Deep in my heart
Is where u exist
Stood thru time passed the test
Since that first date
Soulmate
Genre: Love, Relationship, Romance
Soulmate
by Frank Carl John Wellenstein
Deep in my heart
Is where u exist
Stood thru time passed the test
Since that first date
Soulmate
True love, true trust
A perfectness
Our souls together as one
Till kingdom come
A feeling of forever
Always with u my love
My destiny, My fate
Soulmate
We grow together everyday, every way
My best friend, till the end
All my life
Sharing smiles
Clearing tears
Our love wont wait
Soulmate
Our bodies grow old now
Our hearts still strong
A love forever long
Earth and heavens gate
Soulmate
Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash
Genre: Sad, Romance, Relationship
Solutions
by Julius Wells
Fuck love
Because that other shit is permanent
She said she would hate me forever
And man I’m learning quick
That she really meant it
This feeling is so senseless
This feeling cannot last
This feeling shit is trash
To be feeling shit like this makes me want to be feel my wrist with glass
And slice
But instead I just…
I fill my life with brashness
I feel and hope that it’ll cover up the sadness
And the madness but it fucking doesn’t, it’s endless
And I can’t make sense of why love left me defenseless
From this cold cold world that life gives, and now in listless
I’m feeling like if life providing answers, I really must’ve missed it
You came into my life and made me feel complete
But I never learned happiness on my own, this shit is weak
And I’m somehow even weaker
Because I’m dependent on this thing and I’m searching for it like a creeper
Stalker. Hiding in the bushes looking for you
Hoping I can be whole again, hoping I can renewed
But instead I’m strangely feeling so empty
Love left me with potholes on the road through life and so I’m tripping
What do I fill it with?
How do I cement my path?
I can’t replace this shit with something I do not have
Since love left me, angst has been my tool
But the hole that love left is the size of a fucking pool
So I strive for hate and despair, until I’m fat and full
And I Ignore and avoid the strength of loves pull
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Lines keep us in order.
If we can keep ourselves between the yellow and the white,
pass when it’s dotted and stay patient when it’s solid,
we will arrive at the solemn promise
of shelter from disorder.
Genre: Romance and Relationship
Lines
by Matt Griesinger
Lines keep us in order.
If we can keep ourselves between the yellow and the white,
pass when it’s dotted and stay patient when it’s solid,
we will arrive at the solemn promise
of shelter from disorder.
But that shelter is mythical.
Magical, sure. Practical, maybe. But all the while, hypocritical.
See, the shelter doesn’t exist.
The mythical, seemingly magical, possibly practical, definitely hypocritical shelter
is what new fathers, holding a bundle of six pounds, yearn for,
what cracked out junkies burn for,
what ivory tower academics press you to learn for,
and what once drunken sluts now bored housewives turned for.
The myth of safety in numbers, safety in lines
is pervasive and attractive.
It is invasive and reactive
In nature.
And I don’t mean nature in the form of the waves on the beach.
The waves that destroyed the dunes
and the wooden stairs leading to my house.
The stairs, dampened from perpetual high tides that never returned to low,
that led to a balcony.
In five years, the waves will destroy the stairs.
In ten years, the waves will destroy the balcony.
In twenty years, the waves will still carry the Memory.
The Memory lives on the incalculable shape on each individual wave.
The waves carry no lines, no safety, and no shelter.
They carry the memory of my beautiful blonde running down the stairs.
My beautiful blonde smiling up at me on the balcony.
My beautiful blonde bathed in innocence and swimming with grace.
She is the Memory.
As She walks on the sands,
the commands and demands
of a life in worship
strike repeatedly with the waves.
So when She changes hands, I feel the weight of the laying of the hands
as I realize that while I leave footprints in the sands of time,
She leaves footprints across my soul.
As I leave footprints for forlorn and shipwrecked brethren,
She becomes a veteran of my soul
as She lifts the oppression
and shows me pieces of heaven.
She lives without lines and provides
none for me.
Instead, She divides what I knew and collides two views
as She decides on a life outside the lines.
We will reside in the world of the Memory.
My beautiful blonde shining in the ocean.
Me, Her hero in the strife, at work building a life,
watching over Her and Her innocence,
Her poise and Her grace.
There are no lines. There is no order.
Only the living Memory.
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