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I accepted the death
I just need the scent
of the things you left
the end is nothing,
I don't care about it
what I can't handle
is a hope;
with an insane,
exhausted tremor
I slam the door
beyond which there's nothing more
than the dust over the things you left;
tell me it's all over,
that I can rest,
cover my eyes
and close the door.
avoiding everything of the person you're mourning
Rose 4d
This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
A father's love I have never known,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

I'm like a child, with tears being spilled,
Crying for that bond, that love of my own,
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

The promise of protection, never unfulfilled,
Someone to remind me I'll never be alone,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

What if he was here, had never been killed?
Would he speak with a loving tone?
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

To be wrapped in his arms is my will,
This hope hurts my heart, my every bone.
This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled
I wish I had my dad
Jamesb 6d
In many poems,
Indeed mine own,
Relationships are defined
As two vessels sailing
In close company,
Plotting the same course
By choice and happiness
Choosing to stay close by,

But in truth a relationship
IS a ship,
A single hull with
Two crew to sail it,
Working together
To maintain the five essentials,
A level hull, with sails and foils well set,
And direction agreed,

Who holds the helm,
The tiller and extension,
That person controls
The direction of travel,
And that has been you,
When you sailed us into danger
My hand was there to guide
Us back from hazard,

Now I am steering
And the course is arrow straight
In lieu of help
Or kind suggestion,
A crew entirely focussed not
Upon the vessel but themself,
And no gentle hand to
Re direct our boat

Nor kind word
Or still small voice of calm
To calm the storm for more
Than a minute,
And that is a shame,
It takes two to tango
Only one to sail a boat,
But it is better by far

With another
My Nan taught me a lot-
but two lessons/phrases were uttered the most.
“Don’t trust men, they only want one thing.”
Problem solved Nanny, I’m as gay as they come
and never gave one man that one thing.

The other thing she’d often tell me was
“We get two gifts in this world; people we love
and sleep to save us from missing them when they’re gone.”
The second lesson I think of often and relate to heavily.
Both were true for my Nan;
she deserved a better life.
Would’ve been Nan’s 85th birthday last week-
If there’s something after all of this I hope she celebrated
with Ma, Uncle Jim, Louise, Dad, Pop, Stevie and Bev.
Love and miss you Nanny.
Valentine Aug 23
endlessly she looks on
lashes never flinching
no lids weighed by metal
to blink as you rock her
imaginary tears to fall

a little box freshly made
smells of melted plastic
made by wrinkled hands
with eyes shut tight
droplets soiling the exterior

the night her wisp of a candle
dimmed and turned to smoke
i held her in my arms
knowing she couldn't hear me
yet still sang that lullaby
the one that played each time
you pulled the string attached
to her back

and when i peaked down at
the window of her entrapment
my weepy eyes reflected on
her cracked porcelain skin
i imagined her mint condition
just like the day
i brought her home
neth jones Sep 1
i watched a movie today                                            
        and it made me think a lot about houses
what a threat they are to us                                       
                        how they tighten in on our fears
  and contain ***** hobbies
slyly       
    adjust our moods and personalities                             
                  tuning us to match their wallpaper
  their architecture  angling our minds                         
they make us fierce tail tiger chasing captives
presence extends                                                          
                      and we are for always on a leash of expenses                    
            leased out to the world   only for toil                                   

                 houses shelter us from the elements
so that we may lament                                              
                                          and carry our damage
like mourning  through generations                        
                             and fill them with rewarding
     gummy treats                                                                   

                                            what ugliness is made  
         without the weather to worry it all away
...anyway.. that's how i felt                                               
                             after i watched a movie today
I smelt their blood like
A cloud of ash in the air;
Dreadfully trying to hide their faces
With a pale mask- a thinly made veil,
To urgently curtain over their enigmas

Still, I could see straight through them all;
And the sight of them charred my eyes,
Leaving my mind in an ashtray-
As by tiny little spurs; a question
Of passion was ignited:

If I could ever be a voice to these people-
A people who themselves were so lost
My words to them are yet to be found;

Oh, how to find that which is lost…
Is to understand the pain parallel to such
A terrible grief in itself…
I must lose something myself.
Sythin Voxe Jun 28
It’s in the rain,
It’s in the sunshine,
It’s in the dewdrops on the roof.

It’s in the tall grass
When the wind blows
That’s all I need as proof.

It’s in the clouds above,
The ground below,
The red of leaves,
The white of snow,
The violent ocean,
The mellow stream,
It’s in everything it seems.

Your eyes

Your face

In every place.
I miss you so much constantly.
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