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7 small words
It's not that I don't love you...
She said with a shake in her voice, a break in her step, a faulter in her stride. It's not that I don't love you... He said on his way out the door, on his way out of their life, on his way to another womans arms. It's not that I don't love you... I said as I stared her in the eyes, knowing all the while that I did, that I only wanted what was best. It's not that I don't love you... He said to the women as she lay on her deathbed,as he tried his best to say his goodbye, only to watch her fade before he could speak his final words. Seven words is all it takes to avoid a lifetime of change. |
awww Q_Q did you write that?
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wow I'm jealous, people on jf are so creative :O
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lol well the only "poetry" i can do is acrostic poems :D
i could never right that^ |
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If you have other works in this style, you may look at your talents from more professional perspective... Cheers! |
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hmmm...Shouldn't they rhyme if they were to be song lrics? Cuz I'm bad at rhyming >_< |
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Did i say rap lyrics? i said song lyrics and they don't have to be with rhymes. Most of the great rock/metal songs don't have any... And specifically this poem, would sound grrrreat when sung... |
Hmmm...I've decided to revive this thread as my personal poetry thread! Expect a lot of late in the day entries, if any, cuz thats when I think of my poems, 4 some reason 0_o.
I stare blankly at the broad smile before me, brown eye's that shine like copper. You twist and turn to a beat that no one else seems to hear, skirt down on your ankles fraying in the wind, and I only watch from the outside. What am I to you? I wonder as I search your smile for the answer. Why do you talk to me? Smile for me? Is it love? No, I say, life is not so fair. But still I smile back. Because I am in love. I'm sure you notice, the faulter in my step, the change in my expressions. I am not who I am with you, I am who I've always wanted to be. And yet you are so very much the same. What am I worth to you, why can't I think straight? Why is it that all I hear is sex, sex, sex, yet when I see you all I can think is holding hands? What does that mean? And why, I ask desperatly, as the intentions behind those brown eye's that shine like copper fall slowly out of my view. Why is it you? My current feelings on love, not directed at a true person as much as my strange way of viewing relationships at my age. I'd rather kiss a girl than skip straight to sex. Is that just because I haven't done these things yet? So, here is how I search myself for answers...Again, i'm not sure it's poetry, but it's symbolism, and it's whats in my heart... |
A poem about how maybe my real emotions only come out on paper. I don't know why...I don't FEEL depressed! I feel happy! but still, I always end up with...well...this.
On the outside, looking in, I smile on those who look down apon me, because they only know me on the ouside as well. They don't know how I think, what I feel, and so they write me off as emotionless, a doll with an ever-fading voice, slowly cascading into the pulls and pushes of the tides of society. I want to cry, but I do not. I want to hate, but somehow I've never learned how, so I simply accept. I want to scream, to yell, to prove that underneath my blank, calculating stare I want nothing more than to be told I am kind. My heart aches for what my head refuses to give; release through words. I am not sad, I am not scarred, so why? why do my words, my writings, always potray a side of me that even I do not know? |
Hmmm...This one won't be much a poem...Think of it as a declaration of my beliefs and opinions on love ^_^
How I love you Love isn't a walk through the park, a first kiss, a starry sky. Love is is lying on a baseball field at night, laughing at the dumb questions you ask each other as you slowly slip into a quiet state of mind where those dumb questions circle over and over again. Love isn't the gleam in her eye, the spark in his smile. Love is sitting on the edge of a street, throwing rocks at a trashcan, talking about the mysteries of life. Love isn't the eighty dollar haircut, the thousand dollar suit. Love is getting drunk together and laughing away your innocence, leaning on each other, just to stop from falling over, sharing in the joined feeling of euphoria and wine and hope. Love isn't the size of your gift, or the size of his car. Love is dancing on a public street together, not caring who stares or what will happen. Love isn't material. Love isn't shallow. Love is simply what you make of it. Those really are some of my ideas of romance. I'm not your classic romantic. I'd take a flury of funny insults going back and forth than a walk on the beach any day. |
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