Huddled Inside My Soul

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Huddled Inside My Soul

 

Come to me

On your darkest day.

as shadows consume your light,

as tears douse the overwhelming fires

choking you in their solitary smoke.

Come to me

when your heart falls into the abyss

drowning in dark seas of solitude,

in a world eclipsed by loneliness.

Come to me

I can make you whole,

basking in my light,

once you are

huddled inside my soul.

 

Photo from Google Images

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The Beautiful Redhead

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The Beautiful Redhead

She wore her red hair

like a fragrance by Chanel.

An elegant tapestry of

silky curls and waves.

The ebb and flow of her locks

calming like a starry night.

If she only knew

what I would give

to caress her hair tonight.

 

Photo of redhead from Google Images.

DISCLAIMER: I am the Lonely Author and I approve of this message.

My Words Of Love On You

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My Words Of Love On You

 

How I yearn to create a verse

as inspiring as my loving muse.

Yet no recital, no symphony

nor poem will be as beautiful

as having my lips engrave 

my words of love on you.

 

 

Photo taken from Google Images.

DISCLAIMER:  FACT.

She Writes For Me

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She Writes For Me

No one knows our secret

Our beautiful connection

From her pen

To my heart

She writes of love

She writes of me

Perhaps she’ll write tonight

so I can read her words

and pretend

she writes for me.

Image borrowed from Google Images.

DISCLAIMER. Fiction, though I wish it wasn’t.

How Many Flowers Have To Die (Tears For Parkland, Florida)

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How Many Flowers Have To Die

 

Beautiful gardens full of life

warming us with their hope.

Gardens so full of innocence,

the innocence we lose every

time a storm of hate invades.

When will we cultivate love,

or are we waiting to discover

how many flowers have to die.

 

Photo from Google Images.

My deepest condolences to the the victims, families, and community of Parkland, Florida.  Florida.

 

 

The Way Things Used To Be

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The Way Things Used To Be

 

Our home has become as lonely

as the last leaf on a dying tree

laughter no longer reverberates against walls

we consummated with our love

old arguments replay themselves endlessly

like a scratched record avoiding the next beat

the eerie shadows of who we once were

turn us into restless spirits of the night 

as we haunt ourselves with stained memories of

the way things used to be

 

Photo from Google Images

 

Beyond Repair

broken-woman

Beyond Repair

Unloved.

Neglected.

Mistreated.

With love I recovered

all of her broken pieces.

With kisses I attempted

to heal her wounds.

But

trust never appeared,

her tears never ended.

How could I have known

she was broken

beyond repair.

 

Image borrowed from Google Images