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I never expected to capture anything more
than a fragment of you
A phrase you might once have spoke in your sleep,
A twitch of your lips,
Or the curve of your spine when you stretched.

I soon realized that snippets of you were all about the place,
caught in the hedge by the back gate or reflected in the kettle.
The rings of coffee mugs on my old desk,
and loose change down the back of the sofa.
Even when I was away I still found you,
Sand in my shoes, folded corners in my books,

Even though you are gone,
I can see you in myself.
I speak with your words,  
I still see the world as you described it,
Full of wonder and curiosity,
But now tinged with bitterness.
Lyrics from your songs lurk in my mind,
And an aching emptiness where my heart once was.

I cannot forget you,
For I cannot escape you.
hmm
Someone You May Know

I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile
You may deceive others with your smooth guile
But I know you are rotten and so cruel
Conning your way through life, you’re such a tool
When you are found out, all will agree you are vile
I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile
A stranger you are to just laws and rules
Instead, your lifestyle leaves me most hostile
What a wretch, a fiend; you are such a ghoul
I know what’s going on, don’t play the fool
Hiding behind your oh so charming smile

Kelly Rose
© January 13, 2017
 Feb 2017 Madison Greene
Aeerdna
Maybe it's not about this
Maybe it's not about the way you say my name
Or about the paper planes you wrote our dreams on
And then tried to fly them from your room
To my hands.

Maybe it's not about the songs you played to me
On your old guitar
Neither about the way your laugh would come killing
Every sad minute in my life.

Maybe its not about the way you'd show me the snow and the sun
The rain
And the autumn in your eyes.

Maybe it's not about the way you've taught me
how to fight loneliness
Or how to smile and chase away the demons in my head.

Maybe it's not about any of these.
Or maybe it's about everything.


Maybe it's about the fact that I love you
And
You've never taught me
How to stop this.

All I know is
Paper planes don't always fly
Only my dreams do
All the time.

Away from me
Away from you
Away from us.
"Which side of the bed is yours?"
You asked.
And I panicked.

I don't believe I have ever been asked.
Not for any particular
embarrassing quirk.
Not much space do I use.
It must be my fear of the bed itself.
To rest my head.
To be touched.
To close my eyes,
and simply
breathe

So you ask which side of the bed is mine and I tell you to take the bed.
I'll take the couch.
He was a spider who lured me into his web. He did not eat me nor try to harm me, he had no intention at all but to leave me there stranded and confused.
Well I'm single ... Again
If
If I were your light,
     I would conquer all shadows
     From your mind, your heart, your soul.

I would chase your demons
     Until they expired. No more hiding
     Under bed nor closet. No more ghouls.

If I were your hero,
     I would keep you safe.
     I would heal your broken wings.

My strength would fortify,
     Reassure and comfort. You'd have peace
     Of such as the nightingale sings.

If I were your moon,
     You could fall asleep in the embrace
     Of my glow. Darkness no more.

But if I were the moon,
     You must be the sun. It is your love
     I reflect. Your love that I adore.
 Jan 2017 Madison Greene
Mr Himel
You are the girl with a golden heart
Gave me smile and made the start
Start of a new journey, new passion
You are my soul now, my emotion

I won't think twice to tell you something
That I'm falling in love with everything
Everything you do, you say or think
You are my drug now, you are my drink
I like to your comments
 Jan 2017 Madison Greene
Mr Himel
When I see her smiling,
She makes me smile too
She is not just cute & innocent,
She is pretty & beautiful too

My emotions are connected now,
With her heart and her feeling
She found me, when I was wounded
And she was there for my healing
Please post your feedback.
I don’t get to write sad poetry anymore
Not when you nested between my ribs like a second heart,
beating an orchestra,
a whole concerto against my skin.
There’s gentle fingers on my scraped knees,
they don’t feel so painful anymore.
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