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"untwine" poems
I’m left with no one to talk to, with none to ever share Only my blackened heart to feel, the crouching, gray despair I want to shout, to scream for help, but I don’t have a voice My soul is left in darkest void without a single choice The shadows whisper at my name, they want to get along They sing for me, and cry for me a very woeful song But I don’t care, I never heed I know it’s now too late To fix my very crippled life And untwine my twined fate It’s gone now, I failed all of it I left it, I did shun Leaving it to rot and to die And wither cold and wan…
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
Hopelessness
I gave you my heart. In return you broke my heart. I handed it to you as a delicate flower. You ran it over like a car going one hundred miles per hour. I gave you everything. Even my trust. But you threw it all away for a thing called lust. I believed every word you said to me. Turns out it was just a lie you see. I gave you a part of my life. I wanted to be your wife. Instead you just killed me everyday. By all the harsh words you had to say. All I want to do is pull out my aching heart And tear it all apart. Maybe then I could stop loving you. I want to cry but I don't have any tears left. I want to scream but I have no voice. My body is numb. This wasn't my choice. I want to sleep But you keep haunting me in my dreams. I feel like I am trapped inside your scheme. The way you look at me Just makes me melt. The way you say my name Sometimes makes me forget about your little game. The sound of your voice sends shivers down my spine. Now I need some time to untwine. I loved you so much but you didn't care enough. How can I forget you? Like you forgot about me? How can I move on? I am still in love with you Juan. I want to break away from you. I want to be free from you. I just have to close my eyes And wait until the pain dies.
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
I Gave You My Heart
I’m not one for writing about things that are useful Things that can shape the world Things that can help someone get on by. I’m not one for writing about things that are relevant Because whenever I write You seem to have that presence. That kind of presence that tends to etch itself on to the letters written That kind of presence that tends to draw itself on to paper whenever given And I hate it. Hate it because your existence is all I’ll ever think about Whether I’m busy attending to my own needs Alone with too many words screaming in my head Or anywhere in between Hate it because you are the only one that seems to make it right That seems to quell the angriest of storms That seems to bring out the sun when the clouds hide it away That seems to continuously extend even when I’ve given up reaching Hate it because I never loved the idea of love You’d think with all the love poems I’ve written About how lovely it would be to wake up to your horizon About how lovely it would be to walk upon sandy material with sea breeze all around About how lovely it would be with our fingers intertwined Because we both know yours fits right in between mine About how lovely it would be with just you and me That I would somehow love being in love That my heart grows fonder with every moment spent But I don’t Its reckless Its Foolish For even the wisest of people grew without a heart. Because they knew in order to live without pain They would wish the bonds untwine For they do not want a “yours” and “mine” Yet somehow in the midst of being a cold-hearted ***** You found a way to stay and not ditch. I’m too afraid to admit how deeply in love I am Because I’m too afraid of losing something I had no idea I had So please, Let me let you know, That I’m not one to write about things that can throw a life line About things that can get you to say “You’re mine.” About things that can be of relevance at this time I’m more about writing about how much of a useless romantic I’ve come to find
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
I'm Nothing But a Useless Romantic
I’m not one for writing about things that are useful Things that can shape the world Things that can help someone get on by. I’m not one for writing about things that are relevant Because whenever I write You seem to have that presence. That kind of presence that tends to etch itself on to the letters written That kind of presence that tends to draw itself on to paper whenever given And I hate it. Hate it because your existence is all I’ll ever think about Whether I’m busy attending to my own needs Alone with too many words screaming in my head Or anywhere in between Hate it because you are the only one that seems to make it right That seems to quell the angriest of storms That seems to bring out the sun when the clouds hide it away That seems to continuously extend even when I’ve given up reaching Hate it because I never loved the idea of love You’d think with all the love poems I’ve written About how lovely it would be to wake up to your horizon About how lovely it would be to walk upon sandy material with sea breeze all around About how lovely it would be with our fingers intertwined Because we both know yours fits right in between mine About how lovely it would be with just you and me That I would somehow love being in love That my heart grows fonder with every moment spent But I don’t Its reckless Its Foolish For even the wisest of people grew without a heart. Because they knew in order to live without pain They would wish the bonds untwine For they do not want a “yours” and “mine” Yet somehow in the midst of being a cold-hearted ***** You found a way to stay and not ditch. I’m too afraid to admit how deeply in love I am Because I’m too afraid of losing something I had no idea I had So please, Let me let you know, That I’m not one to write about things that can throw a life line About things that can get you to say “You’re mine.” About things that can be of relevance at this time I’m more about writing about how much of a useless romantic I’ve come to find
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43
Twenty-three and coming from my teens I’ve developed along already categorized genes, By those who think they know me, When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious, Taught the importance of individuality, Yet forced to be obedient Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription, An addiction they picked up in a higher institution I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence, Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes Notions that you could promise me providence, I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end, Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received, You taught the importance of obedience Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence, When this place has been passed along bloodlines, When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes, And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe, While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade, A middle passage that led to a devious democracy I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began, I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins, Though before we build our shrines of this age, You can still pray for something beyond the grave, Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray, To humanize a species that earth derived, Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,   During our generations' stay.
0
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
Domesticate Me
Twenty-three and coming from my teens I’ve developed along already categorized genes, By those who think they know me, When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious, Taught the importance of individuality, Yet forced to be obedient Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription, An addiction they picked up in a higher institution I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence, Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes Notions that you could promise me providence, I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end, Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received, You taught the importance of obedience Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence, When this place has been passed along bloodlines, When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes, And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe, While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade, A middle passage that led to a devious democracy I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began, I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins, Though before we build our shrines of this age, You can still pray for something beyond the grave, Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray, To humanize a species that earth derived, Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,   During our generations' stay.
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34
Frayed after many rains the knotted rope struggles to hold its own like a wilted fern before the first frost subdued but predictable veined designs trace the cloned leaves drawing the complicated rails of Manhattan’s underground Hugging closely woven for warmth dried leaves untwine. Released. Driven by a light breeze like tendrils sun kissed on a May vine Curled up at setting of the sun Mortared avocado green The fern resilient but serene
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May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
Survivor
I work with knots, loosen ends from ends, careful not to snag or break fragile cords, intricate tangles of silken affairs. But the ends unravel as I release tension, and I find myself knotting the ends again. Over and over, I bind and unbind, until the cycle lashes out like a madwoman in desperate straits. I want to write the wrongs, right them, straighten them into one long, lengthy rope, then try my luck again. Find strands that won't untwine; create the perfect notaffair.
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Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
Knots
You always find a way back. You're light as a feather and your touch is barely noticeable, but then I feel every thread untwine, I feel it drape over me like the heaviest curtain in the world. I'm stuck and I can't breathe. I can't lift this curtain off of me. I can't move and I don't want to move. I used to fly with the birds - I used to be light as a feather. but now there's rain plummeting from the sky and drenching me, making me heavy as a curtain. You always find a way back.
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Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
light as a feather / stiff as a board
It must hurt To finally know, What i contained. -All the time that i thought you'll comprehend.- You ask for forgiveness from the paleness that you've caused and ofcourse you wouldn't know as we were paused. We're in flames of carmine, Watching our souls untwine. And a woeful combat Between both Of our demons, Detached. It must surely trigger, Realising: the damages get bigger. and I was a beautiful cave for which you were allowed to pave in, your own path. You dab, An amount of prestige Onto your personality. Splashing all the, Insignificance over my Unattended morality. I've taken too, Too much of heart; Too much of soul. As i give up blood, I'm musing over you (Maybe) a last time. I must alter my actions, And turn them to you. now that we're done I let you live as a slave cause the ashes that are deep buried, the flames that burn with screams often unheard may seem to be easily blown off but it won't it's wrath. Lastly here i am, Reconciling my words to you; Putting them together In and out of place. The last breath i take (in your name): Your honor, i rest my case.
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May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC
Death of love.
Gulls, gannets brooding vying for plankton Acrobatic flights, flappings Swarm the blue Chirping, tweeting another To lave the silvery sea. Impishly unclad moppets Running and frolicking, Some helping their Fishermen father untwine nets The evening venture their chaste aim. Over the horizon Is the Yellow Face Lustring like a Gigantique Bohemian Chandelier Lapping on the repose waters. Someday when am ripe and mellow With means to own a crew I will sail up that mulky horizon And touch that glowing cosmic disc. But mater says "The horizon doesn't end" "It goes in league miles" "Even when a yore mile is sailed" "It's unattainable, puerile and trifling" She'd opine. Only these chiding words of hers I never take for a dime, I will engage in my venture I will stand to be corrected. This is my only demure dream I will endeavour and suckle her I wouldn't want an elegiac ending In this beach I've known for eon.
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Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
The Dreamer
Standing, in the fading sun beneath the early stars and the yellow lamps that light one by one. Geese bear witness As they waddle past on Tiny orange feet, As our hearts untwine Under the Misty blue sky. Your supple mouth Pinches tightly shut As you lower your eyes To the ground. Lifting the lace high up Over your head you Go off to be a bride.
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Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Bride
Oh darling. Oh darling! Help knot this noose. Spill out the contractors spindled spew. My leash is as tethered as my thoughts. Kick the stool angled foot Remove tension, don't slack. I've decided I just don't want to keep my thoughts inside. They aren't always sane, but have tendencies to seek the "in." My departure welcomes the cold and bitter. As the winter. To which the tree holds the sight of. Chlorophyll picked away from leaves to fulfill a coming life. I will restore the color back in the splintered rings held inside. This withered branch; my neck. Ready to untwine From burdening weight balanced on my spine. SNAP! Fingers snap to my fall. 4 counts per measure Each conducted with quietus posture. A contortionist to the meaning of nurture. Oh you Oh darling Oh me, oh my. Hanging from this tree oh why says I. Do I have to die? Oh right, NO! Wrong let's lie in light. That tree giving color, given hope. Painted again by my deaths brush stroke. What I thought would be so warm and welcoming... Is only what I had before... Nothing.
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
I'm Seeking the "In."
These two paths Both mostly lit by other's lanterns. Echoing with hisses of different answers. Heart battle loyalty Where do I truly lie? Which hand do I untwine? Clock ticks, licks lips, sparing for solid words. I sit and ponder with my own lantern: dim and rusted. Staring into the flame I see the glisten. Ahead the path, these light coming back. What am I to do? What do I say? This is the end oh dear loved one. I have chosen hand over name.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Lantern's Sight.
Perhaps you divined everything, each word, is musically inserted in the bonds tween us Them those poems that untie with shoelace knots so quick reveling, seeing her bare back, is but a bridge over waters that demands crossing, for a mid-way joining When the night is dark, trembling, each, we stand by each other, tumble & fall where we stand Anyone can see, our unique trinity, the admixture of she-me-us, as we untwine rolling downwards on a staircase to Heaven, Nothing makes me wonder   more; she is east, smoothie~polished,   me rough hewn from cacti   and dusty dirt, the only thing   polished is the tune, sung to her,   much practiced, strummed upon   her cheeks, hummed into her soul If I had a box of wishes,   they would each be a   song that we sing, that    made angels cry
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Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 9:19 AM UTC
Songs for this:
How clever must I be First I must untwine The heart from the mind Then I will speak plainly And not in rhyme You won’t know what There won’t be a sign It will only be a feeling You’ll be happy this time I don’t need toys anymore Not if they cost money That’s not important to me Not like it was before I can only see what is free The way I think of you Easing the pain you see If I could make you notice The sand cannot be the sea She tried to ignore me But maybe not That’s what desire thought I imagine what I can’t see It’s not what can be bought Not what had cause to weep What life finally taught Was how alone fear can be If my heart says it cannot
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Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
Sand Always Waits
A positive mind, made to shine & untwine the fine lines of what it means to not be blind. I have a positive mind. I keep my spirits high because they watch hoping to make me cry I don't fight the pain inside I absorb in, and let it ride. I have a positive mind. I know right from wrong but I make my mistakes. I take the stake & strike the demons heart to unleash my true fate. I am an angel, a child of God. With much to learn but nothing to hide. I have a positive mind. I know life gives me trails and tribulations But I am smart enough to know this is not my final destination, True formation. I have a positive mind. To shine & untwine the fine lines of what it means to not be blind. I have a positive mind.
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Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 7:00 AM UTC
Positive thinking
*Trapped by the Devils touch Blinded in all the lights, Surrounded in all these lies, I think the Devils calling me Good bye... Aim for not the visions but the real parts of me Aiming for what is real and not distorting me Blank pages, Wrapped around my unmade mind what kind of world do I live Where I Should be able to untwine my mind past the Devils lies Because he didn't enclose me for centuries, stand me alone in this cold cell not knowing my own path, was going be hell Stuck in denial that my own spirit was gonna to be taken For My family, Their going to be left vacant The Devil was going to leave me to be unfound Leaving my missing body naked*
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Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Devils Lies
Those words, grow suddenly like thorn weeds. Without warning, they spread wide. Reaching and choking, reality to death. It's a chemical reaction, like chlorophyll to plants. Blinded by vines, that are fed by her light. Thorns of memories, dig deep until you bleed happiness. It's perfectly overgrown, 10 years of blissful growth. How enchanting, to wither with you. Sow our seeds, and live. We’ve suffered, intimate drought, periods of stunted growth, dark days with no light. We began to untwine, then climb to seek a different light. That day was our garden calamity, You no longer fed me your light, Or Nourished my roots. You uprooted, you...left...me.
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Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
A garden calamity
And there she sat in silence embedded with folds of loneliness amidst terrible despair and ear shattering silence in a hope that somebody would come who could possibly untwine those folds replacing the cold with his warmth
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Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC
She hopes
Two souls entwined, lost in words, lost in time. Time lost, through two souls, as words are lost, as souls untwine.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Two Souls
we all know it. we all have differing amounts of it. we’re all doing the same cha cha cha! we’re walkin through a waterfall, and we all at grab the same things on the other side we reach for each other and hold our arms up like victors as our horses bleed the horses being wednesday and saturday they are the times we have left of our beds needing many more hours with our loved ones and knowing that the street is not as us yet, unable to stop moving we get one snap in the eye of it all to say it all- and hell maybe that helps maybe the heaped stimulus of work has it’s time now to give us that hammer we need to know that our lives are numbered by irriversible clocks that untwine in the furtherness of how we will be so for now we are given an untidy space, with a number to say what we mean before we’re driven away.
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
¥$£
Take my hand step in time I am sure it'll turn out fine just let the current untwine your mind Every single step takes you closer and closer With every single breath, you find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Enimes and friends With out the evil intent I guess the stars aligned And all we say are we are all the same, in the end Someone spots you A jesture or smile Its been a while, why not smile back? Some peice of mind might finally come through I think we both need a bit of good Trust me, i know the game we're playing A razor quite thin, the head of a pin But balancing comes as second nature Tomorrow we'll still have our chance to win The lights light faces and faces light Everyone is one tonight Crack a smile its been a while we've got the might Not to mention will to take something and dispite hatred bleeding though manage ourselves a lovely night The colors of the glass Surrounding little suns Stain our hearts bright shades We need to let the pain Wash away The irony is lost on me But thats just the way i like it ignorance is dangerous but i think you should try it Hatred fuels this night But thats alright by me I dont think ive ever felt so completely free Venom drips from every cobble on every corner of every street But i think you can do us both a favor And turn your head as our hearts beat Intermingled with the rythm Love and trust the ones you meet Just for the night Its all alright
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Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
Parade 1/4
CORTÉS             Trailblazing pioneers, God’s harbingers:             The shining daylight of the Renaissance             Now swiftly dissipates the blindfold gloom             Of this benighted, dark, and iron age.             And as this dawn of culture greets the globe,             Our own Castile, of all the hosts of Europe,             Emerges as its greatest modern power.             If we receive the bounty of these lands,             So must we bear our duty to convert,             And shall redeem these hell-bound debutantes.             Coincidence?- That as the graceless Moors             Were drubbed and shunted from our Christian sands,             And in the very year our spiring cross             Eclipsed that toenail paring of a moon-             That new horizons opened in the west?             Do you not feel, my fresh adventurers,             That you are precious to the Lord, and chosen?             Strike sail!                                                          Exit.                ALVARADO                  You heard the captain. Up and at ‘em.             You porters, lash the tents to tame these winds.             The horsemen will untwine the provender.             Exit Garrido. SANDOVAL             The women must find tinder, turf, and fuel.             The sun is down. We race against the dusk.           Exit María. ESCUDERO             These heavy, gathering clouds have opened up,             And threaten to bestow unwanted gifts. DÍAZ             It is the cyclone season out at sea. SANDOVAL             Such scuddy weather bodes a sudden turn. ALVARADO             Let’s hustle then to fumble up a camp,             And save our “oo-” and “ahh”ing for the dawn.                                                                                       Exit all but Olmedo. OLMEDO             Thus shall the ardent lights of Europe come,             And pour upon these newfound neophytes.             But will they be enlightening Catholic lamps,             Or a consuming fire to destroy them?                     Exit.
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Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC
The Floral War 1:3:32-63
CORTÉS             Trailblazing pioneers, God’s harbingers:             The shining daylight of the Renaissance             Now swiftly dissipates the blindfold gloom             Of this benighted, dark, and iron age.             And as this dawn of culture greets the globe,             Our own Castile, of all the hosts of Europe,             Emerges as its greatest modern power.             If we receive the bounty of these lands,             So must we bear our duty to convert,             And shall redeem these hell-bound debutantes.             Coincidence?- That as the graceless Moors             Were drubbed and shunted from our Christian sands,             And in the very year our spiring cross             Eclipsed that toenail paring of a moon-             That new horizons opened in the west?             Do you not feel, my fresh adventurers,             That you are precious to the Lord, and chosen?             Strike sail!                                                          Exit.                ALVARADO                  You heard the captain. Up and at ‘em.             You porters, lash the tents to tame these winds.             The horsemen will untwine the provender.             Exit Garrido. SANDOVAL             The women must find tinder, turf, and fuel.             The sun is down. We race against the dusk.           Exit María. ESCUDERO             These heavy, gathering clouds have opened up,             And threaten to bestow unwanted gifts. DÍAZ             It is the cyclone season out at sea. SANDOVAL             Such scuddy weather bodes a sudden turn. ALVARADO             Let’s hustle then to fumble up a camp,             And save our “oo-” and “ahh”ing for the dawn.                                                                                       Exit all but Olmedo. OLMEDO             Thus shall the ardent lights of Europe come,             And pour upon these newfound neophytes.             But will they be enlightening Catholic lamps,             Or a consuming fire to destroy them?                     Exit.
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41
He worked quite precariously Plucking, unthreading, tearing Until the sheer glimmer dimmed The needle bobbed with rhythm As he'd untwine multitudinous threads And mercilessly string them along Patterns so intricate yet so flawed The carnal ambivalence stitched In the lush red silk Yet tailor beware As your patterns removed the seams Of a work so beautiful That you left remorselessly In tatters.
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Regrets
As I lay silently onto this room – A dulcet wistful moment comes to mind, Over a love I can’t depart behind. ‘Twas a spot where it used to be my home, Those old priceless times where I always roam. A glimpse of your face so beauteous and kind, Love unequaled and never will I find. I evoke those restless nights in my room, And to think of your fairness endlessly. No matter how the years elapsed and untwine, Still, I reminisced and loved your beauty. Just your name! My heart reacts in a bind! This poem’s made to refresh your memory, To ease the solitude, and unwind.
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Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
Sonnet 16