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In a book I opened
on page twenty three
I came upon a pressed flower and
wondered,
was it for me?

The book was printed, eighteen ninety five
I guess
the flower was alive back then and
so
it wasn't for me.

I wonder who placed it
between pages twenty three and four and
why did they put it there?
who was it for?

Sad,
looking upon the dead rose
thinking about those,
and did the book close on them,
did the rose
speak of love
back then?
 Nov 2014 xxc
Pax

let go of insecurities and judgment upon self,
embrace acceptance.



© Pax
sometimes insecurites blinds us, and being too critical to self, we often forget to love the blessing we already have,
try to lessen it day by day, until nothing is left to ponder and as you'll see clearly the love and acceptance you are looking for because that is what i do, i still have some issues upon self and upon realizing this, i am learning to love myself a little more than i never did.

or i guess if perhaps its always there(insecurities ), then atleast you'll learn how to manage it  day by day to stay away and stay clear to the path to loving oneself.
 Nov 2014 xxc
Old Soul
Golden sun kissed skin
With a pair of ocean blue eyes
Plum colored lips
Perfect hourglass shape

But she hates herself
Covered in bruises
Mascara running down her face
Cracked and scared

Not just the outside
But on the inside too
The body she sees now
Was never her own

Lies hidden behind brown eyes
A boy as twisted as her
Beaten and tormented
Always living in the past

Together they're tragic
A combination for disaster
With her malevolence
And his sensitivity

But he's put a spell on her
Unable to control herself
She means no harm
But there'll be no happy ending

And he'll fall in love
With the girl who fixed him
Just to have his heart ripped out again
No longer wanting to live

And she'll go crazy
This has happened before
Life's repeating itself
When will it end
 Nov 2014 xxc
ahmo
Identify.
 Nov 2014 xxc
ahmo
In the end,
Who tells me who I am?
he tells me that it's him,
and she tells me that it's her.
And this entitlement is surely not universal.

We must decide ourselves.
Horrifically.
But how can I possibly be blind to all of this noise?
When the streets are filled with final blueprints
Of how my life will play out?

For all of us
The words placed upon us slither around our arteries
And up to our brains.
They insert venom into the soul gleefully.
And the poison is ubiquitous.
It's terribly malicious.
Because we must decide.
Who speaks fact
and who fiction.

In the end,
I must decide who I am.
I must dig into my heart with a rusty shovel and push.
My only wish
is that I don't hate what emerges from this abyss.
 Nov 2014 xxc
Mrs Ashley Somebody
Your love is algebra
I can't find the formula
If I could find the right calculator,
I could define your euphoria.

Your love is geometry
I can't find the angles
If I could prove your theories,
It wouldn't be a shambles.

Your love is trigonometry
I can't figure it out
If I spent an entire notebook, perhaps
I'd still have doubts.

Your love is a mystery
Just as the greatest math
Although worth much,
Seems irrelevant to my path.
Yet you never understand how
beautiful you are.
 Sep 2013 xxc
Brendan F X Leonard
We were both running
But when we were together
It didn't feel like running at all

Your lips
Stained mine
With a taste
Both bitter
And beautiful
That I can't kiss away

After you
I could understand
Why the poets share their words
Why music can bring me to tears
Why I wake up hopeful

In the deepest silence
My heart started to beat to new
Music
Music composed by the love you gave me

I am forever in those moments
We shared

I loved you
I thank you
 Sep 2013 xxc
carmen
I feel like a mammoth sometimes
stomping and clomping and trying to find
Where all the other mammoths went.
 Sep 2013 xxc
Danielle Marie
Absolute bliss.
The forest around me made me feel the most peaceful I had in years.
The tall Redwoods reached up to the sky for a kiss, the bright, green moss climbed up the huge roots.
Everything seemed to be paused.
Like the world had stopped, as if everything had froze and stood still in this moment of pure beauty.
The mist the only thing that seemed to be moving, like a heavy blanket hovering over the ground.
My breath came out in puffs of condensation, the product of the invigorating chill of the morning.
The sun just barely poked its arms through the gray and sent the dew glittering all over.
            
This was the most breathtaking thing I'd ever experienced.
To feel so small among so many great things harboring beauty.
I felt as if I could sit on this damp ground forever.
My mind went completely blank here, my thoughts soared up to the sky riding along with the trunks of the trees.
I'd never felt more free.
             I layed my head down on the grass and let my body go limp.
I felt safe as if nothing could ever touch me.
Until something did, little raindrops fell upon my nose and slid down the side of my face.
I opened my mouth and let the rain touch my tongue, it tasted pure and good.
My hair grew damp along with my clothes, but I wasn't cold.
I was absolutely content.
I slowly sat up and listened to the rain pour over my little heaven.
It was the most precious melody.
The air around me was heavy, and everything seemed to be lit in shades of violet. I breathed it in, took it in.

          I suddenly became afraid.
Aware that I would have to leave this place soon.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I felt weak, and helpless.
I didn't want to return to the outside world.
For I felt those moments, in this small opening , in a vast and shrouded forest, have changed a part of me.
Or more-so, awakened a part.
A part I never knew existed.
          For the first time in what felt like ages..
I felt alive.
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