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#writerscreed
i love you and you don’t love me the same
so i tried to hate you,
then i tried to unlove you, 
then i tried to move on from you
but fuck, fuck, it is so hard
and so i’ve decided to just love you
it is not like i stopped living my life for you
it took me long time to realize
but i now know that i can be in love you and still be okay by being
‘a close friend’
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I turn down other offers
As I sit here and wait for you to come back
The moon is full and bright this hallowed night
I should be shining alongside her
But I’m full of this darkness
This Vantablack soot which masks my persona
You were the only person who saw past the grime
And you told me you liked me for what was in my heart
When I didn’t even think that I had one
But I’m alone now, spending my days reminiscing
Sneering at gifts of bouquets of roses
I don’t need them if my soul is in bloom
I can’t let go of you
I can’t let go of you
I can’t let go of you

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Let’s go to the Cappuccino Coast

Where the ocean gets churned and frothy,

To the cliffs of Mexico plains of Africa,

Let’s build a fjord of the Tigris and Euphrates

To find the real Eden.


Let us float through villages of boats

Have our eyes struck dumb by the Himalayas 

And their persistence in sky climbing,

Grab our shovels and find chariot wheels

At the bottom of dried up sea beds.


We can travel the earth with our tongues

Taste every nation’s bread

Lets resurrect ancient dialects

That were stolen and now are dead.


We can face and defeat all sharks and spiders

Just to prove we’ve mastered fear,

But after let us just come right back here.


To the creaky steps and torn up carpet,

The windows that need mending

And laundry never ending.


Let’s do it all and see everything

Just to know in our heads 

What our hearts already clutch

That waking up next to you

Is the real adventure

The truest bliss I’ve known

Is the shiver from your touch.


- Vagabond Prophet

@inky-child

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Tu me manques

It means “I miss you”,

but directly translated it says:

“You are missing from me.”

That’s why I like it.

It’s a more accurate description of what I feel.

It’s not just that I feel bad because you are not around,

you are a part of me that is MISSING,

temporarily LOST,

not there, even though

it’s SUPPOSED to be.


This goes out to people,

whose names start with H, C, L, S, M, V and A,

who once kept a tight grip on my heart but,

for some reason or another,

let go.

You are missing from me.


But primarily,

it goes out to the friends I have now.

Who aren’t here with me right now.

They can’t, because I’m in another country.

This should be ok,

but it isn’t.

I should be ok

but unfortunately,

loneliness doesn’t care much about convenience.

And I wonder if it really is their absence from me that upsets me

or my absence from them.

~ Zora Lewiz

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Picture books

A wish

the flash of starlight

The velveteen lived

our soft hearts cried

Six came and went

under the surface

pool water

And she ran

the others came

with questions

And you stumbled

to hold the balance

between right

       & together

But the rabbit lived

for it was good

and everything seemed possible

then.

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sometimes i wonder if you think about me at all.

and how we’re so damn disconnected

when we were once close enough to fall

in things like music, mornings, silence, sadness

in things like trust

in things like coffee, cubans, movies, magic

in things like love.

and i wonder, maybe, if i ever cross your mind

or if the things i felt were just me trying to fill the time

and i wonder if you know me, the me i am today

or if you know a different girl. the one who got away.

sometimes i find him in the dark, a land that exists only in my head

a fantasy made up behind eyelids & underneath bedspreads

the boy i saw

the boy i trusted

the boy i really thought i knew.

i’m not sure who he is

but he looks a lot like you.

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You never took a part of me when you left


You just shut off the light when you walked out the door


Leaving me alone in the dark


Unable to see what I do have 


- Randi Gina-Marie

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I’ve been trying to come up with ways to describe mans heart and all my thoughts lead me back to you - your heart. I wonder if spiritual connection is anything more than some mythical tale we are led to believe in. I wonder if the connection i feel with you is anything but real. Your heart was soft and pure yet the disappointments of this life has turned it to textures that feel like stone. Stone that I patiently carve out day by day, waiting for the moment I can feel its centre again. Hearts are all the same I tell myself. We just need some love and understanding. A place to feel secure and welcomed. Hearts are all the same. We hurt and we heal. We lose and we win. Hearts are all the same , could it be? I’ve lived in hearts of those I dont think about anymore. I’ve longed to belong in hearts of those who shut me off. Yet with you it’s always been this way. The same. Nothings changed. Your heart is where I want to lay my head to rest. Your heart is where you bring my storm to calm. Your heart is where I feel most understood. Your heart always guarded yet so transparent. Always soft yet so tough. Always aching yet filled with so much of love. Despite the beauty that lives within this heart of yours, it is anything and everything one can imagine… just never a place where you can welcome me home

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an empty stage, threadbare mint green wallpaper, the taste of liquorice and spearmint tea. crystal glasses, a forkful of matcha chiffon cake and the touch of her denim jacket. // archaic remains 28
i’m beginning to think it’s my poetic sensibilities that leave me like this. known and solemn and sodden from all. this sort of darkness, lined in green velvet, does no good for someone who is in no way a poet but has all the same kind of beatific words rattling in her chest. i wish for them to leave me alone, i desire the ignorance that comes from not knowing. i wish for the midnight running through my blood to sink back into the thickness of the red because what good does poeticness do anyway? particularly with girls with soft hearts? all that it does is ruin them from the easiness and brevity of simplicity, now they’re all stained and strained beings. and yes, there is a sort of petulance to my words but at this stage can you blame me?
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Rooftop Rhapsody

rainfalls in rhythmic droplets

drop drop, pitter patter, drip drop

rooftop rhapsody

god’s mysterious melody

awakened me

from my deepest, sweetest dream

you see, we

we’ve been born to restore

harmony and peace

dispense music and poetry

god’s gift to humanity

amid the struggles to exist

poetic wisdom from faraway stars

music to make us dance as one

revel underneath brilliant sun

you see, our survival

keys to it are encrypted in poetry

read between my lines

there you will find

secrets to which we are largely blind

encoded in every syllable

droplets of love, letters

sent from heaven

reminders that we are all the same

spirits to this dance

souls and sojourners

trying to make it through life’s rain

we need each other

everyone needs another

stranger, friend, sister, brother

time to stop fighting

our struggles are real

let’s start by dancing then uniting

music and poetry

rooftop rhapsody

god’s greatest gift to you and me

listen to it and you’ll agree

drip drop, pitter patter, drop drop

we won’t ever stop

© @followcb | August 17, 2019

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Still Red

Yes,

I clawed far out of the dark

But not into a cerulean sky

This is Purgatory, not the Promised Land

and though

I am a dying star in reverse;

an ember embracing burst,

I am not without bloodshot eyes, my dear

If I squint I will spy a vulture circling, dark clouds

Cruel summers I endured, shredded

already moth-eaten skin

No amount of green tea or therapy can get those years back

And when it strikes again, it will be loud

Yet no matter what I contribute to saving my life,

it was no will other than my own that kept me alive

I mean, I still pick at my crusted scabs

Like it’s a double-dog dare in elementary school

Like I’m checking to see if my blood is actually red

It is still red, always red

Good

Anyway,

I buzz more than burn! I drift! I consume!

I scratch at the same damn scabs

KTB


@wlwocpoetrynet // @maxmundan

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