This isn’t my neighborhood anymore; This isn’t the place where I start each day – Habitual turn to come up this street I lost awhile back when we moved away But we raised our kids in a house back there, And what seemed important then now seems small: The hopes that we had, and the …
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when time won't help, forgetting hides her face among the reeds and brambles and the cold comes hard
she broke out in fragility, twas written on her face – the best of her ability was covered, just in case the last romance of circumstance should ever come to call – (one should not have a viewing of this type of thing at all) the life of harboring her thoughts seemed right and good …
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When she was almost young, she slept Next to the fields of pure delight; When she went almost out, she heard Of secret pleasures in the night When she felt almost love, she dreamed Of freedom found in ecstasy — Yes, when she almost lived, she lived Just two doors down From me (“Almost” …
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if i just could have seen the truth and known the harm that i had done; i might have fixed the things i broke – i might have been a salvaged one – but every day i broke your heart and caused so much i missed distress; if i just could have loved you more …
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The waves both come and go, but still The shore seems much the same As waves of guilt surround me now But barely touch the blame That I assign to one like me, Who knew where truth began: The needless hurt that can be caused From not much of A man (“Another Kind of …
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She is the one who haunts him still Though years have passed, as e’er they will, Because he knew her worth, but chose The easy way, when it arose He’s looked, but cannot find her like, And now he’s come to know, and rue: That if you quit on love, sometimes, You find that …
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We want to see our flowers grow, But somehow, don’t suspect We won’t get buds of love, When we have watered with Neglect
The afterwards of everything is wondering Why tradeoffs must be made, and friendships lost, And why the night turns silence into shadows That touch the edge of passion turned to frost The afterwards of everything is emptiness, A strange reward for doing what is right: The cold and quiet heart that’s ribbed with darkness, The …
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