favorite Canvas Bag Eddany me calls Plus mom star Snooker Tote My 8wqxwO5B

favorite Canvas Bag Eddany me calls Plus mom star Snooker Tote My 8wqxwO5B favorite Canvas Bag Eddany me calls Plus mom star Snooker Tote My 8wqxwO5B
Ferns mom Canvas me Snooker calls Plus favorite Eddany My Tote star Bag Jul 25
Is it not easy 
 to greet to someone
whom you never spoke
for a very long time?

Among all people,
I am the only one
you've always bypass
to talk to

I know the hindrance
calls Eddany favorite Canvas Tote mom me Bag My star Snooker Plus
why we ward off each other
just to make ourselves
escape the stigma

Curiosity gets bigger
Each time I look at you
Should I wait patiently
Or take the wheel further

One thing I could do...
All what I wanted to say,
all my thoughts about you,
are profoundly shrouded

You and me
are the only ones
to know what's in...
where people shouldn't know

A storage box
of unspoken words
a birthday bag
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full of sweets

If you are reading this
do not assume
that I did them
°••°••°••°
°•°◇°•°

There are no
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Monsters here...

this, the
abandoned
soft, fertile soil,
that was
to feed the
Family Gardens.

No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts.

a painful place...
this invasive, pervasive,
clusterfuck
of Us .

Here lay
The raw,
The ragged
mashed up
mis-understandings.
An onslaught
of hurts,
that float and fester
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in our cauldron
of tears.

'Canvas of Colors'
tells Our story...
Melding together
The frozen and
unthawed moments of
all the
Precious
Forever
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There are no Monsters here

We are the tender
beings that continue
to breathe ragged
after the forest fire,
tripping through
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turned wet black.
Dank and slippery.

Yearning to find
strong footing
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amongst these
ruins of our
own doing

No evil creatures, lurking behind
these timid
hurting hearts
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There are no Monters here
Addiction uprootes and infects
The most loving of families
WS Warner Jul 2014
Corpses proliferate in soaring violence; heirloom of franchise and eminence— perish in erosion.

Timid denizens of derision, cynicism in roaring silence — optimism’s paling vapor—commodity of Indecision, our halcyon days forgotten.

Chosen token of audacity; the onyx maladroit feigns, prevaricating beneath the Sacred canopy.

Etudes of apathy; attrition unlamented; streams of guile— quixotic squall conversely merge — veiled conceit, eloquent arrow of equivocation.

The policy of attenuation.

Treason’s vine obscured beneath the blind surf of consent.

© 2014 & 2016 W. S. Warner
In the last 5 month's
Both my cats have
passed away
My mornings now so quite
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I miss them both everyday

Romero
(Jan 08=Feb 18)
Such a magnificent cat
always ready for his morning cuddle and chat
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You could lift him with two hands he'd be stiff like a plank
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Put him round your neck
he'd hang there all lank
Such a chilled
layed back cat
was he
and he loved to curl up
on your knee
He'd knock on the door
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if locked in a room
My poor Romero
dying way to soon

Destiny
(Mar 09=July 18)
This little puss so very pretty
timid at times
and a little bit skitty
Some days you'd not see her  
she'd hide away
But then
she could happily sit on your lap
all day
You'd see her meowing
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without making a sound
She loved playing with tissue balls
smacking them around

Afternoons spent with each other
playing hide and seek
there would be chasing
with stealth like pacing

Now beside Romero
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In our garden under the rose bush
So forever they may play
Missing my cats terribly
KitaRaizal Apr 2014
A Kiss as cold as ice,
A smile as stony as brick,
Skin as rough as the stormy waters,
Eyes sparkle like diamonds.
~
Her kisses leave icy splinters in their wake,
Lips soft as a snow flake,
But sharp as the sea,
Fingers tangled in jungles,
Tongues tied,
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Lips parted,
Soft echo's threw the valley.
~
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Whispering moans,
Gentle breezes,
Timid hearts.
~
Thawing out,
Her kisses slowly turn,
Into blooms of spring,
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~
Summer-Skye
atptla Feb 14
Days passing by without talking,
Hours passing by yielding to a timid longing.
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A longing that cries like a brute in chains wanting to be free,
Killing each of the desires and wishes in me.

I have a place where I watch all my dreams be immolated,
Beneath enhsrouded clouds having a story needs to be recited.
I have a burden inside that I can't dare to elude,
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As I require it to feel safe and appease my feud.

Millions of hollow words spoken sincerely and tended to be forgot,
And millions of broken promises burried in my heart,
Echoing in blank last and going astray,
Nothing left for me to hold on and hinder the decay.

Weaker now, the modest sound in my chest,
Drowning meekly but in suspense at death's behest.
Fading strength, and falling a pearless snowflake,
Beseeching this cold sanctity to ease my ache.

My tenuity can't strive with time's withering,
And I hear an ominous whistle's whispering.
While the last light dies out into dark,
You will be lost in time without leaving a mark.
Rub my back and head goodnight,
listen to my absent voice.
My heart slits any light I'd seen,
and this feeling; it's a void.
A soft grasp for unopened hope,
we cannot cope in pillaged bliss.
I'm melting in acid down to bone,
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I can't lie still, I can't rest,
my eyes are timid, and my fears unsaid.
I'm an inconvenience-
I hope this poem isn't confusing...
The best thing for me when I can't sleep is for someone to rub my back, or my head.. It's comforting to know someone's next to you, right there for you. I know the poem is sad, but I also wanted it to be sweet.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
#ml
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