Children/YA/Family, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Rictameter – 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2 – beg/end same, Writing

Notable Quotes May Part Two #pinterest #quotes 


Happy Month of May! We are midway through and sometimes I feel as if time passes so fast. Today was one of those days. 

On one hand it was my Great-godmother’ a funeral. She was 98 years old and passed way last Sunday from heat failure. She had pretty great health and was in her home until she was 96 and had only been in her newest care home about a year. She did finally think of it as her second home.

 I had the privilage of knowing Evelyn both as someone who was another Grandma to myself and my two brothers, probably until I was about 21 years old and she became a good friend after that. I think she did most of the talking but I never minded. I enjoyed sending her letters and she was someone I loved to share my poetry with, sometimes short stories, even some interviews I thought she would find entertaining (etc) for the past few years. Let it be said, writing letters and sending cards with a note saying your thinking of someone, is a dying art.

Her funeral was sad but also happy as she is now without pain or suffering.  After years of smoking (even though she did quit) she succumbed to lung cancer which lead to heart complications. I’m thankful for all the time I and my family had with her. 

On the other hand, today was my Dad’s 60th Birthday and my mom was gracious to cook a large meal for about twenty of us who celebrated his day. We drank lots of wine and ate all my Mom’s excellent food and had a big happy birthday cheesecake with sparklers and 60 years on the cake for my Dad (he’s gluten free so usually it’s icecream cake so cheesecake was nice change.)

I talked with some of my Dad’s colleagues and friends and spent a lot of time in the kitchen my brothers and my youngest brother’s girlfriend talking about weddings as we each have one coming up very soon for friends. And I get along very well her and like her a lot. We are different but very much the same in many ways so Nathan, better keep this one she’s amazing! 

Perks of sitting in the kitchen at the “kids table” was being near the wine, the mascoto my Mom and I love and some red Malbec that was a bit dry, but made better by adding punch ie. making a sangria mixture. 

Good conversation and house full of people, I’m glad my Dad enjoyed his birthday and hope on Mother’s Day my Mom can rest. I thought of my grandma and my friend Evelyn, thought how very much she would have enjoyed this celebration or any celebration likewise — the life of the party. 

I do know Evelyn is in Heaven  enjoying parties and celebrations that don’t leave a Mom or wife exhausted and are not subject to human frailities tiredness, stress etc. that comes with planning such an event. A big reason to appreciate mothers like mine and Evelyn who sacrifice (d) to make a loved one’s Birthdays special, 

As I close a line from a Tennyson poem “I’ll see my pilot face to face, when I have crossed the bar.” 

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Happy Mother’s Day! 

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Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

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Credit: Adventures In The Wild

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Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Grandpa’s Fish Pond #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks too Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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Credit: Sora Sangano – http://www.unsplash.com

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Phallon watched the fish swim in the pond his Grandpa had installed in his backyard. He enjoyed visiting his Grandpa each Saturday. Grandpa had put the pond in because young Phallon loved the fish so much as a toddler; ‘fishes’ had been his first word. 

Now he sat with Grandpa who asked him about school and of course the girls in his school. Uncomfortable, Phallon wished Grandpa didn’t ask him about that. 

Grandpa simply laughed,”Phallon, I’m only teasing you. It’s good you have friends who are girls and that there are girls you like. This Jennifer, have you asked her out?”

Phallon’s face turned red, “Yeah we’ve gone to a movie together and bowling. I want her to be my girlfriend but her parents say she’s too young to have a boyfriend.” 

Grandpa nodded a smile on his face, “You’ll find the right one when you’re older. When I saw your Grandma the first time, my heart lept out of my chest. I wonder if I will ever meet that right girl of yours and see you marry her?” 

Phallon felt uncomfortable again, “Why wouldn’t you be there Grandpa? You’re only eighty-one?” 

Grandpa patted Phallon’s hand then squeezed it, “You know, my boy, I’ve been sick a long time. It’s a battle I’ve mostly conquered, but my strength is waning these days.When you get married someday, think of your old Grandpa, okay?” Phallon nodded feeling a lump in his throat.

Two-years later Grandpa succumbed. Phallon was sixteen and felt raw inside. He returned to the fish pond in Grandpa’s  back yard. He noticed the fishes were floating and the reality of life made tears wet his cheeks. In the mess of the last two weeks including Grandpa’s funeral, no one had remembered to feed the fish. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: Fiction – Her One #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. 

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Credit: http://www.pixebay.com

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(I truly meant for this to be Flash Fiction, but the story just developed. Sorry about the way – over word count.) 

Grandma June huffed at Natalie, her granddaughter visiting her at home.”You’re not getting any younger, you’re thirty-eight. You can’t barely have babies anymore!” 

Natalie rolled her eyes at Grandma June,”Gran, I’m an elementary school teacher. I like going home and not having to worry about kids.” 

June sighed,”It was that man, you were supposed to marry. He’s a thief and stole your heart; I’m right aren’t I?” 

Natalie ignored June’s question. She hated when her Grandma or anyone, talked about Christopher. She’d never admit he was her one. 

He had been since she was in grade ten and Christopher an attractive senior in high school. It was when he had first asked Natalie out. They’d broken-up, having had incompatible lives with Christopher away at university soon after. 

Then, seven-years-ago, they’d ran into each other and started talking and dating again. Natalie had convinced herself this was finally it. Sadly, a few weeks before the wedding, Christopher had disappeared; the memories were agony for her. 

—–

Two-week’s later, Grandma June called Natalie up to invite her to a wine and cheese night she was hosting for her neighbours. She had tried to decline but June was adamant Natalie attend. 

She arrived at her Grandma June’s surprisingly lively wine party, in jeans and a white t-shirt. She had barely bothered to apply makeup as Natalie had come from the gym and was worn out. 

“Oh you came,” Grandma June said excitedly, approaching Natalie as she let herself inside. She hugged June and kissed her cheek, as June poured Natalie a large glass of red wine and filled her plate with bread and cheese. She winked at Natalie and left her alone in a small sitting room to rest before joining the other guests. 

“Natalie?” A deep voice said. She turned on the sofa towards the sitting room door. Christopher’s voice shocked her, she had almost doused herself in red wine. His familiar timber filled Natalie with great pain. She peered up at him feeling raw, as if he’d only left her yesterday without explanation. 

Tears began dripping down Natalie’s cheeks; she was crying and couldn’t stop herself. Christopher immediately sat down on the sofa beside Natalie and pulled her close; he wiped her tears away with his thumb. She tried to jerk out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her move. 

“I’m not letting you go, ever again,” Christopher swore.”I can’t explain much about why I had to leave you, only that I didn’t have a choice.” 

Natalie shoved him hard, “You have nothing more to say, nothing at all?” 

Christopher was noticeably upset, “I told you I worked as an IT consultant. But I could never tell you or anyone who I worked for until recently. I worked for Special Forces in the army and I was called out to a job. It’s the only thing I can’t about. The job lasted years, and I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone. We saved countless lives, but it was awful what I did to you and being without you. I’m sorry.” 

Natalie rubbed her swollen eyes, “You’re a liar Christopher. You could’ve mentioned something, anything. What do you want now? To stay for a while and then leave?To rip me apart again?” 

Christopher buried his face in his hand, before gazing up at her: “I’m out now Natalie. I swear to you I work for regular businesses now, nothing to do with Special Forces or the army. I’ve no more secrets other than experiences of war and blood. I came back here for you, I even moved into a house on your Grandma June’s street. I hoped somehow, you and I could be together again. I love you.” 

Natalie made a sound of frustration. Emotions of both anger and feeling relieved assaulted her. Despite her anger at Christopher, Natalie knew inside, there would never be another man for her but him. 

To Christopher’ surprise, Natalie moved to sit in Christopher’s lap and be closer to him, to breathe in how delicious he smelt. 

“Marry me now and we can do whatever celebration our families want later. I’m still mad at you Christopher but you’re it for me. I’ve always loved you and always will. If you can be with me and never leave me like that again, I can forgive you.” 

Christopher nodded at Natalie, saying: “I promise.” He held Natalie tightly and kissed her lips hungrily

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the sitting room door and Grandma June walked in, a smile on her face. June’s boyfriend Nigel was with her and so was the local United Church minister. 

Natalie looked at Christopher, “Did you do all this?” 

Christopher shook his head, squeezing Natalie tight and kissing her cheek. He pulled out a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring set from his pocket. He slid the engagement ring on Natalie’s finger, and Grandma June handed Natalie a ring which had been her Grandfather’s wedding ring. 

June smiled at Natalie and Christopher, a gleam in her clever blue-eyes. All was at it should be, she thought as her and Nigel witnessed her granddaughter’s wedding ceremony. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: A Million Times Better #3LineTales #nonfiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Sony of Only 100 Words, our gracious host of #3LineTales:

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Credit: Jennifer Pallian via UpSplash

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Everyone either loves or hates fruit bread and more often than not, this stiff and solid rock like cake which sits in your stomach as if you’ve ingested a stone, is detested by many people. No matter the tradition or reason we bake/eat fruit bread at Christmas, it is a custom many of us wonder about; I can honestly say, however, there is only one fruit bread in the world I love because it tastes wonderful and is nothing like any fruit bread I’ve ever tasted before, or will ever taste again. 

Grandma’s fruit bread wasn’t like traditional loaves of fruit bread because it was soft and tempting as I believe, any kind of bread should be; inside her bread was sugared and candied fruits much like traditional fruit bread, except my Grandma’s fruit bread was melt in your mouth and we used to toast a small slice or two for breakfast during the holidays and have it with becel; the buttery, sweet, soft bread was delicious and makes me hungry thinking about it; Grandma’s fruit bread was not traditional fruit bread — it was a million times better.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Couplets - rhyme and have same meter, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Prompt: Poem – Couplets – “Grandma’s Terrible Secret” #amwriting #poetry #writing 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt. 

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Credit: Andre Gova

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Grandma passed away this year; she, 

Left me to go through her house see —

Everything her life gathered ’round. 

Those last few years, she wasn’t sound. 

She gathered things seemingly odd, 

A variety of objects broad. 

The thing she loved the most was dolls, 

Every room was full of them, dolls —

With their bodies thrown haplessly, 

Heads cut clean, hair removed aptly. 

Such nightmares I’ve had since seeing, 

Dolls heads around her house pleading, 

Wanting to have their bodies back. 

Eyes blinking scarily, sacked —

No found dignity, bald heads gleam. 

In the darkened living room see —

Every eye staring at me, creeps —

Sound of scratching at night, weeping, 

I know not what do with their bodies,

Or heads displayed as trophies sought. 

I hear the sounds they make, they beg, 

Their souls they say away were led. 

Grandma wasn’t merely collecting —

Dolls heads to display and to set, 

Upon her wood mantle to admire. 

Many girls made dolls so expired. 

Collecting young girls made them all —

Dolls she tore apart I’m appalled.

This horrid woman who read me books, 

Where witches were evil, looked —

As hags, disfigured, monsters known, 

I didn’t see how such wholesome —

Looks could hide a beast, a creature —

So evil, I’ve nightmares featuring, 

My lovely Gran, demon concealed. 

I burned her house down so to seal, 

Her evil magic never to —

Live again as long as through —

My own light magic prevent, such —

Wickedness; that which is unjust. 

Will never live again to kill, 

Is dead and gone, and will not kill. 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The Unshedlike Shed #flashfiction #amwriting #fall


Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Phylor

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Matt never talked about the shed in his yard. In the past he’d been rude about it, if I asked him. But I’d never seen the shed door half-open before.

He gazed at me steadily as he often did now. One day five-months ago I caught him staring at me and he blushed.

Now, he’s trying to tame the wisps of hair from my face, but neither of us had made a real move. 

 “Why is the shed half-open?” I asked.

 “The basket in the shed door, it’s for us. We’re going on a fall picnic,” Matt said proudly.

I blushed, “Where are we going to have the picnic Matt?” 

“In the shed, Aubrey.” 

“But we’re not allowed in there remember? Your Dad said never.” I reminded him.
“It was one of my Dad and my Mom’s favourite places when Mom was alive. I told my Dad I was taking you on a picnic and he told me to clean up the shed for you; Grandma helped with the decore.” 

I grinned.

The shed was rustic-sheek, painted in soft ocean-toned colours. There was a loft up top with a queen mattress, thick white cotton sheets, a navy duvet, and several accent pillows.

There was a huge white window with a navy cushion to read on. The shed even had a small kitchen with mini- appliances and a metal and wood island for two, along with a washroom with a matching tiled shower.

I gazed at the ash wood floor as the sun danced across it and back to Matt.”This is amazing! You did all this for me?” I asked overwhelmed, tears slipping down my cheeks.

That’s when Matt took my chin in his hand and kissed me. It was the first of a lifetime of kisses and memories in our unshedlike hideaway. 

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My apologies. I think this piece is a bit long, but I can’t seem to cut more right now. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fiction, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Photo Challenge: Poem – Cascading Etherees – “Sleep Walker”


Thanks to Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie for hosting.


Water Girl Brook Shaden Photography
Brooke Shaden Photography

Resplendent woman in her ivory gown,

Treading downstairs in sleep, not knowing,

Dreams guide her graceful body through,

A darkened house, unaware —

Their mama walks in sleep,

Following her story,

Playing out in,

Dream –

Scapes.


She’s,

But a —

Waif as she,

Opens the front,

Door, padding barefoot,

Unto the beach, squishing,

Sand between her toes, walking,

To the ocean’s shore, where waves pull,

Lantern in hand, believes she’ll become,

A mermaid, as she wades in waters deep.


Waves brush her thighs, makes her gown sodden, wet.

She doesn’t realize anything is wrong but —

She keeps wading into the ocean,

Despite, the cold and water,

Trying to suck her down,

She keeps walking,

Knowing that,

Reward,

Waits.


Waist,

Deep she,

Kicks off from,

Sandy bottom,

She floats, her lantern —

Lights the way, as water comes,

Up to her waist and past her —

Chest as she swims, dreaming she has,

Her mermaid’s tale, joins her sisters in —

Ocean, she greets them, soaring in the waves.


From the house, a small girl watches, mama sink.

Tears roll down, soft cheeks; mom doesn’t return.

“Stay away from the ocean girl,” her —

Grandma always warned them.

Mama needed freedom,

Didn’t actually die.

Daughter knows she,

Swims in deep,

Peaceful

Now.


Girl,

Is sad,

But knows her –

Most loved mama,

Goes to happier place,

To ocean’s froth, she’s free.

Gran cooks pancakes, strawberry —

Sauce and whipped cream; mama’s favorite,

Girl watches with delight how mermaids play,

Sees Mom flip jade tail, waving to her girl.


©Mandibelle16 (2016). All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Planting Seeds #amwriting #flashfiction #gardening


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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The Storyteller’s Abode – Louise

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Gertrude is a beautiful child with chubby round cheeks. Her hair is the white-blond children get from being in the sun. She is three and likes to show you how old she is with her fingers.

I came to visit her Grandma from my farm, and walking to her Grandma’s door, I spied Gertrude hunched over in the garden. She has her Grandma’s big floppy hat on to keep the sun out of her eyes. 

Gertrude carefully picks beans. She has a look of concentration on her face and she giggles when she finds the right bean to pick.

Her Grandma notices me outside and comes out to greet me. We both gaze at Gertrude picking beans and hear her every laugh every once in a while.

“I told her not to pick the really fat ones,” Gertrude’s Grandma Joyce says to me. “She’s so careful about which beans she picks now. She’s only made it a quarter way down the first row.”

I laugh and wave to Gertrude’s Grandpa, Arthur, digging in the large garden.

“Your planting seeds,” I tell Joyce. 

“Seeds?” 

“Yes, in your granddaughter. Maybe, she’ll grow up and garden too.” 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Quotes, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Tanka - 5,7,5,7,7 syllables, Word High July, Writing

Poem: Tankas – ” Beyond Fondness” #wordhighjuly #poetry #tankas #amwriting



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http://www.pinterest.com

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Humaling, fondness.

Of extreme quality, 

Fond for certain friends.

Caring, great deal for family.

Beloved Aunt; Grandma, niece.

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Searching deeper seems, 

Such fondness as humaling.

Means fondness further.

Not merely affection heartfelt, 

Special love given, which is free.

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Not feelings, fondness —

For your relations or friends.

Humaling, loving, 

Your other half, their presence.

Emotions driving deep love.

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True love; which locks two.

A mysterious connection felt,

Never the same with —

Anyone ever existing.

Causing heart beats so in sink.

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Time may alter love.

Authentic love, means no limits.

Makes you speechless, soft.

Sore secrets in open air.

Your lover, a bearer of your strife.

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You know their secrets.

Share in joys and sorrow too.

Extreme fondness hurts.

It’s beneath the surface shown, 

Hurts and trials woven with love.

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Release one thread; help —

Your kindred spirit, beloved.

Sleep not in anger.

Satisfied; in love ’til death.

Not only fondness; in love.

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Your piece of puzzle, 

Missing until a fated, 

Day; you find them lost.

Together complete a circle, 

Forever, love beyond bliss.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.