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 Sep 23 Abby
 Sep 23 Abby
Birdsong at sunrise
Rising sweet on the clear air
A hymn of morning
 Aug 24 Abby
everyone has gone back to suburbia,
city streets are dangerous, if you look
at someone cross eyed, it earns you death.

don’t celebrate this madness,
mourn it in black, it has a taken
a pandemic to school me again.

this a broadcast, shout out, email me
if you know how I’m feeling and can
share what other mutualities crisscross.

Do you like Jazz? Mr neither.
Flouncy bouncy dresses? Nah!
Sweats? Unnecessary, I can sweat
just by concentrating.

You like me, own soulful bluesy singers,
femme fatales, who coax and croon,
wet the spun threads of subtle emotive,
who live by light of candles votive,
I live in black, day and nighttime,
write in midnight blue, a woman who!
takes no b.s. and doesn’t ever take no
for an answer...
 Aug 24 Abby
We met on a playground
You challenged me to a race,
I won

The next day
You challenged me again
I still beat you
And that became our thing

Slowly by slowly,
You got faster
And before I knew it,
It was me that was chasing you

At first,
It was

But before I knew it,
It was with everything I had
No matter how much my body wanted to give in
And my mind wanted to stop
I risked everything just to be with you

For some reason
I thought you would slow down
Or at least look for me
The way I always looked for you,
But you didn’t

It was gradual,
So I should have seen it coming,
How each time your stride got longer
And you legs moved quicker
But I was so in love with the beginning
That I stopped thinking about the present and the future
And hoped that we could live in the past

Now we pass each other everyday
You look right through me
I always look back
Hoping you’ll turn around
Because I’m done chasing you,
Or so I say

But I guess that’s wishful thinking
Deep down,
I know
That chasing is for the playground,
A place that we’ve outgrown
 Jul 14 Abby
Misty breeze
Hair speaks tongues
Crimson gold
Soaked soulful dandelions
Nature lives beauty* !!
New dawn the purest of the lights
 Jul 14 Abby
 Jul 14 Abby
When I was young I used to think that being an adult meant not having a bed time but I've come to realize that it means being in charge of my own bed time
And it also turns out that doesn't even scratch the surface of what being an adult really means

Being an adult means taking your medication every evening so you don't spiral in and out of depression and sever all stability you worked so long and diligently to obtain
It means drinking a bottle of wine and writing poetry by yourself on a Wednesday night just because it feels nice
It means breaking loose a little and nights out with your friends drinking and having fun, pretending you're still seventeen with no care in the world
It means being completely and utterly vulnerable and throwing yourself out into the world saying, "This is who I am, love me or leave me, but PLEASE just take me as I am!"
It means giving everything and everyone a chance
It means being so **** broke but still feeling accomplished because there is something so wonderful but so terrifying about freedom
It means frantically trying to figure out how you are going to pay your bills
It means working extra hours at work regardless of any leftover time or energy you might have
It means doing everything in your will to preserve that once constant and forever thriving creativity and innocence you had so much of as a child
It means trying to balance out being both ordinary and exceptional
It means realizing you can't escape participating in things you don't necessarily agree with, like paying taxes and getting up and going to that job every morning that you pretend to love
It means being self-sufficient and responsible, even if you don't feel fit to do so
It means telling your family you love them every single chance you get because you now realize how profound your love is for them and how much they truly mean to you
It means recognizing how important and wonderful your parents are, how much they really know, regardless of what you used to think when you were 16 or 17
It means acknowledging the fact that people will disappoint you but you simply can't blame someone for merely being human
But most importantly, it means realizing your own true beauty and purpose

For the first time in my entire life I can look in the mirror and see my body, my skin, my bones, as something charming and beautiful
I've never had a problem finding beauty elsewhere, whether it was in the world, in some small thing, or in someone else, but I could never seem to find it in myself
Until now
I love myself, my body, my mind
I see beauty in my being
I am able to find true beauty within
I look in the mirror and can wonder what my childhood self would think about me now
Is this what I imagined being an adult would look like?
But that doesn't matter because I love who I am now
Sure, I have my vices
And there is always something that I could be working on
But I am finally at home in my body
And it might have taken me 19 years to get here
But I am so happy
Inspired by a rant someone I love very much had.
 Jul 4 Abby
Kyra Embers
Gradients of grey,
me in dismay.
Another random day
my heart had a harder day.

Tinges of teal
You keep walking over me.
After all I mean nothing,
mere fallen leaves.

Scarlet showers,
Scar my soul.
Was fear, a stupid confession,
Or you being the reason?

Blinding black nights,
engulfing bright lights.
Wish I could say,
a polite good bye.
Here's my poem. @sreeyasndilkumar there you go. Satisfied now?
 Jul 4 Abby
Emily Miller
My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.
 Jul 4 Abby
John Destalo
it enters


is accepted
in this

the sky

is bursting
with color

past disappears
into dust

I blow it


I am a child
a happy child

playing in
a wild field


bees don’t
sting and

snakes don’t
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