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Fey 9h
In the dim-lit maze of life's intricate game,
We dance, entwined, like a moth to a flame.
Beneath the veil of the starry night's sprawl,
Our souls converge, answering destiny's call.

Your essence, a beacon, in shadows aglow,
Drawing me closer, an irresistible flow.
With each hesitant step, I'm ensnared in your light,
Lost in the depths of this ethereal flight.

Yet, amidst the allure, a tempest brews deep,
A turmoil of passion, where secrets keep.
For in the fervor of love's fervent embrace,
Lies the perilous beauty of vulnerability's grace.

Like a moth to a flame, I'm bound and enticed,
By the flame of your love, by the price.
For though the fire burns with a fervent desire,
It also consumes, a relentless pyre.

In the flicker of moments, we find our reprieve,
In the shadowed corners where hearts believe.
For in the union of souls, in love's sweet refrain,
We're forever bound, like a moth to its flame.

© fey (26/04/24)
On wings of ravens, your sanity flew.
Taken to the shadows, your mind is lost.
Life's cruel fist, and melancholia, you knew.
You traded it all for such a high cost.
Too far gone in distant time, your eyes.
I can't go to where you have wandered late.
In pain, you can grow, but you bought the lies.
How does your vast and empty world now rate?

I read of sanity lost in old books
But never thought it would happen to us.
Thank God you are immune to all the looks.
In my weakness, I scream, you succubus!
I wish I could have saved you from yourself.
And now my love sits lonely on a shelf.
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgXtR-Z6G9s
If weakness is unveiled

Would a foe be a friend?




If your skin read like braille


Could that friend be a lover?
~dedicated to the heart fixers~

sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…

many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:

remember to tell someone you love them

the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7

the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional

now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved

the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “over  time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.


so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by

remembering to tell someone you love them




dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation  Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started  me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly

<•>
The rustic wood exudes an oak essence,
imparting feelings reminiscent of timber
running through the depths of
a contemplative mind.

The morning wood embodies a
hardness akin to the tenacity of roots
growing defiantly out of solid mountain
rock—a force to be reckoned with.
She savors a taste that mingles with a sense
of triumph, a bittersweet victory vividly
displayed through a masked countenance.

Her prowess is demonstrated by
splitting rocks effortlessly with
the razor-sharp edges of her teeth,
wielding a tongue that doubles as a
deft weapon, teasing and tasting with
calculated precision. Each fiber of the pink
flower's stem is thoroughly imbued with flavor,
with a cascade of nectar streaming down
his throat, carrying forth every inspired
thought on a voyage of fervent creativity.

Reflecting on the past reveals remnants
of everything that has been left behind,
a realm where he fearlessly surmounts
challenges from behind the scenes.

Amidst disciplined actions, he occasionally
employs stern measures, firm and
unwavering. In his possession is a
substantial jumbo jet, soaring high into
the skies, causing her eyes to involuntarily
roll back in sheer awe, a testament to the
impressive magnitude of his influence.
nevaeh 1d
i want to be loved horribly
love me until i shiver and scream
i want to be loved in such a way that it draws the blood from my skin
love me in a manner that kills me
when it ends
Being in love with you feels habitual
Like living with a ghost

Kisses on the corner of Blue Boar Street
Walks in comfortable silence when we both should have just gone home
Coffee breaks to talk about philosophy

Old rituals like old friends

It feels lived in and familiar
In the best and worst way

It feels like I should have learnt from every past mistake I've ever made
a fading memory I am clinging on to
fleeting romances
and I didn't even catch his last name
sharing plates
but this will be our last date
confusing conversations of who I said what to
oh sorry that must have been someone else
that look
that look
they know
we all know
what love is like for us
it is just a fleeting game
Nyx 1d
And when I met you for the first time,
I felt like my soul recognised you,
And yours mine.
rk 1d
you said
we were a destined love
just right person
wrong time
and so i loved you
in that space between
sleep and awake
where the weight of your kiss
still lingered
like peter losing wendy
wondering just how long
i was meant to wait
for you
to come back to me.
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