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 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
Lunar
I just want you
to be happy
but sometimes
and selfishly
I want to be
your happiness

But
'happiness is a choice'
you say
and you didn't choose me

I clung onto the idea
since you made me happy
it would be the same for you

What is happiness now?
where has it gone to?
In time, society has robbed us
the real meaning of happiness

Go on your own way
and pursue your happiness
for your smile, is my smile
your laugh, is my laugh

and I'll be happy
when you find your happiness
because I love you
always have, always will
 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
zasrany

You are stronger than you realise.
You are crueller than you realise.
The smallest words will break your heart.
You will change. You’re not the same person you were three years ago. You’re not even the same person you were three minutes ago and that’s okay. Especially if you don’t like the person you were three minutes ago.
People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires.
You won’t like your name until you hear someone say it in their sleep.
You’ll forget your email password but ten years from now you’ll still remember the number of steps up to his flat.
You don’t have to open the curtains if you don’t want to.
Never stop yourself texting someone. If you love them at 4 a.m., tell them. If you still love them at 9.30 a.m., tell them again.
Make sure you have a safe place. Whether it’s the kitchen floor or the Travel section of a bookshop, just make sure you have a safe place.
You will be scared of all kinds of things, of spiders and clowns and eating alone, but your biggest fear will be that people will see you the way you see yourself.
Sometimes, looking at someone will be like looking into the sun. Sometimes someone will look at you like you are the sun. Wait for it.
You will learn how to sleep alone, how to avoid the cold corners but still fill a bed.
Always be friends with the broken people. They know how to survive.
You can love someone and hate them, all at once. You can miss them so much you ache but still ignore your phone when they call.
You are good at something, whether it’s making someone laugh or remembering their birthday. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that these things don’t matter.
You will always be hungry for love. Always. Even when someone is asleep next to you you’ll envy the pillow touching their cheek and the sheet hiding their skin.
Loneliness is nothing to do with how many people are around you but how many of them understand you.
People say I love you all the time. Even when they say, ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’ or ‘He’s an *******.’ Make sure you’re listening.
You will be okay.
You will be okay."
The poem was written by a ******* tumblr named Ivy you can check her out here , http://ohthativy.tumblr.com. I apologise for not giving her credit from the start I just didn't know who the author was.
If my life were a recipe
I feel like every ingredient would be followed
by the word "optional".

8 hours of sleep (optional)
Two to three meals a day (optional)
1 social life (optional)
1 job (optional)
A handful of friends (optional)
A pinch of creativity (optional)
One cup of laughter (optional)
Three heaped tablespoons of positivity (optional)

You get the idea.

But you're different.
You're the one ingredient I can't do without.
You're the one thing that matters
when I can't be bothered with the rest of it.
When all the chopping and sautéing and boiling
and grilling of everyday life
seems like too much hassle,
there's always enough time for you.
You're my quick-fix meal on a weekday evening.
You're a mid-morning snack
snatched between errands.
A quiet evening in on a Saturday
with a bottle of wine and Joni Mitchell playing
"I could drink a case of you".
I could cook you every night.
You're comfort food at its finest
unpretentious, convenient.
Never bland and never tiresome.
You're the one ingredient I'll always have in stock,
that one I'll never let myself run out of.
Because you cannot be substituted.
You, and only you, are not optional.
I wrote this purely because the box at the top said Title (optional) and I was all out of ideas.
Had I been a poet river born
Flowed at ebbs to the sea
Fed on her shores fields of corn
On her face etched the sky gaily!

Had I been a poet river bred
Rode her waves of lunar tide
Kissed her bank in cool summer shade
And never ever left her side!

I would have grown a love riverine
For all lives feeding on her breast
Fishes shrimps the dolly dolphin
***** turtles and the rest!

One moonlit night when she rose high
Drowned me in her beauteous wine
In a feathery drop on her bed I would lie
Breathing river poet’s one last line!
I'm another
textbook
definition
of what
the kids
shouldn't
be.

(10w)
-Andrew Durst.
(3/26/14)
 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
Rose
Tragic
 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
Rose
She used to be happy
An innocent angel once
Always been deceived

Sick of being miserable
Poison spread in her heart
She screamed for help
Did anyone care?

Surrounded by cruel monsters
Dead compassion around
Betrayals and disappointments

"Why? tell me.. why does it have to be like this", she cried

Shame on herself
Run.. run, run far away
Storms and hurricanes along the way
Lightning and loud thunder
The girl was afraid.. lost

Scared, angry and weeping
Broken dreams and wishes
Drowning in the deep sea
Locked in a missing door
Where are they now?
Everything has faded
It will never be seen again

She finds herself nowhere
Misguided by pain
An odd path was seen
Light slowly vanishes
In the cold dark side..
A place she'd rather be
Curled in a ball, frustrated

"I'm worthless..", she said
Awfully accusing the mirror
Asking herself repeatedly

Black roses holding her
Torn that made her numb
Still she's hiding at ease
Needing to forget reality
Hopelessly still wondering
Lonely, frightened, tears falling

"I'm better off alone", she whispered

She closed her eyes.. sadly
Tired from all the suffering
There.. the girl sleeps peacefully..
Never want to see light again
Fooling her soul in dreams.. *eternally
 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
jvb
silence
 Mar 2014 Autumn Stott
jvb
What does silence feel like?
Silence feels like waiting at a train station at 3:00am.

What does silence look like?
Silence looks like seeing your dad walk out the door again.

What does silence taste like?
Silence tastes like cold leftovers from the night before.

But worst of all
Silence is seeing someone you love, with someone else.
Found this poem in my journal that I wrote a few months ago
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