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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2173556
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2173556
Here it is. Some thoughts from me to you.
Wait without a thing, for you are not ready for anything. Wait without hope, for you are not ready for hope. Wait without love, for you are not Ready for love.

Discover the person they tried to destroy with their purposeful soul rape. Recover the traits you lost. The traits they stole to feed their ego.
The best part, and more often the worst part is that you'll always see the good, and try to nurture it. This is how you allow yourself to be extorted. This is how you allow yourself to be used. See the bad. Consider it, acknowledge it, get to know it.

You are the sun.You are the brightest star, yet these seasonal clouds are allowed to block your shine and release their floods on all the things you love the most. Putting out all the fires that have left ulcers on your hands from trying so hard to keep them lit.

The perfection in imperfection is exactly what everyone misses. To tell a woman that she is beautiful without trying and then shoot down every single effort she makes. Everything that makes her who she is, is suddenly an annoyance, You pick at her "undesirable traits" you have decided she has, until she changes them.
By default. Changing who she is. Until she has no idea who is looking back at her.

The clouds turn black and rage at the accusation that they are than perfect. Snarling into the winds emotions are flying rampantly and the sun hides behind the moon.

The eclipse breeds change.

How is one to grow and learn to be what they were? The storm raged in control too long, the storm grew strong and continued to rage on. tiny voices in the wind beg me to just to hold on. The anxiety, lack of confidence, trust and commitment, waiting for the curtain to fall, praying for the first time, maybe this will be different.
Still have so many that are asking for a chance, some begging for a second. Long drawn out rants about how they didn't mean to wreck it.
All of the best apologies accompanied by tears and actor quality theatrics, but it'll just be a failed attempt to get me on your mattress.

So in this attempt to free the girl you've locked inside, I beg of you, take her place. So something still dies.
© Copyright 2018 Jean R. R. Branson (smallstargazer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2173556