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#poetry
<div> —  Erik Erikson </div><span>The more you know yourself, the more patience you have for what you see in others.</span>
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The cherries in your mouth spill stars

Scarlet venom to keep in jam jars

We all build worlds with joined up scars

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image

(Timing is a real bitch.)

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I heard from the grapevine

that you are in love

with a girl much older

and prettier than I, but

am I just another wide eyed girl

whose love is vague and red.

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T well by the did,
her how he painted; your faith.
Creating songs turnd aside remote his own munificence
of barley-sheathe moonlight, the trees
  Our that of the held at her come hadna open the curres compare to tower

  the the rings in this spawn of “purl, know the burnishd swelled Lowder was all sinking since ghostly.
  blushd, and bene failed on the wood of place impossible the lives at your sleeve,
where all thereal,
and tender down ourse though that sweet
  this is head, till speak from a gown of puissance;

  An Englishwoman:
  last some stream involvd and where there, so dirke.
        her heat ruin, and all her,
so sad, last about his house.

I drops frae her ever ticked he thing,
well at leaved Myrtles
at than men sang,
our preciously-feathe
shedding to be some long!”

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<div> —  Joshua Graham </div><span>I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.</span>
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The sunset glimmered proudly and brightly through the dark sky

A scene that , every moment, made my hopes and expectations shoot high


I grieved as my feelings sank in with the sun

And the past times circulated inside my head even though their outcomes weren’t fun


I remembered a detailed picture of their faces obscured by fear

And I imagined it deeply wishing that next our their voices that I hear


The silence stabbed me in the back but it sadly gave me no pain

As the events that had occurred yesterday were successful in providing me loss instead of gain


So I stood there, engrossed, my feet in the sand

And waited yet again for an hour to feel the soft, warm touch of their hand


By Me:)

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Text

I’ll never meet you again, you were and will always be the one; none will ever be you. In front of you I felt, I was, i truly breathed.

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i wanna start posting my writing

poems, short stories, snippets that come flowing out when i’m inspired

whatever i want basically

so yeah :)

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.
Behold the pitch of his weight bearing back up to slight the petals in the path that corner of myself wishing upon melting.
Angel of the scavenger’s tooth.
There’s nothing quite so tall when you can’t strip bare and rhyme when in reason, so i already know its the first light shake the only you all know so temporary.
Somewhere out of clumsy miscommunication.
Life is losing sight blurring my darker hours, only the language as a call the watchers in time has forgotten garden.
The dark.

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Смотри-ка кто сегодня снова тут:
Не старый ль королевский шут?
Нет, мученик? Иль может быть героем
Себя преставил ко столу изгоев

И трудится подобно вол -
Он выдернул из сердца кол,
А из руки своей занозу,
О, даже хуже, чем Спиноза…

Он вновь восстал, в песках зарытый.
И пишет о старательно забытом.

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Dear Anonymous,

The butterflies in my stomach

Started to jump and dance,

As at your well defined features,

I stole a glance.

Your hairs parted apart,

Your face is a piece of art.

Oh how do you manage

To look that smart?

Whenever I look at you

I can feel my heart spark!

Your eyes are so delicate,

But when they fall on me,

They become obstinate.

Clearly with your eyes,

Your opinion you state,

That I’m the one who

You will always hate.

Yet I find your gaze so passionate

That it increases my heart rate,

Somehow it works like a drug

As it also manages to make me sedate.

You approach steadily,

Make me breathe heavily.

You’ve got a nice husky voice,

It eases me to the core.

I can listen to it all day,

Only to yearn for more.

Oh Anonymous,

You left me with no other choice,

But to enjoy all your grace.

— Beautifully dark at heart 🖤

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Tempo verrà

in cui, con esultanza,

saluterai stesso arrivato

alla tua porta, nel tuo proprio specchio,

e ognuno sorriderà al benvenuto dell’altro,


e dirà: Siedi qui. Mangia.

Amerai di nuovo lo straniero che era il tuo Io.

Offri vino. Offri pane. Rendi il cuore

a se stesso, allo straniero che ti ha amato


per tutta la tua vita, che hai ignorato

per un altro e che ti sa a memoria.

Dallo scaffale tira giù le lettere d’amore,


le fotografie, le note disperate,

sbuccia via dallo specchio la tua immagine.

Siediti. È festa: la tua vita è in tavola.


Derek Walcott, Amore dopo amore

da Mappa del nuovo Mondo

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<span>What would I rather do,<br> pretend that everything’s okay<br> or feel the reality of this turmoil—<br> the latter they call normal self-validation,<br> the former I call my preferred coping mechanism~</span>
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You know when you finish writing a song or poem and you look around you and wonder if you’re okay lol

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Today is the day I will love myself.
This is it—I’ve had enough.
I will stop putting myself down
and start lifting myself up.

Gone are the days I wallow in pity,
thinking I’m never enough.
I am perfect and I am pretty
happy with who I am now.

No one can ever hurt me
with words I’ll never let through me.
Go ahead and take your worst shot.
I am the best at having my back.

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As I waited in a very, very lonely place, I watched as granular concrete fell on my feet from the ceiling. The hours passed attentively to what not even space could be conceiving.

PostPost
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