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I could have to run up
25 flights of stairs .

And I still
Would only
Be

Catching feelings .

 445° 
Laura Warner

Hard liquor on my lips
Still doesn't burn as much as you
You may have left
But your taste lingers on
I drink to forget you
Yet every time i’m back in the same place
With your face plastered on my mind
Contradicting comments
And broken promises
Are all that is left until
Sapphire pools draw me back home
Back to the comfort of two arms
Open wide anticipating my return
But not tonight
Tonight I sit alone
Letting the cold poison trickle down my throat
Wondering what in the world went wrong.

 292° 
Mel

If one day you wake up and i'm gone; do not cry, do not grieve. Do not write paragraphs about how much you loved me.

Because, when I was alone in my darkest hours, you weren't the one that would stay up at night to make sure I was alright.

Do not say I was a wonderful person, and wonder how people can be so cruel.

Because on some ways, you were the reason I might have taken my own life that night

To be clear, she is not blaming anyone for her suicide. She is saying that the way "you" treated her, added on top of all of her other extreme feelings, finally pushed her to the edge.
 281° 
adr

though you can’t see,
there’s poetry
tattooed on every part of me.
from hands I hold,
and tender souls,
and voices that sing harmony.
from words I read,
and friends I keep,
from nights I was up too late;
from unfriendly vows
and who’s and how’s
and “why couldn’t you have stayed?”
there’s poetry,
though you can’t see,
tattooed on every part of me.
each inch of skin
all covered in
the ink life won’t stop giving me.

making love with no love
(kissed her with his freedom)


<•>

a new person in an overnight stay in a strange,
aptly named,
bed and breakfast

and

you do all the same things that just feel good, careless loving
that comes from practiced renewable remembering,
kiss her neck for hours, drink in her crescendoing cooing

rename her Appalachia, bemused, wondering why,
she gasp-asks, when your tongue traces her odyssey body
from her Georgia to her Maine, then no need to explain

it all feels familiarly strange, imbalanced, shaky, loving the thrill
of your first solo bike ride, an invisible hand letting go,
the wow of walking the line of new freedom and
old responsibility that you have walked on both coasts

carry on, love is coming to us all lyric, enacted-recalled,
loving yet another
long cool woman in a black dress with unquestioning

how to explain to her, how. to yourself, loving with no loving
and the best you can stammer is it is like writing a poem
with too many commas or none at all

she laughs you up with one mouth lingering,
then one amazing kiss on your heart
and nose,
grabs a piece of toast and gone girl,
then you are returned to alone, to the dreams that
may or may not have occurred and two hands overflowing with
too many commas
and none to keep
<•>


11-18–17 2:54am, somewhere

“kissed her with his freedom”
Cactus Tree by J. Mitchell
11/18/18 12:54am
 175° 
Luna7464

I sometimes think that everything will stay the way it is.
But it doesn't.
Because one day,
the sun will explode,
the oceans will dry out,
the air will escape,
gravity will float,
clocks will lose track of time,
the vulnerable will be surrendered,
the invincible will be defeated,
the remembered will be the forgotten,
and we'll all be sucked into the black hole of space.

And my heart,
will stop beating
For you.

~h.m

 96° 
ST Rossa

Don't let your guardian angel double as the janitor picking up all the pieces to your broken dreams.

 91° 
Eléa

we are one we say scribble
            with

half beaten breaths we
  
   t<
hat cant     act the same
when
                  the other breathes too   and

we are one we
           paint
snowflakes  paint teardrops paint sweat-beams

paint
rain we are one

we speak
          step on each
              pavement     each dark deep blue pavement
each leaf like a star that we crunch that  we crumble

in each
                           certain same                    
                                    way
­come together we tremble
                          we
              step to each other
our breasts like

         balloons as we watch
as we

pop   ;                       come together i say
        i say

take                  each     i take

                     breath
                      sounds like roses
take            
          
              breath sounds like

piss stained                        each
one same     old   
                exit we     walked         to a

city
               we
hoped we    hoped it
                 had
something
we hoped                     would
                   have
some thing

hoped would         have    
more than        
                     more than  (before?) --

and
i saw you

--  

you            edged by a curb
         and you
                   sang like the world
that it      tilted each       time and i stood there before you
and      i felt it there also;
the wind and the grass and

the times spent before us the
millions of mouths who


                 moved time

for the
                    act of *
               it     

shift s  pace

for the    
                     be of it

and if we                                  did
that together
if we wasnt                afraid

of tasting ourselves right up
right up         close
                      to the other

imagine what the        world           would be it
                                           it
         tastes just like apple stings                      (darling)like
  tastes just      like        honey cusps and

(       dont you dare say the way   i          would   love you's
                                        the way you love me)

 90° 
Natassia Serviss

I feel so tired,
I feel so lost.
Give my heart time to defrost.
I'm on the edge,
I've broken down.
I'll never get back up,
I'm going to drown.
We're left to think of an escape
As if the cut is a minor scrape.
Where do we find a cure?
I know people care,
I'm sure.
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words, what a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
If I can't find my way
If my path has gone astray,
Then whose to say I'll get out safe.
Hidden from my gaze
their words ring in a haze.
"We're here to help,
We're here to save.
Drop the knife,
Please be brave.
Please drop the gun,
They haven't won.
We want the best,
We want a smile.
You know that thing's been gone a while."
Just tell me it's alright,
Only for tonight.
My way out has been delayed,
Honestly I'm afraid.
Who's going to save me now?
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
Would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words,
What a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
Aren't you to blame?
What a shame.
I'm gonna be gone tomorrow,
Please don't hold your sorry.
Those last words were just a game.
Maybe you won,
Maybe you're to blame.

I remember this time. I remember this feeling. Written in 2012.
 89° 
Garry

Pale blue dot in an endless void,
This rock has turned again and
     the skies are swapping places
     once more,
Regrets of things done or not done
      drag behind on the ground
      like a chain,
whilst hope for the new day
      flies ahead and above like a kite,
A day closer to death or
      a day well spent?
Either way, tomorrow it begins anew;
So turn, turn and turn again,
Pale blue dot in an endless void

 82° 
Middy

“ sticks and stones
may break my bones but
words will never hurt me ”
What a lie
What a scandal
What a stupid quote

We are Human
We aren't immortal
We aren't immune
to pain and words

If words can't hurt me
Then why do they bleed
Into my bloody wrists
And scarred thighs
Why do they stun me
Into tears and heartbreak
Why do I reach for the razor
And mix bitter tears
With red liquid
On the white bathroom floor

Why do they cause
Broken hearted lovers
To keep from bridges
Tear stained faces
To be mourned for
At funerals
Why do they cause
A gun to be shot
And the bucket
It will hit
The gunner

“ sticks and stones
May break my bones
but words will always kill me. ”

I was thinking about that quote and wonder how it came up
Words will always hurt others
They always will
 79° 
The Dedpoet

War is a monster,
Nevertheless a spawn
Of the course that humanity
Cannot know until it sickens
Itself of its reflection,
Born is the unsettling peace
And an eye full of remorse
Until the infinity settles the
Loneliness and kindles
The desire for more,
The temporary sanity between
Is a generation yearning.

 75° 
Eriko

door slamming in the thunder,
rumbling blemishes
and coiling swaths of color
a brisk bite of chilly autumn air
and the swinging of the ground floor,
window panes taught from the strain
leaves pouring through the neglected window
crackling peels of paint
and lazy glows of aged bulbs,
a house toppling as the tempest endures
a house resisting the urge to fall,
you see, look closely
through the knocking of the storm,
the walls cannot fall
and nor can the roof,
there is a treasure to protect,
and memories to cherish,
all the lifetimes of happy fishes
and warm pies to relish,
a house of this kind cannot perish
it guards the kisses
and the starry night wishes

 73° 
Michael

How you view a woman when she lays across from you,
almost nude, somnus covers her expressionless complexion, unable to make out whatever it is she seems to be dreaming of
Her skin dazzling under the Impartially bare streaming sun beaming through the winded curtains
The curvature wrapping the warmth hidden
The muscle from beneath her skin
The lines, the texture are easily breathed in
Her tattoos if any are uniquely formed in the oddest of places, giving her such a peculiar unsettling look, the sort of look that lets the static run wild in your brain, coursing into your veins
The way she molds to the soft waving sheets,
How her skin smells of lilacs, anemones, chrysanthemums and everything in between
Oh how you watch the camellias project over her presence from thin air, making themselves welcomed, surely falling atop of her surrounding her in a way that accentuates a hint to an already precisely defined, display of intricate beauty
“Beauty” it falls very far behind from her graceful existence that she has given this earth
The way she carries herself when she’s awake
How her conscience flows through her words, especially when she doesn’t speak, her eyes say everything, and nothing at the same time, it simply doesn’t matter
Laying there, a blaze of desire
The features,
The precipice of her hips, leaving you sick with fever
The way her breasts are aligned, and heavy
The moistening lit garden she carries between her legs
Her swooping eyelash filled eyelids, emeralds are found underneath
Her lips of any shape, prepared like a delicacy, You could devour for the longest hour
From the outer layers that conceal the inner waves of her core
Pours so gently, The essence of her being
Into the palms of your selfish wanting
Is how I see everything, is everything I somehow feel
When I’m presented with
The very close company
of another man
As sensuality fills this room,
He glides smoothly against me,
Heaven comes crashing through this heated room
from our precious skies
colliding onto our confused, lost heads,
All Flowers Bloom,
The last excretions of air escapes from our barren lungs
Our eyes break the taut line, that kept us intertwined
Held together like dragonflies on a wet, hot summer afternoon
We fly away, gravitation in unity, out the window revolving around him up the pheromones he gives away,
A spectacle to be unsure of hesitant in a way
The fascination that covers him, the mysterious way he clings to a motion,
Into, though of dying snow
Evaporate away into a sun’s blush

Structure isn’t of importance, only that I’ve smeared my reasoning across properly. I’m one who could do without the labels but how else are you to possibly describe something that exists if it has no particular name.
Though I’ve yet to have any recent encounter with someone I’ll just have to imagine it.

Clearly if you’ve made it to this point and find it too vulgar silently look away before the trauma sets in.
17.10.16
 73° 
maledimiele

The hole in my heart is only as deep as the void it contains
The void which is full of your absence and full of my emptiness
I wish you could carry it for me just for one day
Lift the weight off my shoulders
And put it in your pockets
Take out the emptiness
And fill it with only air
Breathe me in, absorb my grief, exhale the toxins
Isn’t that how the body works?
Pour out my tears
I will donate a pool to you
Suck out my sorrows,
I assure you, I can live without.
Carry my heart and teach it a lesson in healing,
That’s what you’ve promised anyway.
Shape the edges, draw circles, switch on the light.
And when you’re done I’ll willingly take back that heart
And transplant it back into my chest voluntarily.
But as for now I’m lacking space.

 70° 
Sad Beauty

Where were you
when I needed you
A place to be
Alone

'my mistake my one true love
We met by misteak
Now your mine
Love

Don't look at me
Like you know my name
The problem, Is that you can't love
Someone who
Won't love you back
I tried everything I could to get you back
Now I'm mad

I'd take everything back
If I could I would but I can't
I do stand the sadness
The madness

'my mistake my one true love
We met by misteak
Now your mine
Love

Don't look at me
Like you know my name
The problem, Is that you can't love
Someone who
Won't love you back
I tried everything I could to get you back
Now I'm mad

I'm tired of being sad
Of this place of this past
Because
When I have you back
You leave me at once
The problem, Is that you can't love
Someone who
Won't love you back
I tried everything I could to get you back
Now I'm mad

Don't look at me
Like you know my name
The problem, Is that you can't love
Someone who
Won't love you back
I tried everything I could to get you back
Now I'm mad

Now I'm mad
Now I'm sad

 64° 
Juin

Strangers that are very dear,
Should I trust them or fear?
"We care for you" they say,
But what if I'm their prey?

I've been careful each day,
Not to tell anything or say.
I am scared that they won't be,
The friends I think I see.

Until now still isolated,
Feel like one day I'll be hated.
People before them left,
Like I failed their test.

The group of four everyone knew,
Little did they know I was blue.
I was the odd one out,
The one no one talks about.

Now I pray every night to the God above,
Give me a friend to trust and love.
May He grant my prayer,
So that I won't be in despair.

18/11/17
 64° 
Breeze-Mist

My first thought on seeing him
Was "wow, you look dead inside"
But then I remembered
I looked like I'd just been hit blindside

 57° 
OnyxSea

Thoughts of the future,
Visions of the past.
The present moment,
simply does not last.

Time is spent,
unceasingly,
on speculation and niceties.

The self-deception plaguing oneself,
The unceasing banter regarding wealth.
What is left, to truly spend,
is an echo, a fraction, of what we truly have.

Paying attention to useless things,
occupying the mind with countless daydreams.

Imaginings of futures never coming-to-be,
Recollections of a past causing hurt to me,
What is left is but a bare fraction,
the actual time that is spent on the present.

Wasting away the gifts of time,
we squander the present, however benign,
on the past and future, or thoughts of the present.

Rather than seeing what is truly inherent,
the very impermanence that defines the present,
We miss our chance,
the biggest chance there is,
to shape our future, however bleak it is.

As with countless drops one can fill a pot,
day by day we can always walk.
For the path of a thousand miles begins with a step,
with the beginning at hand, the end we will beget,
the very future, we will seek to protect.

 56° 
Lora Lee

in the landscape of you
I am a wandering soul
with but my words
                for protection
as I make you my goal
in the expanse of your vista,
I wear the cloak of our depth
your heartbeats in mine
as we breathe
           the same breath
I feel your rugged peaks,
your valleys that sink
your core's wildflower essence
that stains me with ink
I bathe in its fragrance,
a tattooed poet's imprint
in the primal spheres in my being
enveloping my core
all the clearer
          for seeing

and when your rough
                 tempest storms
are afar, yet in view
I dive straight to
                  their center
into the magnet of you
for
     I will water your deserts
infuse fresh creeks
                        in your dry
I will run through your forests
as I call to your wild
as I straddle your cliffs,
festoon your tundra
             with blooms
steam will rise from
                your earthcore
and fill up my womb
Through the dew on our lashes
through my lava that flows,
the stars in your eyes
make my universe glow

these geographic measures
                                 I take
as you let me inside
our bloodstreams merging
as we get lost in the tides
electric pulsed woodlands
that spread iced wildfires
slaking the loops
  of floodgates' desire
and I will hold you together
if you fall, torn apart
bonded forever
in this map of our
                    hearts

I feel you. In every stone. In every leaf of every tree
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJczHir9Enw&feature=share
 55° 
Lunatica

I moved close to life,
I stood next to death..
If you ask me why?
I will blame love.

Four lines about love that is close to my heart.
 53° 
Tim wallace

It's raining in my head again
All these emotions when will it end
It's all bottled up inside
Just like the one with the message that washed in with the tide
The feelings that are trapped in my mind
The emotions of hearing one of our songs
And just stopping and sitting nowhere and wondering where one belongs

In my head
 52° 
Wordinthewillows

Sing the same song twice
Howl to this old harvest moon
There is music for falling from trees
there is this perfect crescent between
Bless with the silk of your touch
Let the light caress your cursive skin
Whisper as the dunes do
Show the detail on your ruby lips
Love me with your lipstick
Seduce me with your dancing hips
Come back through the darkness
Make a sculpture out of limbs
I miss your soft madness
I miss our dirty hymns
Tell me those old lullabies
Of the places where you've been
Close your eyes aNd gently sway
Ride until the velvet night is day

 50° 
Venus in Scorpio

I saw her in my dream last night,

I got to lay with her

and it was beautiful but now my heart aches

I just thought about us

I know it’s dramatic but

I think, not only did we meet at the right time,

but our whole lives had gone by and everything we’ve ever experienced added up to now,

If anything were different we wouldn’t have this,

I’m sure a lot would be different and it doesn’t even matter,

I think I’m just grateful because I’ve never had such a strong connection with anyone before

it’s caused me to rethink logic and science

because even though the universe is chaos we collided,

we were stars getting too large

and now we share our brightness,

shoot me I sound like a loser,

all I know is I never want to lose her,

the moon of my life she guides me

controls the tides roaring inside me,

the universe tethered us so that we wouldn’t have to be alone for long in this mad world,

everything I’m saying goes against my beliefs but that’s ok

I’m dealing with a paradigm shift and it’s changing the way I think,

if I blink hard enough I can still see her face smiling,

I sound like a ridiculous man but these words are not mine

they’re flowers she planted inside,

there’s plenty of sunlight, water, and love

now they're flourishing.

I guess it means something to me

do I fall in love too hastily

or am I just dehydrated

and she the oasis

my evergreen
my always here
my never leave
my star that's near

my open heart
my much too smart
my key to be free
my fill the empty

my beautiful
my push and pull
my everything
my reason to sing

my determination
my fear inside
my should i sit
or should i ride

my happiness
my saving ship
my owe everything to
my firm grip

my evergreen
my daddy's eyes
my remaining
my never die

 47° 
Vulpes

Grab a feather
                                            Open your soul.

Grab some paper
                                         Make it your own.

And a small feather
                                             Shall be a brush,

And a small paper
                                        Your poems' canvas.

In all honesty, I think about you a lot.
Still.
I think about you while I'm waiting in line,
while I stir my coffee in the morning,
when I remove my makeup after a long day.

I think about you in the middle of meetings,
while I’m waiting for my Uber,
and even when I light my cigarette.

I think about you in the most random moments
But the thought of you has stopped lingering in my head.
I think about you,
but I cannot say I that I could still remember you.

You're just a thought now,
an idea
from the past.

Because to remember―
is different
To remember―
is to travel back in time
and feel the way I felt when I used to walk beside you,
have lunch with you,
and stare at your flawless skin.

You're just a thought now,
a memory
I want to keep good.

I still think about you a lot.
And admittedly,
sometimes,
if you’re thinking about me too.

   —a.t.

 43° 
lmnsinner

she just shakes her head

she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance,
in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night,
I greet her with words semi-adventurous -

“come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company”

to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve
lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some
kids appear, a surprise omen as they come
trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving


the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer
in his native Bangla

she asks “what’s that he’s saying?”

“Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and
may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune”

she just shakes her head, from side to side

emerging from the store, walking home in the
now doubly dirty darkly dusk,
a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me
“you’re home late and have a great weekend,”

she asks, “who is that?”

“why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’

she says:
“he delivers mail to five thousand people all in tall buildings,
yet knows your name, your face,
where u buy your lottery tickets,
your coming and going hours,
how came that to be”

but waits not for an answer
she just shakes her head, from side to side

I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house,
the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop
a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment

a secret elevator which is under the direction of
Bimal from Nepal,
who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor)
asking after Royce and Robert, his 100% American boys

now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging,
she just shakes her head, from side to side

later she says:

“let’s order in, apprise me with your expertise,
some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue,
known for its aphrodisiacal powers
afterwards, you must tell me each dishes name,
in its nativity, but much later,”

and as she speaks,
she just shakes her head
up and down

11/17/18 ~ 11/18/17

love's sating river
streams through adoration's heart
beautiful of theme

 41° 
WeFeelFine

Candle in a dark room.
Fire in the ice,
Laughter in the gloom.
Taker of breath,
Bringer of death.
Dryer of tears,
Bringer of fears.
Silent voice,
Obvious choice.
You intoxicate the sober,
Bring the chills in October.
As the bringer of destruction,
You then begin the construction,
Of a being anew.

 40° 
Charles

Illness has an odd way
Of ordering affections
sorting priorities

Nausea is illness
But the unsourced kind
it is a warmth
an unpleasant heat

An indication of error
But what?
Is Wrong?
Nausea is the stubborn sick
Refusing to disclose its root

It fills and sloshes
Like a coagulating soup
The only cure is to here it told
“Your mistakes are forgiven”
“Your body will be made new”
“Your grieving is heard”
“I am listening”

Nausea is a stubborn captain
of a leaky ship
O bail my ship
O captain
Make all things new.

 39° 
Suzy Berlinski

A million tons of pink ribbons can't kill a malignant cell. Pats on the back, good wishes & honorable intentions are meaningless in stopping the predictable/incremental malignant process

Cancer is unique among diseases. Corporate cartels (merged monopolies) have stymied ALL meaningful research to determine the cause of the disease state and are strictly interested in attacking the symptom of the disease: tumorous growth. In this way cancer will remain incurable as no chronic metabolic disease can be successfully treated thru mechanical manipulation of the body. The CURE, treatment & preventative for crab cancer is Amygdalin (vitamin B17); for pellagra/schizophrenia/anorexia it's niacin (vitamin B3).

Plasma-pink-colored hair does nothing to address the cause of cancer nor treat the symptoms of cancer. Women, who exert their vitamin/mineral-deficient bodies in foot races run to procure money for the manufacture of pink undershirts, are making their desperate medical plight more desperate. What is the best outcome for a Human Being afflicted with cancer seated in the mammae? Cessation of the birth of malignantic cell structures.

Always find a way
Be determined to excel
Keep your mind occupied
In order to do well
Have a sharp mind
Take courage and be a force
Intelligence is power
Strike with an igniting source

 38° 
Ellie Geneve
Run

Our ancestors' DNA
altered our own

I bet
My ancestors
were runners

Maybe they
ran from lions
ran from fire,
ran from fear

Sometimes
I have the urge to run
I would be sitting in class
And it would suddenly hit


My fears are indescribable,
Unspecified

I run
from conformity
from reality
I run towards habit,
I run back home

Reverting
to my old ways

Falling
in the same hole,
black hole

I run
because I don't know
how else
to silence my brain

It yells so loudly sometimes
Sends impulses
Stronger than lightening
And my muscles shiver

I can't stand still
whilst self destructing

I need to know
That I've tried

I have tried
To fix myself
In the only ways
I know would work

Even if they are
The same ways
That ruin me

 38° 
Dead Rose One

<>

No, He said.

I want you
wanting.

I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.

I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.

The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting  
for a incomplete perfect woman,
perfectly complete.


<>

11-15-17 11:51pm
mixed up emotions re this one; who is the striver, who is selfless   and/or selfish;  can be understood in many different ways
 37° 
Paz
Ink

I'm the author of my life,
but, unfortunately,
I'm writing in ink and can't erase my mistakes.

 37° 
Zach Shappley

If the train stops along the way
We could disappear for a holiday
Get lost in the wood
Build a cabin, should we?
Modest and comfy
Nuzzled in the corner as a fire sets
The smell of pine
Fills the lungs
Books read are the ones we wrote
No other minds but our own
Lost in eyes
Another layer commences
Transcendence into a pocket dimension
Dialogue through blank stares
All that is needed there
This cabin of thought
The one we devised
Could be visited at anytime
Both you and I hold the keys
Meet me there whenever you think of me

 35° 
Mary-Rose H

Your absence
laps
at my shore
like a
f o r g e t f u l tide;
some days
it stays
                                   out,
letting me
breathe,
letting me
be-
other days,
it makes up for this,
swamping me
in a
tsunami,
and all I
can do
is
keep my
eyes
trained on land.

You are the moon.
Please return soon.

 34° 
Rick Stachemore

poems are not all
sunshine and
rainbows

sometimes,
just sometimes
we have to piss
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be
underneath

I find the soap scum
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

art
and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this
ugly
ugly
ugly
poem

Art needs its balance
 32° 
bess

Don't call me pretty

I am not pretty

I am a warrior molded from hot iron

Beaten down to conform to a shape

To conform to a number

To conform to a scale

I forgave the people who ripped me apart

I crawled tooth and nail out of the ashes that trapped me

I get up every morning with a purpose to change

So don't call me pretty

Because I am so much more

a warrior song for all my ladies (and men) out there :-)
 32° 
Danielle

To my daughter:

Ro is my eternal, unconditional; my favorite work of art, a legend in the making, a woman to be feared when she brings the reckoning to this world. A fatherless firecracker, she has no fears. Rhia's eyes, as blue as the sea, one glance into them will you have you in a trance of miracles that could be. Though she be but little, she is fierce, as Shakespeare once put it; Rhiannon Monroe will make waves, a legend in her own right and will breathe fire upon any doubter of her magic and might. A tiny moon goddess, with her perfect crater like dimples on the surface of her bright and shining exterior; she is teaching me, more than I am teaching her, as I walk in her moonlit path she's created for me. She is my glistening realization, that I too, am, again, shining as bright as she.

Rhiannon Monroe 09/06/2016
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