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Literature Text
As I lie here,
I’m thinking of you,
Wondering if you
Think about me to …
Does your heart skip like mine,
Not some of the time,
Not most of the time,
But every time we talk online?
Why do I feel this way?
Or why are you on my mind day after day?
Or why do you fascinate me?
When not everything is meant to be.
Not everything is ‘but a dream’.
Life, has a harsh yielding
Of changing everything
Into something it would never seem.
I know that you probably don’t feel the same,
The past can often cloud decisions,
And you always will love her and I can’t blame
You for that, the past can’t be undone.
But I’m still thinking of you, after everything I’ve said,
Knowing that really you’re thinking of her instead.
I’m thinking of you,
Wondering if you
Think about me to …
Does your heart skip like mine,
Not some of the time,
Not most of the time,
But every time we talk online?
Why do I feel this way?
Or why are you on my mind day after day?
Or why do you fascinate me?
When not everything is meant to be.
Not everything is ‘but a dream’.
Life, has a harsh yielding
Of changing everything
Into something it would never seem.
I know that you probably don’t feel the same,
The past can often cloud decisions,
And you always will love her and I can’t blame
You for that, the past can’t be undone.
But I’m still thinking of you, after everything I’ve said,
Knowing that really you’re thinking of her instead.
Literature
Where Have You Gone?
Where have you gone, lover of mine?
Where have you been, this unending time?
Have you gone on a train, to a place far away,
Where the mountains sing and the sycamores sway?
Have you taken a boat to an island alone,
Where you sit and you think as you toss a cool stone?
Have you leaped on a plane to see new skies,
Where you watch shining stars with tired, worn eyes?
Have you just walked along roads with rotting old signs,
Where the locals count up your hard liquor fines?
Have you met someone new, sweet, and bright,
Who listens to your stories until late at night?
Have you made a friend that lends a hand,
Who will be by your side in the dirt a
Literature
Home.
Home.
As a kid, my house was noisy. At least.. that was one way to put it.
You could here the loud pangs of the pots and pans from the kitchen while my mother was cooking dinner.
You could hear the slow but steady melody of my sister tickling the ivories on her piano, but most of the time battering the keys indignantly, because she couldn't quite get the right notes.
You could hear the the resilience of my brothers basketball slamming the pavement; even from the inside of the house.
You could hear the ear piercing creaking sounds my cousins made when they scampered up the stairs.
All that and more.
I craved a place where I could sit for hour
Literature
A Long Walk
Travis grows more impatient with every laboured footstep he takes along this cursed highway littered with rusted decaying cars. He dipped is head into the sand whipped wind protecting his face from sudden gust. After it passed he pulled the bandana of his nose and scratched his chin through the rough thick beard, trying to remember the last time he actually encountered another human.
Travis places his M24 sniper rifle on the hood of the closest car and flings off the thick wool poncho sliding his backpack off his shoulders to the ground, after rummaging around for a second Travis retrieves a water canteen and takes a long awaited refreshing
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I think the poem really speaks for itself .... I suppose it's just really liking someone that you know that you cant really have, but you cant stop thinking about them anyways ... Long Story short ...
But these are real feelings at this moment in time and he probably wont even know who he is even if he did read this .....
... How depressing ...
But these are real feelings at this moment in time and he probably wont even know who he is even if he did read this .....
... How depressing ...
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Comments2
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I really like the flow and feel of this one, as well as the rhymes you used, it's very nice...