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Sudden Mysteries in the Mystery Tea House

This is the place I love the most as I lounge
On a dark leather seat, cup in one hand
Phone clutched in the other as we sit
Talking about nothing, enjoying the day

This is the place I shared with you
A quiet place, full of scents and sound
And now the buzz of the phone in my hand
Signalling words from the word on my arm

This is the place I feel most calm
Soothed, though stunned inside my soul
As you smile and chat to me, a table
Between me and you, but now a gaping chasm

This is the place you burned me inside
As we decided to leave, and I insisted
That I pay for mine and you for yours
You noticed my silence as we walked out the door

This is the place that still remains mine
And your cruel word linger only to remind
Whilst you have been tarnished, by saying things unkind
The Mystery Tea shop shall stay forever divine

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I wrote this particular poem for uni, and it won best poem at an open mic night, but what do I know

When light is cold and warmth is cruel
Steel is home and blue is feeling
And there is no relief for those crying
Not for hedonists nor for those kneeling No way to stop this hopeless feeling
Clockwork workers, silently bleeding
Day in, day out and never ending
Always wanting but never needing
Clockwork people in plastic cities
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They lie and cry and keep on going And know they have no chance of healing

Good Things Come In Threes (or that one time I wrote a poem about murder)

The first time you died was when you met her
You came home and I saw the light in your eyes My smile is fixed as you describe her work
And I could feel the fires of your love for me die

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The second time you died was with her in the car The crash, then the funeral, you stood; a shell
You died a death inside, and I knew if you could
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I did not weep till late at night, but my love for you would stay
The third time you died there was nothing for me
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I did not weep for you, my love, I just let you fade away

I have no excuse, I was very depressed when I wrote this

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
But the band keeps playing on
And the dancers keep on twirling
As their shoe soles turn crimson
My blood type's AB positive And I'm positively sure                         I wish the only blood that's spilling  Would be mine across this floor
My eyes drift close, I'm failing           The band's melody begins to waver
And the dancers dance more slowly    To this new melancholy flavour
My lady beckons me closer                My cheek rests on the sticky floor    She's finally come to collect me          And set me free from this life's chore
Yet my heart does not feel joyous    Only sorrow has made it crack     Though all awaits me is more pain      I'll give anything to go back
This is how this chapter ends
But there’s still more here to write
I’ll pick myself up off this floor   
This novel won’t end tonight

I'm bleeding on the dance floor
And the band keeps playing on
But I'm twirling with the dancers
For now just managing to…