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caitlan 2d
April 23.
My birthday is tomorrow;
I took off work to celebrate.
My boyfriend and I are going to get lunch.

“Administrative Professionals’ Day” is today.
My coworkers get a cookie text
From my manager—
That’s an 8x8 square of cookie
Topped with saccharine frosting
And edible paper.

The printer jams.
Someone heats up fish for lunch.

Time drags on.

On my way home,
I pass by the cemetery.
A woman sits at the edge of the garden
Where her baby is buried.
She adjusts the Easter decorations she set out last week.
Pastel-colored eggs, a small rabbit.

Near her, his younger brother wanders about
Picking dandelions and
Hopping over graves and
Waving to passing cars.
The child touches his mom’s shoulder
And points out a bird.

They look at it together,
Then get in the car.

Time passes by.

Tonight, I think I’ll make pasta for dinner.
There’s half a jar of red sauce in the fridge
Perfect for one meal.
There won’t be any leftovers,
But that’s fine.

After, I sit at my computer.
My friends are around to play games tonight,
So I nurse a *** and Coke
And hunt ghosts
Until my eyelids grow heavy.

Time flies.

Finally beneath cool sheets,
I reflect on today—
April 23.
My birthday is tomorrow;
I took off work to celebrate.

My boyfriend and I are going to get lunch.
a song was played
some tears fell
some memories was remembered
i was in that phase
i was in that place
waiting
almost crying
but still loving
caring
there are four decisions
but the f*
you made me wait
you made me give
you made like this
thanks it was forty dollars
no need to pay for it
i got it
i regret it
i think
that's life
hope your shoots bounce back
Louise May 10
Sometimes, I sit and think about how perfect some things are. Like nature.
Sometimes, I stop and admire how perfectly orchestrated some things are.
Sometimes, I think about how I think you came to my life at the perfect time.
Sometimes, I realize that maybe we go beyond time itself, like sun does to night.
Sometimes though, I'd think that maybe you're just another lesson, yet of what?
Sometimes too, I'd sit with myself and ask,
haven't I learned my lesson? But there's you.
Maybe we are made to be together,
like two perfect puzzle pieces made to fit.
Maybe we are meant to be for each other,
like post-modern world and a pile of bills.
Maybe I was born to make you feel better,
like a childhood snack that you still eat.
Maybe you were made to make me believe,
that everything has a reason for being.
Maybe we are meant to be together,
like eating mango in the heat of summer.
Maybe we are meant to simply meet,
like waves to shore, to touch each other.
the scar is big
it is bleeding
the wound is real
it is aching
i haven't reach fifty
i feel like sinking
i always thought i am fine
but no i am not okay
it is bad to blame
it is hard to be ashamed
those scars where really there
you just made up
another
or it is burning up
Louise Apr 19
What of languages, if you only need a few words to ask how a friend is today?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to ask a vendor how much their goods are?

What use are the multiple languages you speak, when you can't use a single one of them to say what you feel?

What about the new language you taught me, if you only speak to me when I do? What good is it, if I were to become mute?

So what of languages, if you can't use them to ask me how I am today?

So what of your dialects, if I couldn't ask you how much your attention is,
or if I could even buy it?

So what use are the multiple languages we speak, if we can't use a single word, a sentence, not a single language to say what we feel?

What about the new language you taught me? Do we let it die or make new jokes?
How good it will be, if they become true?
Kamustá? ¿Cómo estás? Kûmusta? Com estàs?
Louise Apr 8
They are the drops of rain in an island
as you ride through a storm on a motorbike.
The coconuts falling down your head
on a quiet beach.
They are the songs and poems
addressed to or meant to attack politicians.
They are slippery rocks on a river
and the current of a whirlpool
for the heavy steps
of the enemies.
And they are the soft cashmere carpet
and the fine, powdery sands
for the careful steps
of my lovers.
Written from the point of view of Panay Island;

An adaptation of "My Poems Are Not Gentle" by Roger Felix Salditos/Mayamor
Vera Ezekiel Apr 6
Dumi,

I like love revealing
Hate unlatch
I'm no chameleon
You're no holier
So don't mix me sweet and kola
Cos I like my water settled.
"Carve the iron from my bones"
I wish there were another way

"Mold me, clay-like, into the idol of your adulation"
My skin burns from murderous hands

"Things bend and break at your wanton will"
Skeletal snapping fills the dusk

"Drain me of my marrow by 'morrow"
I'm running out of wishbones to believe in.

"I won't be me by morning"
But that's ok, because I've only ever wanted to be you.

-C
This some o' that good 'ole free-verse. Haven't written something like this in a while, but it was fun and I'll try and make longer ones in the future. Hopefully y'all like it!
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