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Cry me a river
of joy,
she said

I knew she meant it,
by the silence
by the memory of her laughter,
how she poked fun
how she rubbed me down with giggles of mirth,
bellies gyrating with angst
and rambunctious
passion

I knew it

It was not the idea
of her
that scared me,
not anymore
would I think of women
that way

What
it was
that scared me
was how I knew we'd say goodbye
and I'd be okay
for once
okay
and happy she said goodbye...

Happy we didn't shovel moats & forge keeps,
establish plans of attack & surrender
belabor, humming & hawing, over broken treaties,
over civilian casualties
the banishment of civil liberties
and the proverbial
dictatorships of,
"I'm not the problem, so, it MUST be you."

Reply with,
"Yes, it is me."
I knew it,
"I'm sorry!"
Jinx!
Not this time.

This time,
she said goodbye.
And so did I. At least, inside.
And she meant it,
and it was honest.
And so was I. A small comfort.
First of many...

Her goodbye was a kiss that could rival
daydreams
of memories that are
more remixed than the splotches of oil
on a painter's palette,
and,
more dibbled and dabbled, than ten playlists of slow jams,
in my arsenal of hopeless stratagems,
bearing the desperate subtext of,
'park your rear end
where I can't begin to ask honestly.'

Because,
honestly,
if this weren't goodbye,
I could only trade this goodbye,
for ten thousand "Hello's"
whose end and beginning are lost to the tides of status quo,
of forget me nots
and anniversaries,
and picture frames
of days where we forgot what 'goodbye' meant,
because we learned to speak the truth...

And isn't it the truth,
that goodbye,
was so much sweeter than,
I can't stand,
how much we fought for a t-shirt
that eponymously said,
"I cried over spilt milk, and all I got was this t-shirt."
because none of us know
the name of the game,
but we know we hate playing it
Sometimes, it's not meant to be.
And that's so perfect :)

Enjoy! :D
Glenn Currier Dec 2023
The breeze stretches and cools the season
along the country road
variegated light, leaf-filtered
from trees that lean
in rivalry for my eager eyes.

Their foliaged arms dangle, then drop
an amber snowfall all around
as if to awaken me
to the autumn creep
into my bones that click and tick
with each tottery step.

Earth awakens me to the beauty
in this splendorous season
of the gliding swaying passage
of life in alteration
and spiritual invitation
to bathe in the slow current of creation
along this road
and its cool and bright possibilities.
I S A A C Jul 2023
stifled in this house of mirrors
thought my promised love was here
my flaws become all too clear
critical seeds deposited deep
i can see them blossom here
rose petals, swollen fruits
but no pair in this house of mirrors
cracked the case, racked my brain
all this data, i need to leave it
in this house of mirrors my confidence is decaying
my ego grows tired, i lean into yoga
realize my ego’s expired, my old life is over
my stability is fading
in this house of mirrors i saw possibilities
in this house of mirrors i saw atrocities
in the shadows of ambiguity, i almost lost me
balancing beam, shattering dreams
warped perception, endless maze
biological embrace, removal of societal shame
this house of mirrors lives with me today
SiouxF Jul 2021
Live life wholeheartedly
With wide eyed awe and wonder,
Like an innocent child
Joyfully believing in folk tales,
Unicorns, 🦄
And rainbows, 🌈
Believe in those fairy tales,
Believe in possibilities,
Believe in you,
For what you believe you will achieve,
Your potential is limitless
When you let yourself shine ✨
Ryan Monroe Mar 2021
What if I fell?
What if I fell and never stopped?
Could I fall through time
Could I exist only within myself?
Then what would happen if I did stop?
Suspended in midair,
Would I find beauty or worthlessness?
Would I find life within my reach
Right then and there?
Or would I see that everything is nothing
That I am, yet I am not.
Am I trapped inside my skin?
Am I trapped in a prosthetic body,
A prosthetic society?
If I lay on the ground
And took a breath
Would the world breathe with me?
Could I become a piece of nature
Could I just simply be?
Why do I search for pointless meanings?
If I found the answers, would I be happy
Or even more alone?
Whys and what ifs cloud my head
The haze is a gentle push
To be more than it is that I am
I feel nothing, yet I feel every little thing
Why won't I accept?
Why do I swim in possibilities
That pull me back and forth?
Dancing around in numbness
Yet emotions sit right next to me
Entertaining the idea
That this is all that's left
Alienpoet Mar 2021
When we look to the future
let’s remind ourselves that the sun
shines all the time for everyone
and in making dreams
with possibilities
we distill hope
and our faith carries us on
even if like a candles it flickers
we will relight the flame
because we know love is the Holy Spirit’s
name.
Jay M Feb 2021
Blue illuminate
Black conceal
Minutes tick by
Where is fate?

All seems so unreal
In the seconds that fly
Strange, dim light
Unsure of the battles to fight
The foes to be hidden and sly
Or confident and outright

Slip away into sleep
Or rise to face the early dawn?
Fall back into the sweet,
Ever forgiving escape
Or stand and take on what lies ahead
The outstretched hand that can make
Any number of possibilities
From merely that to, instead, realities

To glimpse upon that which may lie ahead,
Or to fall into the tangles of the mind?
To venture forth into that which may become known,
Or to remain entranced in the confines of familiarity?
The answer, the choice to be made
Lies in every dawn.

- Jay M
February 23rd, 2021
To rise and face the day, or to fall into the soothing arms of sleep?
Abby Apr 2021
Hope is to ignite a spark within, remind us of things forgotten;
of lessons yet to be learned;
of love lost and found in places unforeseen;
of the wonder within each of us;
of who we were, are, and will become;
of the universal rhythm of life that beats within all of us
and of possibilities that reside in an endless tomorrow.
This was written in January 2021 and inspired by a new connection with an old friend and witnessing their journey of self-discovery.
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