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Are you okay? Yes I am.. But I wasn't , As I responded to that, Because what else to say, When you aren't, Are you feeling good? Yes I am.. When I wasn't, But how will it help, If I responded for real, Do you need water? Yes I want.. But just shut down, The surrounding chatter, With infinite laughter, I couldn't bear, The noise, Inside me growing larger, Than my voice that was, Shaking my exterior poise, My daughter, Came closer.. As she held my, trembling hand, As she whispered, Mom, it will get better.. My partner, Looked at me, And wanted me to know.. It's okay, Not to be okay, Getting drunk, And throwing up.. Is all part of growing up, Till the part, Where you start loving, Just water again.. My mom and dad, Comforted me,  That although sad as it looks, Things aren't that bad.. As explained by the books, Relationships and people, Are the ones that make you stable, While everything else, Can topple,   Well, there will be loads of trouble, But more than that t

Eyes Unsaid

Those eyes stood unsaid.
Awfully misread.
Tactfully unfed.
Besides when they got wet.
I couldn’t say a word to let.
Them never to look at me.
Like before.
Those eyes were unheard.
Sometimes absurd.
Remorsefully bred.
Besides when they fought the fire.
I couldn’t just let out my desire.
To fall back in them.
Like before.
Those eyes were never the same.
As stories, they told.
Were often cold and brutal.
And as a ritual they foretold..
The yearnings were young and old.
Words just outspoke them.
Not to be blamed.
As they came out to be bold.
When closed they chose.
Not to oppose.
The dream of wanderers.
That paid homage to the cold.


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