th
the-silver-albatross
Whisper
Norwegian
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31
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1.4k
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Poseur
It should go without saying / that I go without paying / any attention to you
31
2k
For Giveness
Explain to me, / mother, / why it is that
49
983
The Pillory
ashamed, i am: / ashamed alone. / without other bricks,
20
969
Under the Magnifying Glass
I have lost something / sacred. / It is still alive out there,
51
931
Jihad
Empty, drowning / all alone. / It waits to forget,
39
923
The Greatest Regret (I don't care what this makes me)
I loved. I did but never said. Words were petty, I said. She never knew. / This is obvious, but not technically contact. This is the plea. / This is for you. Sold out for a good reputation, like all the others, I am condemned to guiltful struggle. There is no magic here, so no redemption.
24
903
My Spirit Children
To an Alice that could've been: I toy with the idea of future memories, contingent to past moments. Let's pretend it fades in from white. Now, there she is, summer dress flopping up and down on the trampoline like the opening and closing of a sunflower umbrella. She is a chronic smiler. And when her mouth isn't smiling, you can bet her eyes surely are. Or maybe her 4-year-old dimples. Anyhow, you can always be sure to find it buried in some characteristic of that face so round from laughing and so familiar to her mother. She charms, she brings joy, she shows the love of love. She makes the moon shine and my sun rise. / To a Dakota that could've been: The fading once again comes to clarity. There he is. In some statement of fashion not yet fit for an eighth grader. He doesn't care. He would if his father didn't wear it. Look at him: screaming at his mom for space, for some angsty, undefined sense of freedom and individuality. He's inherited more than the tie clip. / To a Becca that could've been: You always were and always will be. There is no fading for you, only a dramatic finish: the curtains meet in the middle and sway for a few seconds while the audience continues to clap, continues to cry, continues to wait for another Act. There is doubt to whether or not the lights will return or whether the curtains will open again, accompanied by such fanfare as to be sublime.
35
891
Holding on
In vain, / I searched my apartment / instantly
23
888
Vegas
Fog / only hides / the external
13
876
Untenable Bastards
Memory is a game / I lost / long ago.
30
872
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