Posts
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Haunted
We all have a shadow
that follows us around,
never leaving our sides.
It's like a lost puppy,
one that trails behind us.
Except, we forget it's there,
so it's more like the slight chill -
Home
For the longest time,
I thought home was a place.
I thought it was a house,
in the smalll state I live in.
I assumed it had to be a place,
one I was bound to by invisible forces.
I assumed I was only homesick -
Not A Fool.
You always wait until the moon disappears,
before looking up at the stars,
now seeing them for how beautiful they are.
Without the moon, the sea knows how vain
you truly are, but you are merely a shadow forged from light. -
“You’re So Mature.”
Most adults think I’m ‘mature’ for my age.
They say it like it’s some reward,
like I’ll get a Medal of Honor for being so mature
for the very little years I’ve spent on this planet, I call home. -
????
Will the wind blow away your love?
Will you fall away from what you love the most?
Like the autumn leaves?
Will you say your gentle goodbyes?
Like flying geese?
Are you going to sugar coat all that you do? -
Shooting Stars
As a child,
deep within my restless nights,
I'd sit by my window,
and hope for a shooting star.
The star that could grant any wish I had.
I would mistake a satellite
for a shooting star,
and wish for something small.
Loves
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The Harvest Moon
As the days fade from September and into October
so the leaves fade from the trees
which is to say
sometimes tearing away with a gust of wind
other times trickling away slowly
like a faucet that never stops completely -
In the Autumn
Everything begins again.Over and over, the seasons come and go,
however, the canopy of leaves strikes more beautiful
in the Autumn.
And the best feeling
is a cozy one,
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Things of Which I am Certain
Certainly, I am uncertain about more things than I am certain.
But that does not mean there are no things of which I’m certain.
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The Dance of Love and Hate
Love is a river, its current flowing fast,
Its depths unknown, yet teeming with life that lasts.
Beneath the surface, secrets lie in wait,
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On Moths and Butterflies
You must never touch a butterfly
and fear its fragile wings
for if you touch a butterfly
what horrors your touch brings
The dust glitters as it falls
and the insect starts to wilt
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The Eldest of the Seasons
if life is but a dream for the dead
may you visit us during autumn, the eldest of the seasons
letting your fragile bones be exposed to the crisp air of october
letting your fingertips run over the bars of the cemetery gates