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Page Four


Love cannot be expected from someone who knows not how.
But who are we to say what love is?
We know only what we perceive love to be.
Our own beliefs are our guide....our own emotions are at stake.
We can only be ourselves in the most broadest sense and present our love to someone who will hopefully accept it.



"Tommy can you hear me?"
"Tommy, hear me call you?"
Tommy, you and I, not many know but those that do understand our terms.
On a birthday morn, you showed yourself, appearing as 2 swollen eyes and pain, as my gift.
Tommy, why did you come to my "door"?
Why did you have to plant your seeds of disease in my head?
I have staved off the threats of deaths you have laid claim, for almost 3 years now and , yet, you are my constant companion, the source of my being and not wanting to Be.
Tommy, I have not let you make me into dust, not yet anyway but you have still taken my life from me.
I walk dead among the living, hiding your identity behind my sunglasses, keeping you a secret as a lover would a mistress.
The big difference here is that you are spurned but refuse to leave.
Give me back what I had.
A pact with the devil is your price and the terms are getting hard not to contract.
How much longer will this earthly Hell be mine Or shall I be forced to barter it for Hell everlasting?



Listless thoughts crowd my head...Imaginary objects fill my hands...Flowing down waters blue,rustling in trees green (like your eyes)
I start to unfold...Then realizing thoughts makes sense and you can really feel those imaginary objects who seem to oh so run for your life.
But there is no fear, for you are beside me...at least enough to where I can see beyond listless thoughts and imaginary objects.



In The Quiet Alone,

Mind Screams

Shattering Peace,

Single Branch Breaks



I see all the years that have past, slapping me in the face
Much regret, Only to remind me of things, out of survival, I forced my mind to erase
The joy and jubilation of "again" is overwhelming but is coupled with "When",
"If only..", is not an answer that I can swallow, "But" is one forced upon me,
"Because" I have to understand and weep myself to sleep.
My feelings, my heart, are at stake and I realize now, that there is doubt; Too much time has come about.
I see no hope, your terms that have grown,
"I agree"
I laugh to cover my moan
Time, the price of my individuality, has returned to claim it's loan. I am guilty but
A forever Mental Mistress is something I doubt that I can be.


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Poetry by:
Jenny and Pamela

Imagery by Pamela

Jenny and Pamela

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