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Been writing some poetry


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Pretty much as the title says. I write poetry as a sort of therapy, a way to relax and express feelings that I can't work out. I'll post some in here if I can write them. 

 

thoughts on being invisible 

 

invisible 

but not intangible

impact is everything

and more often than not

you wish your absence was more

noticed than your presence

because invisible people

all they want to be is

seen

 

Edited by jebberjabber
spacing error
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different directions 

I never knew what 'rare as hen's teeth' meant

Until I met the real me. 

All those furtive glances at him, and him, even him

and the less furtive ones at her, sometimes her, definitely her 

but 2+2 doesn't make me whole. 

Why am I like this? 

How do you restart something that 

you never knew existed and never started in the first place? 

At least you can own being lost. 

It's a state of mind. 

But I'm increasingly lost every moment I find more of myself 

every thought a new tree in a familiar glade

with everything in different directions from how it used to be. 

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the eventual progression of the not-so-erstwhile straight crush

You know, I'd never seen you with a girl until Friday afternoon.

Of course, that's a broad spectrum. You sure had friends who were girls. So did I.

But the way you looked at Lucy at the party made it different, made it factual, confirmed, and now my heart is deflating

Like a torn whoopie cushion.

I never had any realistic expectation of anything. How was I going to admit you were anything but perfect

when I was losing my grip on my sense of self?

Still, we chatted in the corridors, saw each other at parties where my friends knew your friends, had classes together.

You put your hands on my shoulders once, coming up from behind, and leaned your head on my shoulder excitedly, telling me something.

I must confess I didn't hear it. I was too busy trying not to look at your lopsided grin, the messy curls of your hair, the freckles on your nose I had a compulsion to touch.

I got home that night and thought about your face. I had to try to avoid looking too closely, yet commit it to memory at the same time.

Why was it like this? You were my friend, nothing more (keep telling yourself that)

and these feelings were messed up, they weren't mine, it's not true (lying to yourself now)

That night, I tried everything I could to deny

that I was falling in love with you -

a guy.

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