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 Jun 2013 Annisa Vincent
sked
It's an addiction
It can't be understood
In its exterior it is simplistic
In its interior it is complex

It is something that can't be understood
By those outside it
Because they don't know the highs
Or where it does take you
All those outside it can only see
Just how it will break you

But they can't see
They can't see how good it feels
The stages are easy to know
When you can follow me

Stage 1: The first date
Always the best part
The nerves
The preparation
The mystery
The first time that I touch her hand
A rush
I feel high again

Stage 2: The first kiss
Always a favorite
Because I mastered it
I take her to the perfect place
She loves it
An overlook
A stream
Nature surrounding
The kiss happens
It's perfect to her
She loves it
As do I
I feel that rush again

Stage 3: The convincing
The dating
The kissing
The sensations
All are easy to see why it's sensational
The feeling of her skin against mine
The listening to her perfect breath move her chest
In and out
In and out
I tell her I love her
She isn't sure at first
But I try harder
As we continue
And I succeed
I feel the euphoria coming in

Step 4: The love
That comfort
That security
That feeling of serenity
It cloaks me
Wraps me around
Its sky blue blanket
And lays me in
A green field
She's there too
Next to me
Feeling the same earth
Beneath us
I turn to her
Eyes whatever color
It nonetheless dazzles me
It fills me with something dangerous
Hope
That rush is gliding me through

Stage 5: The loss
Parents get in the way
She loses that feeling
I'm a *******
But either way
That feeling
That was once with her
Is gone
She walks the thin line
Performing a balancing act
Trying to find reason to be together but can't
She calls me up on the phone
Tells me how everything is wrong
I don't see it
I can't see it
Our love was perfect!
We both made it!
And now you're killing it!
We meet up
I beg but she's stands her ground
She walks up
Leaves
I'm alone
Left to sob
Yell
Get angry
That adrenaline rush from the high rises

Stage 6: The hate
The pacing
The change of thoughts
I still love her one day
I despise her the next
I feel anxiety kick in
Try my best to hold it
But can't
I call her up
Yell at her
Scream at her
Tell her that
She threw something great away
She hangs up
Blocks me
Never speaks to me again
I still keep pacing
Feeling more often guilty
Than angry
ineverwantedtohurtyoualliwantedtodowassaveyoufromanyoneelse­iknowthatisaidiwantedyoutosufferbutthatsnnottrueatalliddoanything­
Sometimes I still feel that hope
But it's fading
Fades fast
It's all over

My high is going down
I need to go back
And cook some more

She moves on quickly
I got her addicted too
She feels that addiction too
It draws us both in
And we can't imagine
What it would be like to leave
It is the cycle
That helps make us
And the cycle
That can break us
 Jun 2013 Annisa Vincent
kenzo
She was 17
He was 19
She kept to herself, head always buried in a book
He broke hearts and caused trouble
They met at a train station
She was sitting on the bench, clenching a book
He was leaning up against the brick wall
eyes on his watch
waiting for the train
so he could meet his dealer
The roar of the train echoed in their ears
She got up
Her brown hair blowing back in the wind
He saw her from the corner of his eye
She began to walk towards the train
book still in hand
sun shining through the white lace of her flowing skirt
His eyes stared her up and down now

She begins to run
her light black sandals picking up pace
not even realizing it,
He begins to run too
heart beat rising in his throat
It was as if an angel had slowed down the train
or time itself
She feels the warmth of his arms around her
the trains engine screams at her
He pulls her back, holding her close
they collapse on the platform
watching the train fly past on the tracks
tears fall from her eyes
sparkling like tiny diamonds
He calms her down, brushing the hair out of her face
softly saying in her ear
"shh. you're okay. you're okay."
People talked frantically
dozens of eyes on them
The book she was reading only a feet away
She stops crying for a second
and looks into his blue eyes
He looks back into her light brown eyes
"Why did you save me? Why didn't you just let me go?"
Red and blue lights flash in the background
He feels a warm sensation in his heart
"You wouldn't have known who you would have fallen in love with
and I wouldn't have gotten the chance to buy you coffee"

That, my darlings
is how my Grandmother and Grandfather met
and still together till this day.

proof:
love is timeless
 Jun 2013 Annisa Vincent
R
I have a notebook I
Write in everyday.
Poetry and songs
Even your name
Somehow gets twisted in
The words I write.

What will it take for you to
notice me?
 Jun 2013 Annisa Vincent
Vierra
She sat down at her seat in the train and took a deep breath.
The times spent squandering the daylight in  her lover's arms
was the only iridescent reality she'd ever known.
But even that seems as if only a long fond dream.
She now has to wear sweaters to keep out the cold.
With her headphones playing a soft Bob Dylan tune,
she closed her eyes.
That lump in her throat began to build
and a single
tear rolled down her cheek.
Memories that she was trying to run from hit
her as if all in once.
She held her head in her hands and clenched her teeth.

'Stop this pain.' she thought

'I'm  not going to live someone else's  dreams."

The train didn't  stopped till 5000 miles later.
After all these years a part you strom back  into my life as if nothing has happen.telling me that you still love and want me.but i am not that stupid teenager who is still in love with you.

You have broke my heart once and you will do it again.the love we had is nothing more than a memory.so many nights were spent crying because you hurt me.

Time changes things leaving nothing as it once use to be.the truth is i don't need you anymore i am happy now.we learn from our mistakes i will never come back to you.
I am the faded moth,
attracted to the light you project,
or maybe in the end
I really am the butterfly
because those false pretenses of protection
keep me in the dark
Opposites attract
yet comprehension
of deeper senses
retains a spark.

I can't seem to get out of my head.
Frantic, demanding that
someone brings relief
and like the dreams
(that were safe in their painless blur)
no souls seem to see
a soul in me.

How disgusted I am
knotted
at the thought of simple needs.
Keeping me believing
but I need my sanity
for tainted perspective.
Concepts of
timelessness and gravity
and post life confessions
dragging judgment down
to endless inferno
(or was that above ground?)
I guess that is, perhaps,
what we're arguing for.

Believe in my sin
Or you'll burn in my hell.
Hypocrites can spit their biased rhymes
the sweetest sound of their own voice
pounding out adversity
with privilege so protected
by a sheltered sense of freedom
have you seen them?
sparks in their eyes
but no fire meets mine
like a reflection on black glass
asking for attention, recognition
but I was raised with suspicious superstition
born to distrust
disgust
and disappear.
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