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For many a year in a far away land, a story was passed over lips and by hand,
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Lovers have spent lifetimes singing songs and writing poems.
The smitten seem forever spouting sonnets, giving alms.
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I think I'm losing my touch.
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Distance is a bittersweet protagonist. I open my eyes and wonder where you've gone
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i.
I often forget to take my keys with me because I'm still learning how hard it can be to come home.
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I suck at writing love poems. When I met you, my style changed and my life rearranged,
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You will hate this poem. You're not going to like it because this poem is about me.
This poem is about you.
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They were almost kids when the chemicals started rushing through their brains. When love and infatuation were OCD and those almost kids became addictions to oxytocin and dopamine.
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There's a poem inside of me and
this one's for you because whether I like it or not,
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Dear 20-year-old child that I loved,
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I put a plastic bag on my head and stepped into the shower.
No, it's not what you're thinking,
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You are powerful because you have a stomach that could digest itself,
and because, in your life you'll walk the equator five times
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It was a long time ago, in Summer, when I saw you that first time. I remember the way we’d play tag with our eyes,
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She never believed the fairytales,
princesses and dragons, dashing princes and
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Empirical, satirical magical and mystical,
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The sky is grey outside, the snow is melting on the ground. She glances to her left to see if anyone's around.
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I was looking for a locket
in an orchard by the sea,
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We went walking by the sea and he said I was an angel. The rumbling waves scared me a little; I was so innocent, too small to touch the water.
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1. When I was little, my biggest fears were vampires, clowns, serial killers and sleeping.
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I tapped myself on the shoulder, "Can I ask you something?" I twirled and swayed like the long-lost child for whom I'd searched so long.
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I can see the future, unceasing laughter's song
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My head aches with the dull throbbing bruises of the past. I never realized just how much it hurt, just how heavy guilt is. I still don't understand how your anger was so sunshine yellow and where the sparkle in your eyes c
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Baby girl of four years old
they did not mean to leave you.
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i. My hand fits yours like a jigsaw puzzle,
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She's a spiraling waterfall of dandylions and eagle feathers,
masquerading as a girl who knows where she's going and what she's doing.
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I think: about how you laugh at me.
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i. Wind
She was dancing in the breeze, gliding freely amongst the cherry blossoms
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I read my own poems over and over because I need to feel the pain. It's something to replace the guilt.
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