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Little Things

I notice little things
a little too much,

I notice the smallest things about a person
a little too often

Like the birthmark at the corner of her neck
isolated and perfect,
my empty hand already writing stories about it.

I notice the jagged lines and dents on his forearm
creating valleys that I wanted to get lost in,
as he stirred his black coffee.
I memorized their rhythm
and just like a snake;
I was fixed in a trance watching his movements.

I notice things like
your off shaped tooth
or the funny scratch on your eye brow

I notice when your eyes twinkle
and when they go dim

I try not to on some days though.
But most days, I enjoy noticing things
Little things.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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Come Pick Me Up.

One night I will wake up just before the clock strikes 3 am

I will roll over and pull my blanket around me;

As I roll over I will find the warm wall your body built

between me and the edge of the bed.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t have my thoughts keeping me awake

instead the drumming of your heart

will sing me a sweet lullaby

until I drift back to sleep.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

it won’t be because the monsters under my bed

are talking loudly, but instead,

it might be because your snoring in my ear stirred me awake

or you pulled the blanket all the way to your side

or just because.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t be searching for my phone to text you about the dream I just had

instead, I’ll wake you, or try to at least, and tell you about it.

One day.

One can hope, that One day.


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow



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I’ll keep wondering.

I often wondered why I couldn’t write about you.

I often day dreamed about your warm breath against my neck,

or the sound of my name (or versions of it) rolling off your tongue,

But I could never quite figure out why I couldn’t write about you.

I couldn’t turn you in to metaphors and exaggeration.

I couldn’t even rhyme your name.

Heck, I couldn’t even figure out the rhythm of your beating heart!

You’d think that after six months I’d have figured it out,

But here I am, still wondering.

Maybe, just maybe;

You are worth more than a clever metaphor and rhyme.

Maybe, just maybe;

You mean more to me than just a poem.

Maybe, just maybe;

I can’t turn you in to poetry, because you’re not a figment of my over active imagination.

Maybe, just maybe,

You’re real.



Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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You and I.

I am a jar of butterflies and moths. I am a novel of ‘Uhmms’ and nervous twitches. I am a balloon of confidence and smart comebacks. I am also a sack of positive soul food. I am a bowl of excited chatter and hysterical rants.I am greedy and love. I am everything that is allowed to be. I am torn and stitched together. I am bruised and flawless. I am hot water in a quivering glass. I am a ticking grenade at a Christmas dinner. I am always fight and win. I am precious moments and heartbreaks. I am everything.  Continue reading “You and I.”

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I Choose You.

Your voice vibrated against my skin.

Each molecule thudding and bursting against themselves creating a mild havoc within the fibre that held the parts of me together. They ran fast through my fingers, making each nerve feel electric at your touch. I’ve never felt a spark before, except this was almost too real. Too electric. Was it possible to be electrocuted by a touch that was so magnifying that you knew it would be the eventual death of you? Was it crazy to want it more each day,despite that it?

I was fascinated at the melody your tongue could muster up. Both through lyrics and against my own. It wasn’t just a moonlight werewolf howling hair standing on your arm, kind of fascination that you managed to drum up in my veins. It was much more.

Although, words seem to fail me at this precise moment. I am positive there will be a day when I could finally describe with much reverie and passion; what it is you’ve brought upon me. Maybe it will be a beautiful damned destruction or maybe it’ll be salvation.


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

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A Thief in the Night

She stole kisses that were only meant to fall on my lips. She stole hugs from the arms that were designed to hold my trembling body steady. Arms that were meant to fit around me. She stole smiles from him and never considered to pass them to me. I was here, away from him, holding a fragment of his heart in my quivering,sweaty palms, blinking away tears as I wondered if maybe; just maybe, you’d given her the bigger parts of your heart for her to hold?


Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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I Wasn’t Expecting That.

And when I love, I will love till the Eskimos huddled together in their igloos hear me pine for you. I will love so fiercely that they will mistake me for a lion. I will love so loudly that you wont be able to hear yourself think. I will shout your name to anyone that will listen and I will confess to them how my veins carry more blood than they should when I’m around you. I will explain with every word in the dictionary; the rush you give me.
To anyone that wont listen, I will show them the kind of love they only see in movies. I will bombard them with kisses from my cherished memories and you, until they can’t breathe and they’re begging me to stop. To anyone that doesn’t believe, I will torment them with pictures of our love until they get sick with jealousy.
And to you, my ever darling love,
To you, I will dance with the grace of a goddess and love you with the strength of ten.
I won’t promise you the sun, moon and stars darling. For I don’t dare to offer you things I’ve no grasp of. I only have my own world to offer you. I will promise you that my whole beating heart that thuds louder and louder as you get closer to me, will be yours. I will promise you all the kisses my lips can ever muster up. I will promise you the biggest bear hug for each time you need one and for each time you don’t.
Yours truly,
Painted Shadow.