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I was young. We were young, Yet we planned our whole future for when we were adults. We were going into 6th grade, middle school.
Pen. Paper. Thoughts. Words. Feelings. Unfinished trains of thought. Wants. Needs. Desires. Plans. All lie within the space between My poetry and me.
Skip after skip pressing forward and rewind, No not an old dvd, these buttons hold my favorite pastime Spotify premium, my one and only true love, holds the key to endless amounts of music
What is it to need something? Some people describe it as what you need to be happy. Others so that your heart keeps drumming. I, however, describe it as intangible. What I need may also be what I want
It was late at night
happiness is a scary thing. it can be taken so easily, ripped away from your grasp, snatched away from your clutch when you’re already so comfortable, so accustomed.
I am sorry, I am a slut. I dream for what I do not have. I crave his touch if only for a second. For his attention to get off of you and on to me.
A day of this and nothing more, that is all that I've to live for. With my lover gone and dog long dead,
He looks at me And sees my love that is asleep. Through the iron cast bars- Of his baby's mansion . He looks at me like I am ripe fruit. And I think that's fine by me.
I have a want inside meNot for anything in particularJust a want, a need, eating away inside me
All everybody wants it to be happy, But how could they strive for such thing when Happiness is the epitome of elusiveness? Then again, some people are more hopeful than others.