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Archive for December, 2012

My Art and Soul

When I write down these words,
they’re no longer exclusively my own.
When I share them with the world,
anyone can provide them with a home.

Put them in your pocket.
Do with them what you’d like.
I will never tell somebody
my art and soul have a price.

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The Most

My hand still feels warm
from the last time yours was in mine.
Do you remember those happy months
when our hearts were intertwined?

We fell head over heels,
yet it ended all the same.
How could love that felt so real
go crashing down in flames?

It was like losing half of my body
the day you decided to walk away.
You said we didn’t stand a chance,
that there wasn’t a reason to stay.

But I do have a piece of you.
These memories remain intact.
Perhaps I could end up okay
if I can focus my mind on that.

I’m making a vow at this moment.
Single will I be for the rest of existence.
Beauty won’t sway me to break it,
nor any amount of persistence.

For after being with you,
the rest wouldn’t even come close.
I could never forget you.
You’re the woman I love the most.

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Ugly

My heart is now an ugly piece of worthless art.
Put it on display for the public to love or hate.
Analyze the bleeding wounds and faded scars,
more than reminders of the mistakes I’ve made.

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I Won’t Put Up a Fight

We talked about it
while the moon beamed.
Life and death,
and everything in between.

What will I be remembered for
when I meet the end?
Will I be the man with
the broken heart nobody could mend?
The one people tried to save,
but without success?
The one who went and turned his life
into an utter mess?

Or could all of this
possibly change before I die?
I’m searching for answers,
but can’t find any in the sky.

Recently nothing has been
going the way I feel it should.
Others tell me things will improve,
but I don’t see how they could.

She left me
and she’s never coming back.
She found herself another man
to hold at night.
Now the stars are appearing
on that sheet of black,
and I keep telling myself
I won’t put up a fight.

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On Disliking Taylor Swift

The girls I know who insist on disliking Taylor Swift,
always quick to point out her minute imperfections,
are the very same girls who listen to Justin Bieber,
and who can’t seem to get enough of One Direction.

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For Hours

How many lives must I live
to have a chance with you?
How many poems must I write
for the message to get through?

I’m so weary from waiting,
but for you I’ll never quit,
even as the sea is raging
while the sky throws a fit.

No event could transpire
that would take away my hope.
I’m serious about my love.
None of this is a joke.

I know that one day you’ll give me a shot,
and I’ll prove all of my devotion to you.
The sun will come out of its hiding place,
and each cloud will step aside for the blue.

We’ll talk and laugh for hours,
until the morning starts to break.
We’ll learn each other inside out,
then we’ll have nothing left to say.

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The Day That It Rained

Choices can hurt
the voiceless ones.
They can’t object.
They can’t even run.

They’re forced from
their safe, warm homes
and taken to a place
they will never roam.

Innocence cruelly bound
to live deep underground.

The timing was wrong,
so we sang a sad song
with crashes of gong
that rang out too long.

The neighbors complained
the day that it rained,
so the police intervened,
and we all fled the scene,

heading for the forest
to live with the trees,
the insects, the pinecones,
and the wide, flowing streams.

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