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Comet - Tuula Lehtinen , 1985.
Finnish, b. 1956 -
Aquatint, line etching, 40 × 50 cm.
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There's a woman every morning -
Rising with the sun
If I had to guess,
I'd say that she's a chosen one.
She sits with her dear friend -
There may be silence,
I don't know.
I do not know this woman
But this memory I'll know.
I watch her in amazment
Feeling my heart now aglow.
While I tend to be a night owl
She makes me want to see the show.
Soon her lover follows -
Quietly, yet never rude.
He seems to have the same routine
(although, ma'am - he follows his love for you)
#cosmicspacesx#hotel clerk poetry#national park poetry#lovers#strangers#poetry about strangers#strangers in love#love in strangers#poetry
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Ego and pride
You take them to strive
Not even knowing
Your life's on the line.
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Cigarette smoke still fills my lungs,
But quitting seems to be a betrayal to you,
For I know that heaven holds a smoking section,
Filled with stars and the blues
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I pray for the people who inherently crushed the very being of my soul
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I am not just the trophy, but the entire battle at hand.
I will love you ferociously, but the days will arise where no amount of love could penetrate the walls I've built.
I will face the world head on at all times, but I require true compassion and the ability to settle the crushing waves within my soul.
I will teach you the meaning of truly authentic joy & self love, but I am unable to say I've grasped the concept for myself.
I am a mirror, reflecting each and every piece of your aching soul back to you, giving you the tools to enlighten yourself at a rapid pace-
This is my blessing and my curse, a beautiful tragedy at hand
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“Beware of destination addiction: The idea that happiness is in the next place, the next job, or even with the next partner. Until you give up the idea that happiness is somewhere else, it will never be where you are.”
— Unknown
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“I don’t hold on to anything anymore. Pain comes at me and I take it, chew it for a few minutes, and spit it back out. It’s just not my thing anymore.”
— Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
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my soul has consistently been plagued to live only by such means of which pain and suffering restrict me - at least this is a sweet nothing of which i whisper into my own lonesome soul, delicately crafted by yours truly. foolishly, i have existed in the name of adversity - clumsily forcing my souls pieces into places which they have never belonged and attempting to declare it a tragedy, when the real misfortune lies in my ability to weave the strings of fantasy and reality into one contradictory intertwinement. here, i stand with shaking, staggered breath. unsteady. uncertain. this all becomes irrelevant as change approaches, and i beckon her call to leap, anyways.
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"Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better." -Albert Einstein
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"the old story" that's all it is, a story a piece of fiction fabricated by what? who? circumstances? memories? yeah it's really not that strong at all, is it. its just a story.
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