thank you for leaving the poetry
so if i want to read it i can
i never do anymore, but i could
no one ever knew it was for me
glad my days in your dark corner
are finally over and done with
never liked corners or second place
maybe that poetry wasn’t for me
since you obviously weren’t for me
perhaps you just said it was mine
the way you said you were mine
when you never really were
but, regardless, the poetry
is a thing of beauty and a joy
for any who might happen upon it
needing to feel passion’s fire
or love’s tender warm embrace
i don’t think i’ll read it anymore
i'm tired of pain, anger, lies
and those bewildering questions
that baffle my mind, stab my heart
but thank you for at least having
enough respect to leave it for me
or.... whoever you wrote it for
Thoughts of one tired of the lies and deceit and finally taking a stand, yet the written words breathe fire and passion and could still warm the heart. In sense handwringing, anguish yet an inner resolve. Hope you are okay...
You released it - now recycle it into beautiful origami from your own fingertips and send all hell break loose in a tailspin, lean forward, look into the mirror, inhale deeply and kiss your image...
Love Always,
Sage
Reviewed by Tiana ~ (Reader)
Reviewed on February 29, 2008
This one really got me, Belle ... I hope this is just your wonderful writing and not something you are going through ... I've missed you, call me when you can ... Love and hugs - T
...perhaps pages...poetry...all stamped...return to sender...knowing somewhere inside...a postal box will never be found...nor a return.
poignant yet beautiful poetry La Belle...
John
I can feel the pain of this one deep in my soul and crossing up into my heart, I have been the writer and the receivor of the writes and either way when love's intense emotions cross the line...pain is always the end result.
big hugs to you Belle
Fee
Hundreds of excerpts from the archives of the Narcissistic Abuse Study List regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Love tinka
God bless you, my friend. Kathy
nice work, La Belle...
this is so sad, yet I feel your spirit lifting a bit.
Much peace, love, and light to you,
Amber "V"
love,
Ron
Be always safe,
Karen
You released it - now recycle it into beautiful origami from your own fingertips and send all hell break loose in a tailspin, lean forward, look into the mirror, inhale deeply and kiss your image...
Love Always,
Sage
poignant yet beautiful poetry La Belle...
John
Carole~
Georg
big hugs to you Belle
Fee
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D