Blank. It’s difficult to think when you don’t know what to think about. The cream colored wall doesn’t turn into valleys or beaches or places I would want to visit. They remain still. Just like my state of being.
Stiff. Lying on the top of my roof was pointless. The stimulating clouds that help me create provocative ideas are dull and quiet, vague and indeterminate. Just like my relationship with the man I love.
Naked. The dark turquoise sea is calling me, crying for her unguarded existence. Little did she know that the human she chose is also out in the open—exposed, defenseless. Just like my heart that was torn apart.
Spare. Standing in the woods is dispiriting; the trees were tortured once more. They didn’t have mercy. Just like you. To me.
Interesting blog! Check out mine liifeiinterrupted.wordpress.com 🙂
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I wish I had ability to write in the style, in which you do. Check out my, simple poem “The TRUTH”. http://weknownothing2015.wordpress.com
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‘m also like that sometimes, but I think when you find the style you want, you just need to practice. But also be comfortable with your own. 😉
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Thanks for the support. Looking forward to checking out your blog again. #NOTHINGMatters
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