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And I'll wait for you.
You will park your car on that same, our  place.
You will be late. I will always understand.
And I will never be angry.
You know that.
And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
And while the phone battery withstand.
You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
I'll tell you stories when You dive in me.
You'll ask me what I'm thinking.
Attracting of the souls and suffering.
You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
It's chilly.
We open a can of beer.
It is difficult to cope with fear.
Don't be scared, everyone is afraid.
You ask me what I want, Ameli.
I want to lie down and be silent
Until you turn to me and whisper "love me"
Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
At dawn I open the window.
You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
You'll ask me if all of this was important.
And we both know
That it was.
Translated by Mary...
the dreams i had for you and i
well i never really believed in them,
but i didn't want to see them die.

you took part of my heart with you when you left,
now i'll never see you again
and it hurts more than i can express.

you were my best friend,
but you were much more than that to me.
you were my heart, my confidant,
and i that's how i always wanted it to be.

i knew from the start we'd never be together,
it was just never in the cards.
you took your life away from me,
and now my life is in shards.
You weep for your son's dying on a foreign field
so many  miles from home
And from your tear filled eyes
tears of hypocrisy run
For every bullet that hit your boys was
another dollar won
You were the executioner of your sons
Because it was you who sold the bullets and guns
For you I can hold sadness but also deep contempt
How many families are now in mourning
So that you can add to your bloodstained wealth
Arms dealers do not care to whom they sell the tools of death
Just been going through my poetry
As I'm sure many of you do
And noticed something different
Now so many empty spaces
Where I once saw prophile faces
WHY?
Where have they gone,
why did they leave?
The ones we called our friends
Those who once might have wielded swords
But chose to wield the pen
Now so many empty spaces
Where once were prophile faces
So many gifted writers are leaving us
When darkness descends
And doubts fill your mind
Love will always prevail
My words are but a shooting star
To be seen in all its glory
But as shooting stars fade in an instant
So do my words to be read once
Then fade into obscurity
 Mar 2016 Chijioke Nnamani
Mateo
Moon shines on the pond.
Illuminating water,
While it fills my lungs.
~M. Pierce
Haiku,
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