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Little Miss Apple Pie

We're all artists.

It doesn't matter what you do, what your craft is. 

Whether you're good or bad in it, no one should be able to tell you that but yourself. Nor should you allow anyone, even yourself, to tell you that you're no good. 

For we are all blessed with a talent, by the Greatest Artist of all, and no one can do our work better than we can.

Whether you paint, cook, bake, dance, sing, teach, calculate someone's income tax, sculpt, build and design all sort of things, capture memories in photographs or in words; you are an artist and no one can tell you otherwise.

Whatever it is that you love to do in this life is art; a legacy you will pass on to those you will leave in this lifetime. A series of milestones in your own history.

Our art is whatever it is that makes us happy and passionate about living.

Art. It is not a way of life, but a reflection of who we truly are.
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It had been a while since he last talked to her. She lost all hope, but then he called at the most unexpected time. 

Then...

He asked her, "Do you still love me?" She cried silently. Big, fat tears fell from her big brown eyes. And all she could muster to say was, "God knows," instead of a straightforward 'Yes' because she was frightened that he still won't do anything to keep her if she did.

He misses her. It was evident. But to leave her and keep her at bay was not the way she thought things would end. But it did. They separated, after living as man and wife, they decided to part ways. And so, even though they are still irrevocably in love, both tried to conceal it a little, though it was hard.

Whatever may become of them, they left it for the universe and all the gods to decide for them. Time will tell, they'd tell one another, but their hearts, oh their hearts were screaming each other's name; it ached and long for the other every single day. They wept everyday as if they were mourning from each other's absence.

Despite of this though, they did their best to be civil and remained in contact. Both secretly hoping that the other would remain faithful and in love when he returns.

The night ended. But their strong affection did not. 
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The words have escaped me
A train of thought
Of what I had hoped to tell you
But it no longer matter

I guess
I just realized
That though my affection 
Have never ceased
Never left me

You did so and easily
And so were the words
I was trying to say
They have slipped from my grasp
They escaped me swiftly
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 I wrote you letters
One for each day
For a year
All 365 of them
Folded and sealed them 
But never sent them 
Not even one

With each letter
Sealed with a kiss
I poured my heart 
With thoughts of longing
Of hurt and despair
I wanted you to read them 
And feel my pain
But never sent them
Not even one

For I know
That even if you read them
You won't feel what I feel
Not even a bit

For though you said 
It hurt when you left
Still you turned from me
Without even glancing back

Not even once
You did not.

xx
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Drunk on our brand of whiskey
Reminiscing---
Thinking---
What was...
What is...
Could have been's.


Drunk on our brand of whiskey
Swirling---
Sinking---
Deep down...
Nostalgia...
I yearned for you.

Drunk on our brand of whiskey
I think of you
Closed my eyes and see you
Clearly as I could ever have
Open my eyes
I suddenly see in blur
And finally...
I wept
Drunk on our brand of whiskey.

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August 15, 10:55pm

My eyes have gone weary and tired
It was a long day, 
It had seen places and people
That no ordinary eyes have seen 
Reawakened dormant feelings
That I did not even know
I felt before

My glasses, tonight,
I'll set it down at my side
To lay it to rest 
And
Allow endless scenes flash
As my eyes closed.

Tonight, I must reminisce 
The world and time
I have once traveled to
And
In this journey
May I finally find joy
After the solitude I felt
From pictures painted by words.



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About me

About Me

Mia San Juan. 26. Married. Beauty, Lifestyle, Travel, and Food blogger.

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