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I think constantly.


I sat on your doorstep, back touching air, legs swinging from the white wood I perched upon. You talk sweetly, kind and messy. I wonder how I came across, my mask is hanging, my eyes are still bright, aren’t they? Can you tell the difference between the last time you saw me, do I look happier? Please say I do, tell me everything.


There’s a song i really like: Savior complex - phoebe bridgers. It feels like a mantra, like something that makes sense in my head but doesn’t verbalize right.


You still remind me too much of myself, when I look into brown eyes I see green instead. I can’t verbalize the way you remind me, the way you drag me through the parts I hate most about myself. I ask myself then, “is this too much?’ i always feel like too much.


Like an overflowing glass, like a tub with the tap on. Is this how everyone feels?

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I wish you could have trusted me

Thinking about

How much I panicked

When I thought you vanished

And sank into the darkest

Corners of yourself

I wanted to be

A voice to let you know

You didn’t have to be alone

I’m still waiting for the panic

After inrealized you vanished

Only from me

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How I delight in her company, her presence intoxicates. The soft mornings as our bodies lay bare against one another. The stillness as I listen to her breathe, her heart beating against mine, how I treasure these moments with her. ~ B.T.

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The storm claw
Clutches the window
Slams it shut
With great impudence

BANG

Wake up

But the heart skips no beat
For despair’s audible holler
As the wind rages shrieking

Its invasion, an inversion
Of the known, experienced within

A translation
That despite its crudeness
Offers the sentiment of recognition
Being seen, being met
Halfway in living regret

Halfway, for I can no longer muster
Tear nor whimper

BANG

Wake up

The storm roars
Before I lock the window
And hear the rain violently strum
As I turn to seek a dream
Sans turmoil


21-1-2021, M.A. Tempels ©

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Text

poem a word stained beauty

melancholy a script 

an opium  descend from poet

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i fear the day You’ll say

‘Hold me’

More than ofear You’ll never say

'Hold me’


Will i be strong enough?

i’m too weak to guard my heart

please don’t expect me to treasure yours

and please don’t say

I never will


You and i, Heaven and hell,

the worst will crumble

When it is to keep the Best


Now, the light’s a liar

a hopeless-dreams distance

still allows us to believe.


i go to sleep

an idea next to me

I call it: You

It’s a lonesome bed and restless sleep

But better to dream

Than to breathe a nightmare


Forgive me, if i flee your touch

You will find, my skin is cold

But i wish my hand could be a promise

But i fear it is a question


When you knock at my door

Why did you find me?


-Hold me

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You, my truest and purest lover will know my middle name; you will observe it’s signifance, it’s sacredness, and keep it safe in your heart. I won’t have to explain—you’ll know my name and understand it. You’ll know why. You will have insight into everything—who I am and why I am. You’ll always understand me. I won’t have to explain myself. You will know. You will always have known.

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Affirmations

Here is my discovery: If you consistently hammer empowering beliefs into your mind it slowly stops being a prison. I use recorded affirmations. They will always work to your advantage, in my personal experience, if you give them the time and chance to really sink into your psyche. I suggest identifying the one belief you most like or need to change and then turning that into a positive affirmation, such as, for example, “I deserve love” or “I am beautiful” or “I can add value to other people”. All you have to do now is to turn your affirmations into recordings and listen to them on a loop. Do not be discouraged if you don’t seem to feel better right away or even during the first week. Change takes time. Just stick to it and you will eventually notice improvement in your way of thinking and consequently your emotional state. 

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<div> —  <i><b> Can you see me from where you are?</b></i> </div><span><p>Tomorrow I’ll catch the sun<br> on a fish-hook <br> and tie it to my windowsill.<br> ‘Cause these days <br> when he dissolves into the night <br> he seems to take away my happiness <br> with him. <br> After that, I will pick <br> every end of the universe I find,<br> stretch them into both my fists <br> and flick them like horse reins<br> twisting and turning it <br> however I like.<br> Is this too ambitious?<br> What do I do,<br> it’s all that’s left in me.</p><p>I wonder<br> if the word 'miss’ knows  <br> how deep its four characters go <br> when I think of you.<br> I learnt in school that the <br> constant rotation of the Earth<br> is what makes a day of 24hours.<br> It took us 12 dead end months to realise, <br> how fast, that slow moving world <br> actually was.</p><p>I sent Draupadi a letter<br> asking her what she told distance <br> while waiting for Krishna all that time.<br> “Dear Draupadi,<br> I think Time is testing me <br> as a penalty for calling her names <br> ma’d warned me to never speak.”</p><p>Waiting is an art form<br> and I’m an audience member <br> who watches the graceful performers <br> with the humble awareness that<br> I don’t have what it takes <br> to engage in this discipline.<br> I don’t believe I’m an artist <br> unless love is art;<br> then I am. <br> Although, none of that matters<br> with you so far.<br> I cry through afternoons <br> and dance at nightfall; <br> I perform love everyday for you,</p><p>can you see me from where you are? <br> can you see me from where you are? <br> can you see me from where you are?</p></span>
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It’s a shame I can’t comfortably possess my middle name, a name I’ve wanted fully since I was a little girl, without resorting to hiding it and treating it like a dead name. I have a sick fear of it being known, of it being polluted by the eyes of the hateful and envious presence of an entity that decided to bare the same name. It’s like I have to kill a part of my identity to protect it from evil.

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there’s something about

this longing that just won’t

shut up, I open my mouth &

it spills out of my throat. they

say the road to heaven is paved

with infinity, & infinity is made of

all the love between you & I -

those who were brave enough

to fall in love & believe in the

word forever, are the reason


forever exists.

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logical/emotional

it’s there within the pages. i wrote it, with my own small hands and from my own small mind (heart?) choose one, choose the other, weigh them and be the judge. right brained, left brained, on the correct side of the universe. i am a robot or i am an overwhelmed mess, i am warned against and sympathized for. little one, you were a wonder to be and a laugh to look back on, but i often wonder if your little comparisons of machine vs too human would ever be a prediction of the future.

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Text

when will i know me

when can i become i

do i exist as i

or  just  an organization of hungry cell

i a slave plan to prison break 

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silence is the missing page I can’t stop reading over and over again. with all my heart I try, but often fail to brush the ghosts aside. and at times I look back, if only to be sure he’s gone. so darling, please forgive me if I hesitate, it’s not that i’m afraid of love, I’m just the girl who fell behind, and paid the price in salt.

maybe the reason you spent so much time in the darkness was to help show others the way out.

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𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙩𝙨 || ileana amara. ☾

most poets seem to be too drunk in love,

vomiting out words as their heart throbbed

while i was one who stayed sober,

after a few bad hangovers;

writing as i clutch a bottle of wine to cope,

maybe next time, i’ll pour it onto a glass of hope.

IA ☕

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Once I thought she was the moon

Distant, untouchable

An ethereal goddess is never know

Other than the light she brings

When the sun has set and the stars shine

How wrong was I, a foolish man

To think I couldn’t fly

All I needed was to believe

In the power within myself

Then I took wing, into the sky

And reached infinity

Upon her cheek I did alight

With the gentlest touch I have

And moonlight passed right through me

Still a mortal man

Yet my goddess, lady moon

Was real, and held my hand

All I had to do to reach her cheek

Was reach out, take a chance

.

- © Michael Greywood Poetry 2021 -

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