Prompt challenge voting :)

Please read each of the following poems, and PM me with TWO votes for who you want to win. 1st place(I will give 10 points) and 2nd place (5points).

Example:

I vote for #1
then #2

Winners will be announced on Thursday morning.

Good luck all.

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#1
Title: The Husband's Secret

Tell me tomorrow my sweet darling
to look again through the keyholes
When dreams fall apart
And there's nothing left of yesterday
But every slamming door...

Tell me tomorrow my dearest darling
To look again through the keyholes:
the vision of you rearranging furniture
seeking silence,
After every slamming door...

Tell me tomorrow my lovable darling
to look again through the keyholes:
The vision of Africa screams echoing in my ears,
"Don't sing our song"
Before every slamming door...

Tell me tomorrow my sweet darling,
to look again through the keyholes:
The vision of a downloaded child
becoming the book thief of our love.
And I, in front of every slamming door...

Tell me tomorrow, my dearest darling
to look again through the keyholes
Tell me tomorrow, my lovable darling
That what my ears and heart yearn to hear,
"I still dream of you."

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#2
I still dream of finding myself

I have reoccurring dream
where I believe keys
are in my pants ,
but my pants
are lost and so
is my vehicle
I wake up unrested
and feel like a lost
naked soul

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#3
Serpents of Books

Cloaked in ebony ink-

I crossed over reality
when chapter two fell
into my lap like a cold
splash of spilled water.

Disguised exclamation marks-

The crescendo of chapter
seven left me spellbound
into the night, when Gabriel
sprouted his wings while
lucifer spewed false truths
and innuendos.

Vandalism of the mind-

My iris's became violated
at the ending finale,
my fingerprints matched
the thief of the authors
tainted, hard back cover.

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#4
Nothing left, but dust

Nothing left of yesterday,
but memories of what we shared,
The times you looked my way
as if you really had cared,
The wrinkles they've found you
and covered your sad face.
To your nature you were true
until you had fallen from grace
As light has turned to dark
seems joy has turned to sorrow
dust has settled on its mark
I hope it rains tomorrow.

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#5
The little orange Tree

It grows but it gives no fruits
Its soil is barren, infertile
Not even the bees come near
Because its branches nor leaves
have flowers to attract them.

A day for him feels like a year
Where he withers in sadness.
Not even the rain, his friend,
Has time to pay him a visit.

But one day, while in his garden,
A woman approached him,
She looked at his yellow leaves
And she cut them.

The little orange tree was groom
Till bald,
She stripped him out of his roots
Till he felt lost.

Then the woman moved him,
She gave him a new home, a new garden.
Where the soil is full in nutrients
And the water is abundant
Now the little orange tree has fruits.

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#6
Title: Silent Violence

I still dream of escaping
to a place where silence reigns:
where the screams and pleas
of battering rams against chests and faces
that my father vents his spleen through,
will no longer need be a secret

I still dream of escaping
to a place where the silence reigns:
where I don't have to again look
through the keyhole of every slamming door
to see what the breaking of bones looks like,
to hear them snap

I still dream of escaping
to a place where silence reigns:
Where people don't sing our songs of violence;
where a childhood broken can't fit on a memory stick,
downloaded, by evil men for evil purposes -
I am not a child anymore, never have been

I still dream of escaping
to a place where silence reigns:
Where every bruise and broken bone
proves my endurance, not my weaknesses;

Tell me, Tomorrow, can I even reach you,
or is this a fool's journey where dreams fall apart?
No matter what answer you have left to give,

I won't give up on seeking silence
I won't give up on seeking silence
I won't give up on seeking silence

Because Violence is all I've ever known
Please, just give me some Silence

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#7
Through Dusty Eyes:

I know its eavesdropping to look
through the keyhole on two people
in love when one's a stranger and
the other lives in your heart. But love's
such a fickle thing and games like that
are far too complicated to play.

You see, it's just one thing when
they are talking while rearranging
furniture and something entirely
different when they are kissing by
the fire. Look again though, tell me
tomorrow and wish me luck when
I whisper through tears that I still dream
of yesterday.

I miss the way things were then.

Don't sing our song to her between
flickering flames and wondering hands,
don't give her my hot tea or read her
those hand me down poems you wrote
for me first. Even remembering all those
slamming doors and random fights over
nothing at all don't make me want
anything better or different.

I know it's eavesdropping to look
through the keyhole in most
situations, but is that still the case
when you're just a doll on a shelf
bought for a girl you no longer know?

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#8
Chapters Beyond the Grave

Poetry peeks through
the keyhole of a
dead writer's past,

fumbling fingers
look again at the
life of a man who
slammed doors in
his own face yet
yearned for
someone (anyone)
to announce that
the thorns
restricted in his
rib cage are only
permanent if you
allowed them to
grow roots -

they twist
like a barbed
wire fence
beneath a tombstone
yet his words still
ache to be felt

again and
again and
again.

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Good luck everyone, and don't forget to vote!

4 votes in so far - keep voting people - this could be anyone's win!!

Come on guys, vote! If there's still time left. Time zones </3. (It's 17:30 Thursday over here, haha)

Leaving this open until tomorrow? Only have 6 votes in and all varied.

If you haven't already voted, please vote.

Thanks.

3 way tie at the moment, with a very close 5th place..

Will leave this open through the day and hope to announce a winner tonight, please vote if you haven't already done so.