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the new year.
01:28
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Inside of myself, not swimming nor drowning. I’m trotting water to the solemn sound of her jaw unhinging; crackling and popping along with the script that reads our tale aloud. The first kiss meant everything I never had in retrospect; too drunk to hate myself I was that night. Back of hand recall of the burning sensation of my insides; was it love or just the poison in my veins. I’ll never know. But with her eyes so sobering; nobody can ever tell me that she wasn’t anything less than perfect. I’ve been around this town tripping and falling into every misconception, but she’s not one of them and my eyes aren’t really good for spotting these days, but when she held my run down hands I could feel the back of her mind throbbing with passion from last night’s late read. She spilled all of her secrets the moment she flashed that tender smile at me. But she told me them anyways. All run on sentences concluding to the fact that beauty has never cried so much. My heart dissolved with her tears, dismembering my mind and respect for her father. I lost my soft spot for my father figure the day I was old enough to comprehend his blackened heart. The mental abuses making me choke on my own words, enforced by physical upbringing. You’re a disgrace molded by your own father’s hands; I should have told him that. But I’m sick of waiting for the unimaginable. Instead I choose to gamble my time in her hands. And in the kindness of her heart she doesn’t take mine for granite.
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Alex Stewart Trenton, Nova Scotia
I'm just an over emotional poet that's stuck inside his own failures and insecurities, seeking to be understood and heard by anyone who is willing to listen.
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