Fly

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I think of you somewhere
Out there
10 minutes in front of me.

My heart flies with you.
I feel it
Stretch to breaking point.

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Phenomenal Woman BY MAYA ANGELOU

Because let’s face it, there have been a lot of poems about you and I am also a very beautiful, clever, kind, loving person who, even if they are not told so much, should learn to love themselves…

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Insecticide

Questions come like flies on a summer’s eve
To settle on me in plagues of glassy blue,
A loud tinnitus hum that will not leave
Despite every damned thing I try to do.
Do you think of me or not very much
Now? Do you worry that my love is spent?
Do you miss my face my hands my touch?
Are the things you say platitudes or meant?
I do not know. I only know they grow
In number, swarming black against my sky.
I arm myself with weapons, watch their flow
Unstoppable procession, who will die
First? Not my love, I know that’s true
I can’t swat it away easily. You?

Dear Layla…a love letter from Eric Clapton to Pattie Boyd

So feeling this at the moment but am too sad about the thought of broken spells. Will any of this ever get any easier?

Dear Layla,

For nothing more than the pleasures past I would sacrifice my family, my god, and my own existence, and still you will not move. I am at the end of my mind, I cannot go back and there is nothing in tomorrow (save you) You that can attract me beyond today. I have listened to the wind, I have watched the dark brooding clouds, I have felt the earth beneath me for a sign, a gesture, but there is only silence. Why do you hesitate, am I a poor lover, am I ugly, am I too weak, too strong, do you know why? If you want me, take me, I am yours…. If you don’t want me, please break the spell that binds me. To cage a wild animal is a sin, to tame him is divine.

My love is yours.
Eric Clapton’s letter to Pattie Boyd

Choices

Just remember,
When you cannot sleep 
It is because you chose not to sleep.
When you are sad
It is because you chose to be sad.
When you miss me
It is because you chose to push me away.

I did not choose any of this:

I chose you.

I have always chosen you.
I will always choose you.

Untitled #17

Hope is the
Rawest kind of pain,
It eats away at you slowly –
Slowly.
Hope watches you rot inside out
Like a corpse
And laughs in your face,
A cruel laugh that echoes
Down stone hallways of spiteful silence.
Hope doesn’t keep you warm,
Offer comfort,
Provide happiness.
Hope is just a lie
A masked beast, the final evil
Kept in a box
Of your own pathetic weakness
Until it has you hung, drawn and quartered
By your own foolish belief,
That things might be different.