

Why am I...Hello! How are you? It's been a while. Very long. How long? A few months - at least. And then from, When last we spoke? Well, perhaps a little more. There's a strange look in your eye that wasn't there before... Why are you boasting? Why do you feel the need to say, how good you are? I knew this already, anyway. I know you: your goodness. It's imbedded in my soul And treasured in my memories. Which are turning into hell. What's that? Oh no! I'm not saying you're ideal. Just your badness, now I don't really seem to feel, anymore. Seem lesser now. Even...somewhat forgiven. &Why am I...


Counting the minutesHere I am, waiting for my feelings to change. Waiting for the moment when I stop Thinking of you. You are a curse.Counting the minutes
You are a burden I bear. A burden That doesn't know it's there. I'd love to ask you so many things. Excavate your soul and see If there is still a piece of me Lodged between your love And your hate For yourself. These places, I dare not go. Oh no. Perhaps it is better not to know. I fear the possibilities Of you telling me to walk away Or asking me to stay I do not know If I am capable Of either.


Keep WalkingIn an open field, Alone and directionless. Searching for stability, Finding possibilities.Keep Walking
I land softly on something, I never saw was there. All the things I'm seeking, I know will be somewhere. There is sunshine in winter, And this makes me smile -
I can take the cold, If it's warm once in a while.
Everything's a process, Everything will end, The feelings, life, these moments We spend.
I am grateful, I know I have it good. I try to keep it peaceful. We all should. Plants still gr


In ConclusionOur whispers in darkness - Now only voices I hear. The touch of your tenderness,In Conclusion
I forget. I'd like to believe in fair-tale endings, Still, don't want to be naive. Memories that fade. Feelings drift away.
I didn't want to sit in darkness, Gobbled up the light. I can't see, I go with it. And it's alright.
Things move slowly, like this feeling in my stomach. In endings are beginnings. I know. I know. The little things people do together, Those little, little things -
Dust beneath my fingertips, Rust on my heart. Education.
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I've learned that when it comes to art, people often ask for a critique but what they really want is a blowjob.
Looking at you reminds me of looking at the sun, and how the blind are so damned lucky.
thank you for comment
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:*
<3/C
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Buy imagoo: [link]
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Visit my site Rude Boy Designs
www.rudeboydesigns.com
Also i seem to talk in larger words when i speak with you, which is weird, but it feels nice. Lols.
<3
x
Yeah I do realise poetry doesn't reflect true feelings, only really at the time. Its just not easy reading some of those things about yourself, end up believing them all.
Yea we did rather manage to screw up a bit hey.
I'm so so glad you feel better, that's my only concern. I'm much better too thanks, kinda broke down last night, but that happens.
Well Im really we got to at least talk a little bit on this
No harm meant, bye
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