besides the stolen sand in my suitcase
And faded summer dreams

No where feels like home
But the open road
I'll go at it alone
Through deadzones
Through timezones
Devyani Mahajan Nov 2016
We have our timezones.
You have lit my nights
with oil lamps,
and scribbled words,
dripping ink,
bright blue circular, circumventing words.

I have glistened your days,
with sunshine,
and the smell of rain,
with sprinkles of cool
breeze showering on you.

My candles and rays,
are tip toeing out of sight,
I fall short of noticing them,
(partly because work kills me)
but more so,
because you have made
them seamless,
and thriving.

My pages,
do not boast of love,
or affection,
or any of that miserable
writing,
they screams passion,
they rip into anger
and courage,
belief,
belief you sewed into me,
with your gentle hands,
fidgeting and seeking.

And your eyes,
do not burn from the sunshine,
they glow,
and stare into the depths,
I see in you.
I know you hate the rain,
so mine doesn’t actually come down on you,
it lingers with its scent teasing you.
The cold breeze doesn’t
suffocate your breath,
it travels through
your body- within your veins,
it is breath.

We have our timezones,
but we meet at the horizon.
Aleeza Nov 2017
I didn’t know you’d be here
dressed in jeans and a jacket unlike what you used to wear
I know those glasses perched on your nose
used to bump my nose ridge against them
as I pecked you on the cheek

unconsciously I straighten up
leaning against a granite bar
sipping champagne I’ve never liked
smiling my brightest smile even as it falters at the edges

I used to down 3 coffees
at 3am in the airport waiting for you
always the first one to greet your jetlagged laugh
airline food packets crinkling as we hug

this time you’re here without warning
possibly still drowsy from your flight
talking with the people we have left before
swirling the dark wine in your glass
the tiredness in your bones anything but evident

almost on habit my mind races
a thousand conversation starters I may never use
my nails clinking against glass
a free hand fidgeting with the rings on my finger

it has been a while
that much I can admit
and I barely remember what it was like
to stroke your hair in the taxi as you slept
or how you would scarf down a plate of pancakes within moments
or the way your hands would wave around as you talked

and ultimately I can say it’s been too long
as I pass my thumb over the silver of a wedding band
thinking of the promise engraved into its inside
and how the vows I made before having this
were too much like what I promised you

your voice loud and clear in my mind
timezones away and yet still so ecstatic as I told you the news
you swore to come back for the big day
hours into the night spent talking about how that was everything
about the blue flowers I wanted
and the cake I’ve always looked at from afar

then only a few weeks before
you tell me about how you couldn’t come
work was hectic and you couldn’t afford to lose a week
and I understood
yet I couldn’t help the stab I felt
so I pushed that down and smiled even if you couldn’t see it

on the day
I still looked for you
and your gentle urge for me to come forward with the swell of the music
I knew you wouldn’t be there
and yet a part of me hoped

when they played a video message from you
I couldn’t stop the tears
and I was streaking my face and my clothes
but it didn’t matter
you were almost a world away
but it felt like you were right there
snow falling all around you but your smile unfaltering in its warmth

and there you are
right across from me in this cramped room
and yes I’ve told you about nearly everything
from my kid to a new job to a reunion concert you should’ve gone to with me
yet I still hesitate to start anything
with you almost within arm’s reach

I gulp down more of the pale fizz
steeling my nerves as I decide
I of all people should talk with you
no matter what the years or the miles have done to us
for I may not have a chance like this soon

my steps are unsure but too quick to rethink
you don’t see me approach and that gives me a moment to breathe
before I tap your shoulder and you turn around
your face lit up more than the Christmas tree in the corner

your arms wide open before I know it
and my body leaning forward because it knows where it belongs
it’s a marvel how we still fit into each other’s spaces
almost our own universe away from everyone else
silent despite the thunder of our hearts

we pull away and still it feels like I’m home
with the laughter bubbling in our chests
and how could I forget
those eyes that are almost exactly like mine
ones I see every day in my reflection
a comfort I didn’t know I missed

after a while of more chit chat
we break away from the hustle of the people we barely know now
our glasses empty and on a table somewhere
there is enough in our systems to warm the chill of the night
and enough to make us stumble and giggle as we step away
leaving the music and the low lights
in favor of the moon and the calm

we lean against the railings of a terrace
talking about everything and nothing
with you first asking about the child you haven’t seen apart from the pictures
and me injecting questions about the place you’ve just moved in
I keep looking at the dark blanket of sky above us
and even as I nearly catch your gaze on me several times I don’t let you know
and my heart is as calm as ever
but for some reason I feel flowers bloom in the forgotten spaces between my ribs

somewhere between the last notes of a song thumping through the floor
and a light rain kissing our skin
your hand almost wanders into mine
as if it remembers too
how everything fits when it comes to us
but I see you pull back
snapping out of your thoughts and back into the reality
of who we are now and what we have
and what we lost

you ask me if it’s time for me to go
and it is but I don’t admit that out loud
so I say that I can stay for a while longer
and I am reminded of how beautiful you are under soft light
as your face breaks into an almost-smile

so there we stay
nothing more to say
as we understand each other beyond what any words can do
I keep thinking of how you will have to leave soon
and I know that this time
I will miss you even more

not sure if I will still be able to meet your sleepy eyes when you come home
not sure if I will still talk to you as often as I have since our timezones permitted it before but not now
not sure if any of our smiles will remain as the years take its toll on us
not sure if anyone will ever truly know me the way you did

I cave and say that maybe I should really go
you respond with a nod and an automatic stretching of arms
I settle into them one last time
steal a peck on your cheek and bump my nose ridge against your glasses
and I slip away knowing that we will find our way again
because that is what we have always done.
Alicia Apr 2019
Six hours behind.
If we were in the same time zone
I wouldn’t have to spend all my day
Waiting for you to wake up
And missing you like crazy,
And I wouldn’t **** up my sleep pattern
Just so I can talk to you.
dth Jul 2014
Looking at the picture of your house made me daydream about the day when I finally stood in front of your door and you waited for me to knock. My hands hovered with hesitation, trembled in vain, held by the bind of doubts and what ifs. I did not knock yet you knew that I was there, just like that you felt my presence; I could barely remember when did you start became so intuitive. Door slammed open, two pairs of eyes met for a fleet second and hands intertwined that instant. Our souls entangled and we swore in that moment we were infinite. Your very self broke down and I myself ruptured when we decided to lock the door and got ourselves enraptured by the feelings of regret, with cheeks wet and hairs messed. We caught each other’s clothing damp with god knows how much tears, yet we did not seem thirsty. I would not dare to say that we were sober, as we perpetually drank shots of our life essence—shaken, not stirred—and got a little intoxicated. I could taste our consciousness altered, surging like a mind-numbing deluge within our insides; I was afraid that we might get hangovers by the time the sun rose. Your fingers traced down my veins, yearned for unceasing strong pulses and tried to elucidate that it was not a dream, that it was not a pure delusional fantasy resonated by a mere cerebral cortex. Hearts beaten by the way we caress every single affliction that bonded the two of us, broke free from the misery we deliberately lived. Pieces by pieces you filled the cavity that used to draw close my heart and it was long gone after you. Now that we literally got each other’s back in our grasp, I could imagine how fragile yet how sturdy these very chassis that held two living beings could get. The boundaries fell into oblivion as we slowly melt ourselves together; like ice cream in the sun, like iron in the welding pit, like wolves beneath the moon, like thunder on the shore shut silent by thick clouds of entity. Fingers crossed that there would be no more 3.444 miles and two vexing timezones away between us. Like tempered glass on a car crash, I crumbled and I gave myself to you as whole. Our breath so fervent, fire could not seem to burn us. Knees weaken thus bodies slid down the wall, creaked the wooden floor and just like that shoes scattered and so did our heads, thoughts messed just the way we liked it. One year, two years, five years, ten years, one divine eternity and I still would not let this moment lapse.
Jesse Osborne Jul 2015
There's a painting by Botticelli
I've always loved,
showing Venus being born naked
from the ocean and
not fearing the current.
Those around her renounce her body,
scrambling to clothe her,
turn her virginal,
contain the way her eyes cross galaxies,
shine all the way to Pluto.
But she is soft, unwavering,
not noticing the mortals' concern
about her *******
and bare collarbone that could catch water
at its base.

I found you halfway across the world on the steps of the Uffizi
and in the 3 hours it took you
to show me some of the best art on earth,
I was transfixed only
on the orbits of planets in your eyes.
Shortly before the sun set,
you took me through the secret corridor
Cosimo de' Medici built to walk across the
rooftops of the city
where you kissed me but
told me you didn't believe in love,
that all you needed was art,
and Michelangelo,
and in that moment
I saw Venus in your collarbone.
Saw a shell under your feet,
saw the universe in the way your freckles connected,
saw how you immortalize yourself
among the rest of the art in Florence
so no human can bring you down to earth,
can make your heart stop,
show you what it's like to cross timezones
with a single touch.
And here I am,
wanting to be your Botticelli,
to paint the uneven ***** of your shoulders,
the crookedness of your right ankle,
your fear of exposing yourself to someone
who could love you.
It must be lonely out there, Venus,
on your little fishing boat by the sea.

Botticelli's painting was found
long after his death,
laid into the floor of
an abandoned villa in the south of Tuscany.
Venus looking lost and mortal
between cracked paint and chipping walls,
like the way you hide between
the dusty statues of the dead statesmen and fading portraits
long after the museum closes,
just you with only history to hold.
You want to believe in love
as past-tense,
like you've lost faith in present participles and the fact
that art is still being made,
and people are running barefoot into future conjugations
together.

Don't come back to land, Venus. Vanessa.
I won't be here waiting with a towel
or an art critic
or a spaceship.
But maybe,
just make a little room for me on your shell
under the sun,
atop steady waves or Florentine rooftops.
Throw the map overboard.
Let's forget the shore.

And Michelangelo and the rest of them
will smile as they see us off.
Amanda Stoddard Jul 2014
There is no hope for this sanity I spend my days divulging in.
I dive and dig and burrow my way through these sands of time
trying to find a mind my body would work well with
but these days, these days are numbered
and my life is a leap year.
It's February again and I am cold on the inside,
but it's actually July and it's hot outside
but my mind can't tell the difference.
My body is indulging in the solitude of snow and darkness and winter.
Whether or not my body knows that the days mesh together
and the weather doesn't exactly make you feel invincible
well the verdict is still out.
The cold makes me feel invisible and the heat makes me melt
my mind is on thin ice and mother nature knows more about me
than my own mother.
I am in love with the idea of belonging to no one
and never owning a calendar because these years
they all blend together in the end
and you end up trapped under 50 feet of snow
and debt and diapers and divorce papers.
Nothing is set in stone
and these hands on the clock you spend your days watching
are just fixed elements in your subconscious
making it feel like you have your life together
when in reality, you don't and never will.
This life is calendar year and our days are numbered
365 days until you realize you spent another year
watching a clock that ticks for you and a billion other people.
But when will you stop and realize, the stars are watching
and they never skip a beat.
And somehow this earth still turns slowly
even when yours feels like it's weighing down on your chest
and you can't breathe because it's too cold
and you can't run because you can't feel your feet
so you're stuck there wishing
that you remembered what summer felt like,
it's just another calendar year
and your car door is frozen shut again,
and you're already late for work.
and it's just another calendar year.

I'm in love with the idea of belonging to no one
but I'm in love with belonging to nothing instead.
It's just another calendar year
and I'm not going to waste it wishing for a sunshine
that won't be coming anytime soon.
The weather is bi-polar, as am I.
So I appreciate the change-
because I can finally relate to something
when everyone else is stuck wishing for the sun.

I look up at the stars and realize-
we're all in different timezones
but we all share the same sky.
my mind is everywhere right now and I think this really depicts that.
Cielo Gebilaguin Feb 2011
If after afterall,



I'd still take a stab at writing about you,

then I guess nothing has changed

from that psychedelic view.



It's barely noon and I feel that one

February where we stopped seeing that

view, a scenery so changed by oceans

and timezones and the ever changing me

and you.



After afterall,

these little peace signs still hang

around from my  neck, then I guess it's

the same as wearing my heart on my

sleeve, and your name's still on it.





*Reader, do not listen to William Fitszimmons on a Thursday, when you're on a deadline.
Hannah Sabine Mar 2013
been thinking about you, piano man.
I would stay up to talk to you,
four timezones away,
so late that the dusk would
kiss
the dawns light.
I'm trying to let it go though,
all those "what would of been" thoughts.
I had my closure.
But even though it's been
three years,
I still remember the ocean breeze
on your lips.
Awkward and innocent.
Like you used to be.
Now you're all walls
and no doors.
And although I know there's no,
"maybe one day,"
you'll live in the capillaries in my body,
in the scars I showed you first.
Beinghonest Feb 2016
Sometimes I lay on my bed,
When you lie asleep,
Makes me hate the timezones more and more -
But it allows me to think about you more and more.

I lay there and I dream of meeting you love,
I dream of kissing you the first time our eyes actually meet,
Of holding you tight.
I dream of the taste of your tongue,
Feeling the heat energy given off by your face when I remind you you're beautiful.

I dream of holding you tight
And whispering some ***** things into your ear,
Then you know exactly what I'm insinuating because you'll act uncomfortable.
I wonder what will happen,
Would you give me a church girl's response?
Would you act shy and tell me that you're only doing it for me.
Or would you just grab me,
And tell me by the means of your caresses that you want to...

I wonder if you'll mind,
Mind me and my desires...
Would you give yourself to me wholeheartedly or would you rethink our relationship?
I wonder if you would be mad at me if I forced my lips onto yours in public.
I wonder if you'd be submissive to me, or maybe you'd be the one making demands, begging me to kiss you, give you massages, or just to hold you because you want me closer.
I wonder if you're like me,
One who gets tired of hearing confessions
And just wants to feel loved in another way - by another way, I mean I want you to taunt my pleasure receptors.

I want your skin on mine,
I want to feel you exhale upon my skin...
I just want you,
A lot...
Straightforward with my feelings there :D
-just being honest
Juno Oct 2018
You used to be my bestest friend

but now I hardly know you.

we live in different places

different timezones too.



You've grown up so quickly,

But I guess that I have too.

Just let me tell you one last thing

A gift from me to you.



you were understanding

together we were twins

yes, you were a bit smaller but

That got you all your wins



you were like a role model

kind, caring, funny

you cared when I got hurt

you made every day so sunny



remember the day that we met?

at the pool, with our families

we still had no idea

That soon our friendship would be set.
This is for a friend that I’ve lost contact with over the years.
TR Takoda Apr 2013
When people are far away, it doesn’t mean we stop loving them.

But it’s a different sort of love.

An ache in your heart, and in your thoughts, when they come up in conversation.

A small lump in your throat when you think about how long it’s been since you’ve seen them, or hugged them, or even gotten a text from them.

It’s that single tear you shed when you get a meaningful voicemail after you missed their 4th call in two days because of timezones or work schedules or weird sleeping patterns you hadn’t even realized you’d developed since the last time you were a part of their lives.

It’s forgetting what they, specifically, look like but still remembering how they smell. And how their hand feels in yours.

Just because they aren’t near you, or living life with you day to day anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t love them just as much.

It’s possible that you love them even more. Their everyday mistakes aren’t around to remind you that they aren’t perfect. Their little slip ups won’t unconsciously disappoint you, nor will their poorly timed jokes and indiscreet innuendos make you feel uncomfortable in the presence of others.

Instead you have all of your memories together that are worth keeping around.

And the solid truth that you do so want to see your loved one again.
mims Jan 2014
I hope you know
I always choose
to miss a couple of hours of sleep
just to make our timezones meet
and get a glimpse
of a pixelated you.

I hope you know that amidst
the rustles and bustles of bicycles
moving and flying around
my playground
I sneak into a quiet spot
just to send you a text message to know how my day is going.

It's my choice to make you feel like I am just there :)
maybella snow Jul 2013
i want to go to sleep
     but you're just waking up
  so now i don't want to

timezones = ruining lives
Vaampyrae Sep 2020
It's amazing how people operating in different
schedules can still find the time to love each other.

I guess love surmounts the laws of the universe too.
We just keep getting cheesier, don't we?
Love overcomes all boundaries.
Anna Patricia Sep 2017
my heart breaks a little
knowing that one day,
we'll be miles apart.

my heart breaks a little
thinking about the fact
that we'll have to battle distance.

my heart breaks a little
considering that someday,
we'll be in different timezones.

my heart breaks a little,
but as i realize how blessed i am
to love someone like you,
my heart starts to break a little less.

my heart breaks a little.
my heart breaks a little less.
my heart will always yearn for you
and i'll certainly wait 'til i get to hold you again.
XIII Nov 2016
The sun and the moon
within different timezones
can never ever meet,
and so they wished
for an eclipse.
Climactic Poet Jul 2018
This is crazy.
Very. very. crazy.

I am here in front of a universe we created
you and I.
Nobody else.

I am soaking in this virtual reality
that knows no bounds
and respects no timezones.

I wake up everyday
looking forward to talk to you
and I sleep at night
seeing you in my dreams.
day dreamer Jan 2015
11:09 PM will never be the same

I imagine the space over the earth 
Where the sun, moon, and stars appear 

Gaze on the sky for me tonight
Think of me when you see the clouds

I lie awake on the other side of the world
Cursing timezones and different horizons

I wish I could hold you and tell you this
"Let me taste those lips before I even see the world"
dye Jun 2016
1: shallow beach

our little talks
have always been like
little waves,
secretly desperate for height,
something passionate surfers
will never learn to like;
and like a lonely muddy puddle,
desperate for depth,
hoping that someday
it'll swallow up all the boots
stomping on it.


2: gutter

our exchanges have
always been trippy as ****.
every word we say floats above our heads
and we would smirk as we watch them position themselves.
they form these neon swirls
that our pupils **** in for us
to share a nirvanic high.
as we see the post lights beat different colors,
our monochromatic mindscapes
dramatically turn into psychedelic voids.
on this elevated surface,
on this gutter,
on this place most people perceive
as a spit spot,
and on this cemetery
for cigarette corpses,
our chaotic souls
have found a dwelling place
and
our cluttered minds
realized its capacity
to be eloquent like a fluid pen,
to be sad yet tranquil like somber nights,
and to be embossed like keloid scars.


3: airplane

our
conversations
taste
exactly just
like the view
from a window seat
on a starry night flight.
our sentences never failed to leave
trails of cerulean glitters on our tongues
before they came out of our mouths.
but as we moved above
the dots of city lights,
we could only think of how
depressingly ephemeral
everything is.

4:  mind palace

our intertwined thoughts
built a helix bridge
connecting a place of infinite stairs
to an abandoned house of mirrors.
i can't forget when you told me once
that i was your favorite trespasser.
but to me, you're just one of those strangers
who tiptoed his way to get in
just so he could try to figure out
which mirror door led
to my most honest labyrinth.

5: rainforest

every time our letters fall like raindrops
and land as paragraphs on the dry earth,
the petrichor is sniffed by pine trees  
and as they happily sway,
they discover their capacities to dream.
they aspire to be the blank moldy papers
that only the two of us can fill.
they desperately want our words
tattooed on their skins.
our hands, their spine.
their home, our minds.

6: dance studio

we agreed that we were the world's
most horrible dancers
because we danced with our
two left brains,
not with our
two left feet.
i could only come by night,
and you could only come by day,
but our opposite timezones
never prohibited us to miss
this dazzling performance
only our minds can make.
sitting cross-legged together
in front of a wide mirror,
we see
two people
dancing
two different genres
but somehow magically
complementing each other

7: bedroom

we made our discussions
with our spontaneous feet.
each aimless step
summoned a plethora of paths
that we promised we'll take
i can't seem to forget
how happily  lost we were;
not because we are products of a consumer-obsessed era,
but because we are products of the realization that the Earth is made of unlimited wormholes that we can zap through to discover things.
i can't also seem to forget
how our days would end with our toes touching the
chipping paint on your wall
while we stare at the photographs we took by the sun;
while we listen to music as our souls spun.
it has been our personal routines to remind ourselves
that we are not slaves of superficiality.
but as what i feared...
we expired
just like the stardust we basked in.
we used to bleed dreams,
but now, what are we?
we have become two cogs left to tarnish
in some corporate machinery
06/06/16
"the conversations you have are as important as the lectures you go to."
Lilith Avenue Nov 2014
they say:
age is but a number,
distance is but a scale,
and time is of an essence -
yet i find their concept to be suffocating.
confining as it bends me to it's whims.

age is the number that decides who our friends are.
splitting us apart by birth dates into
elementary, middle, junior, high and college -
sending us away to embark on different paths
while others are left behind.

distance is the scale that determines how often.
when can our presences linger with one another
and at what lengths must we cross?
cities, state lines, rivers, countries, oceans -
at what point is the distance too wide to close.

time is the essence that destines if at all.
where schedules collide and overlap,
timezones over riding the possibilities.
seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months -
they all pass with one of us always a head of the other.

and as we move on with our lives, i see that
i use these as excuses of why we have drifted
instead of facing the facts;
perhaps we were never that close to begin with
as our memories turn to grey.
psyche May 2020
It's by walking out from your shadows
that made me cross the line towards
a peculiar timezone.

Now I'm a floating colorful rainbow
in here

while you're all shades
of greyish rains
from the past.
vanessa ann Mar 2018
perhaps i have only kronos to thank
for our timezones are close enough
for us to meet in dreamland
where the line
between dreams
and reality
bends
at least you're not lightyears away
photovoltaic Mar 2021
its cold outside and i can't sleep because of you
keep me addicted to my phone, lonely but not alone
its 2am for me, because of these **** timezones
letters against a bright screen, squint my eyes against the light
my eyes are burning, i think im slowly going blind
hopeful messages promising to one day meet up
slip that engagement ring onto your finger, a binding promise
to find you, see you, kiss you, hold you in my arms, in person


not knowing if the other is perfect

~risking ruining your perception of me

because here behind my screen you think i'm everything

~but im bound to disappoint you like i always do

i want to marry someone ive never met

~is this something i'm going to regret?
i started dating this boy online ive never met irl
and
idk how this is going to work out
but i want this to last... is this an impossible fantasy or no?
George Andres Apr 2018
Can I take a pleasure to tell you that you feel like a classic Ricky Lee novel? Like a book in the middle of the bookshelf, a contemporary cover with soft edges and pleasant scent. How I'd love to reread certain pages and write the awkward phrases. You feel like a contradiction of genres written in a parched paper. Like an invitation I wasn't allowed to partake, like a victory I wasn't allowed to celebrate.

It was a futile attempt to be brave for what seems to be dangerous. As the revered Chinese General, Sun Tzu says, "There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare." And thus here I was in the midst of joy and despair, of serotonin-filled crib around books and morning coffees.

I was a morning person and you were on the other side of horizon, dreamy and hopeful: a free-spirit composed of philosophical inquiries and fear all happening at the same time behind the wee hours of what seems to be our different timezones.

You were the most unpredictable poem I've ever written, smitten by what-nots and could have been and a pretty idea that cannot be grasp or taken a hold of. I was vanquished, not from the laid back smile or performative gestures; but from the moment I felt your soul, and like how an abyss stares back at the illusion of two lost pain-stricken entities ******* their fears of death by lacking.

The deities saw how you admired the position of the stars and blessed your heart with love so much that it turned to curse of overflowing mana. And everything served too much is always intoxicating: it would always feel good at the beginning, and that was where the chills are coming and from there where the warmth was consuming all of a sudden burning like forest fires; blazing like burned down public libraries of chapped and dog-eared pages turned and smearned and spite upon: and the question of how does a memory turn into ashes and hatred.

It was like trying to push a half-empty door which creaks and awaken everyone outside, alarming the house owner of an impending doom; of snatching a precious dime shining through the window, reflecting the harsh heat of the sun. I was the thief who was unmasked and decorated with bright and colorful façade, but I prayed, oh how I prayed for you. Exactly the same you, who wasn't too much and wasn't too less.

A lighthouse in the middle of the dessert, if that made sense, and though you were the guide, I cannot pass through you and while you were the light, I couldn't grasp through your rays to save me. The quicksand was like an ocean on my feet, grabbing my toes and tickling my knees until it comes to an abrupt stop unto my nose where I ******* breathe you in.

All I wished were the fireflies replacing the butterflies inside my chest; coming home to a familiar scent; all I wished was your embrace when I finally open my arms to the idea of love—and not fantasize every beginning and romanticize about the end. I wanted to lay my baggage down slowly and have someone look at me in my lips, clawing my longing with an abrupt kiss. I wish there was you, who would understand every fear I had: "I understand." Who wouldn't argue with how I see the constellations and what hue joy must be or which temperature I freeze to death. "How was your day?" A question never of monotony and despair but rather a whole new different perspective. It will always be as the same day I saw you, it will always be the same as I first talked to you, it will always be beautiful as long as you were near, as long as you were there.

However in the long run, I couldn't really tell of the things I might spoil and ruin. With that, I would always wonder about what it could have been.

That's what it is, if i could aptly describe it: Push and pulls.
4318PFE
The ageing old factory told a tale
Staff have plenty of stories to tell
Of a nasty ghost simply named William
A blackness in a supernatural shell
On the allotment near the river
His horse could be heard at night
Hoofs ride eerily along the grass
Audible in clarity but rarely seen by sight
Myself and a friend believe we saw him
Stood between the factory walls
We only noticed he had a transparent body
After he refused to answer our calls
He just lifted his arm and pointed
And it chilled us to the bones
That night is etched in my memory
When us and him crossed through timezones
The children painted a mural
On a building next to the bowling green
He was pointing like he did to us two
Its the most chilling thing I've ever seen
Big Virge Dec 2020
So The Song Is WELL KNOWN...
The One That Bob Wrote...

Where These Builders Refuse...
To Use Head Corner Stones...

They Now PREFER To Choose...
The Stones That They Can USE...
Like A Pair of Work Boots... !!!

But Bob’s Words Spoke TRUTH...
That Spoke of His YOUTH...
And How He Was REFUSED...
By His OWN FATHER... Who...

Was Quite Happy To Throw...
Away... His Corner Stone...!?!

But In This World That We Live...
There Are MANY Like Him... !!!

Who’ve Been QUICKLY DISMISSED... !!!
Because of Their SKIN...
By SADLY... Their Own Kin... ?

From... Michael Holding...
To These HATEFUL RACISTS... !!!

Corner Stones Have NOT Been...
What Have Been ACCEPTED... !!!

BELIEVE Me... This Is TRUE... !!!
From Those Who Make Tunes...
To Those Who Make Moves...
In BIG Business Boardrooms... !!!
To Those In Actors’ Shoes...

Corner Stones Are Refused...
If They WON’T Just ASSUME...
Positions For Missions...
That Lead To Submission...

Which Leads Me To Women...
And... Girls In This World...
Who Keep On Dismissing...
What They Should Be Licking... !!!

Because They’re NOT Thinking...
They’re Out There GOLD DIGGING... !!!

So CHOOSE To Be Linking...
With Heads Who Be Sinning...
When It Comes To *** Missions...  !!!

Cos’ They DON’T Seem To Know...
About... HEAD Corner Stones... ?!?

They Are Now QUICK To Throw...
Themselves Into Zones...
Where Dogs With Small Bones...
Can Slip Into Their Holes... !!!

That They Choose To Keep CLOSED... !!!
To BIG Head Corner Stones... ?!?
UNLESS They’ve Got DOUGH... !!!

You See The Point of This Piece...
Is To Show That It’s... MEANS...
Rather Than QUALITY...
As Well As SKIN TONES...
That PROVE How It Goes...
In This World That’s Now Broke... !!!

Because Head Corner Stones...
Who NOW Sit On THRONES...
... ALL OVER The Globe... !!!

Have Let... Corona Roll... ?!?
So Have Caused Deaths To Toll... !!!
That Have Imposed Controls...
And Tears To Now Flow...
In All Kinds of Timezones... !!!

That AGAIN Goes To Show...
That People Make CALLS...
But Are Still QUICK To VOTE...

For... Political DOPES... ?!?
And Dogs With NO Bones... !?!

And Todays Dumbed Down Clones...

Who KEEP SNIFFING That Coc’...
And Now... EVEN DRONES...

As Their... Head Corner Stones... ?

It’s Just CRAZY To See...
That In TWENTY TWENTY... !!!

That The Words of MARLEY...
Have Become PLAIN To See... !!!!

Because Now You CAN’T Tell... ?!?
Where Head Corner Stones Dwell... ?!?

Who Is... Woman Or Man... ?!?
Or If News Is Now FACT... !?!

And Whose Got The NEW HACK... !?!
But THESE HERE Words Are Fact... !!!

“ MANY Are CALLED...
But MOST Seem To Be BROKEN “...

And NO I’m NOT JOKING... !!!

The Quotient Is GROWING...
Who THINK They Are CHOSEN...
When They Are Just TOKENS...
With Potions Now BLOATING... !!!

How Worthy They Are...
To Be Where They Are... !!!
And Be Treated Like Stars...
Who’ve NEVER Seen MARS... ?!?

It’s All Become A FARCE...
This World That Imparts...

A Level of WOE... !!!
That Has Us In The Throes...

of A Game Filled With Thrones... !!!

Who Are TOO QUICK To THROW...

AWAY.....

... “Head Corner Stones”...
Inspired mainly, by the song, " Corner Stone ", by Bob Marley ......
A H J Apr 2018
I am me,
but he's full of colors splattered over a human-sized canvas
that I want him to paint me an Avant Garde
eventually we will make a mural of the sky from twilight to midnight,

but he's still far away, shining bright
only toned down slightly due to daylight.

I am me,
but he's an exclusive painting timezones away
and on my paper is without color but his
light inspired poetry.

— The End —