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it's _ not _ the
worst\thing
this.
beinginlovewithyou
when i stop <to <re <collect
the empt [i] ness
i would otherwise know;
you know ~ i've tried
#others
no | one | fusses |
with ^my^ bangs^
presses>their>shoulder>into>me{lting}
wears those [mydeargod]
thigh - high - BooTs
<like you>
myhands @ yourhips
you trace ~my ~veins
i _ steal _ every kiss
& pray ' for ' time ' to '
stall. there.
just. a.
mo...   men. t.
     *more
walking along i
look up at the moon
it's only a silver sliver
an end to summer
&so.;        i thought of
you;
the tiny pieces
left ^inside ^of ^me
always
[in all ways]
just _ under _ my _ skin
not really a pain
mostly//likely
an ache
nestledthere
behind
my ribs
along with the 》 long.   ing
burrowed
withinthemarrow
of each
bone
Four handsome angels,
Their wings like melting silver,
Fall from heaven,
Like statues toppling down.

Their porcelain faces,
Their thunderbolt eyes,
All dolls thrown down
With swords in hand.

And heads poised upward,
Down, down and down,
Like gentle beaming stars
Bleeding down through the sky.

Their hair is fire,
And their screams are hymns,
And slain they were
With their eyes to heaven.

And god, the father,
Said: "Thus always to traitors"
And scorn filled them
Like a thorn in the heart.

Four handsome angels,
Whose backs were turned,
Grinned like children
To the solid ground.

And how long the fall,
And how hard the ground,
But blessed four angels grin,
When the earth opened
And swallowed them whole.

Their hair was fire,
And their screams were hymns,
And slain they were
With their eyes to heaven.
I write to the poems we said and liked. The moments we shared and cherished. The nights and days, the constant staying in-touch.

This I write to the wait, anticipation, horror of not finding you again.

This I write to the pain of distances.

I am writing to the places we couldn’t visit, words we couldn’t utter ever. There is no tomorrow for us because we wasted while we had it. We had everything but perhaps we never found it worth fighting for.

In the name of lies and fooling. This I write not to the barren years but to the long moments between each minute. To the burden of the reality, to the burden of our fantasies.

I write to put a full stop. I write to mark “The End” which I kept hoping won’t come. I write to restart.
Staggering explosions of venom-laden light
In a world of darkness constructed by man
Debauched genius and greed tainted sight
In second blinding rays of silver filled the skies

Trillions of once living humans lay dead
Empty warm footprints were life once led
Gray piles of ash on radiation kissed the ground
The species ended
Beating hearts unbound

It was not the first bombed dropped
Nor the cause of their fall
Or the second
That followed
When Azrael began to call
The third
The Destroyer
slowly seeping life
The fourth
Spreading it fiendish tentacles
Created from evil and lies
The fifth
Came in waves of poison rippled sound
The sixth
Was death cold sister come to hover round

But came the seventh
In clap of thunder
None now left to worship
In awe and wonder
The seal had been opened
The convent broken between God and man  
The punishment foretold
Revealed in the blood of the lamb

@Tammy M. Darby September 3, 2016. All poems are stored in author base
Stop it, get it together
Don't, don't pluck more feathers
Work, mould, hold yourself now
Cause he's shaping his whole world,
Without you and how.

You're worth a billion symphonies & more
So grip your dignity and shut that door
If that's the love you think you never had
Cry out to the universe and it'll tell you,
You're utterly mad.
It's like a sick twisted game you two love playing.
After a perpetual 24 hours of worrying and over thinking,
the next 24 hours are spent plunging into the depths of dark waters.
I can't escape.
It's like tug of war
and my rope is fraying.
One day I'm on the edge clinging for life
and the next I'm giving in to the idea of death.
Where did you go? And who are you now?
When I stare in the mirror, it seems upside down.
Am I someone that settled or someone that took? Advantage always seems out of reach. Why do we think, "it won't happen to me".
Are the stars we aim for so far away?
That we can't simply ask them to align
Where did you go? And who are you now?
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