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 Nov 2013 Abeille
Persephone
privy
 Nov 2013 Abeille
Persephone
I'm so sick of moving on
I'm so sick of figuring life out
and realizing I'm wrong
I don't want to die unfulfilled
I don't want to resort to taking  pills
I'm tired of wondering where all my love goes
From watching my friends die
From not letting go
And I wish I could participate
in the life that I'm living
Instead of laying in a bed of thoughts,
merely existing
I'm sick of rocking myself to sleep
Weak from the loneliness I feel most of the week
And I'm through with committing myself
just to move on
From falling in love so hard that I can't get back up
And kicking myself while I'm down
by indulging In sorrow
From saying " don't worry there's always tomorrow"
And I try to be optimistic
Patient and brave
I try to see each color in a sea of grey
Will I ever be happy?  
I ask myself often
Because all of these eggs in my basket are rotten
And the man that I love, well he must of forgotten
me
And I'm an idiot because I love too hard
And I love the wrong people
Im sick of building my own walls and
digging my own grave
Against a tower of pain locked
in an unsolvable maze
I'm through with this heavy head
Because I'm either deprived of sleep
Or forcing myself to pretend
that I need to go back to bed
I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself
my pride is truly my own hell
I've lit the matches, buried the hatchet
I'm ready to
melt
 Nov 2013 Abeille
Tilly
coloured flames and fireflies dance mischievously around our heads

to the tiny trumpetsong of bees Joyous songs of love lulling all in revery yet silent to

mere mortals as We only hear the hush of whispered sighs stood beneath the dappled canopy of  

ancient fair oak spread As sweet twilight greets us again swathing our Ianthe in milky moonlight

as she rests upon a dew jewelled knoll still dreaming of fae Unaware of the cold (or the warmth

you hold in your heart for her) She smiles as you cover her shoulders with a elven~made

blanket of gossamer wisp whilst estivating toads blink wide in the coolness of hidden
mossy beds                         Gently,
sweep the                 droplet
                         of Au            from her eye, Deva,
  as we cough etheric      dust from our lungs,
sparkles    floating
in the paper-
            lantern light              
scattering across
the midnight sky,
illuminating fates,
as those fire-flies hearts
twinkle like falling stars unseen
When the veil thins, and jack o'lanterns protect,listen
to the wise ones with Samhain blessings.
Happy Autumn x
 Nov 2013 Abeille
K Balachandran
In the tired light
from the fire lit in the pyre
he saw a drop of tear
quivering on her withered cheek.
He longed,
but  having no right
to console her
left without a word;
stepped in to the darkness
that unfolded its black carpet.
 Nov 2013 Abeille
-kp
Goner
 Nov 2013 Abeille
-kp
I've done it again
I've lost myself
Somewhere between
Her mind and her soul                    
The heart in my chest
It beats but it stutters
To find the words
My lips cannot speak
I hold words
On the tip of a tongue
That has been cut out
By that same blade
That left scars on my skin
They say the body is a temple
But I have no religion
It's not the physical damage
But the thoughts
That are my destruction
I am left in the dark
No light left to guide
I am a goner
Who wants not to be found
But to be forgotten
Because I'm already dead
 Nov 2013 Abeille
Rachel Ueda
I love this time of year
seducing the nights of November
faintly hearing my past self praying to my present
most of my skin bare, colliding with the falls frosty air
I can see the stars but feel the effortless boundaries of gravity
pounding
yet its somewhat comforting knowing I am contained

I become more human than spirit
with senses intact
and in truth, it feels good, feels present
to have the soul and mind separated

my human wrappings can still inhale the world and feel the touch of the dead
but it suppresses eternity
suffocates the inner philosopher that analyzes everything as more than known..seen

it hears the time ticking, senses the warmth of the clocks arms
feels the weight of the choices

In my present self, in my flesh, my skin
I can feel the beautiful ecstasy

of simply

sitting on my rooftop

and drinking white wine.
 Nov 2013 Abeille
Riley Finnegan
On Monday, November 14th
She wore her favorite dress.
Blue with grace.
Lace that covered her shoulders.
Lace that teased all the men that walked by.
Falling to her knees.
Barely brushing the scabs and scars that sat there.
Hugging her hips like the night hugs the moon.

On Monday, November 14th
She smiled.
Cherry lipgloss smeared quickly across her thin lips.
White teeth peaking out.
Her lips perfectly outlined.
The corners tucked up beautifully.

On Monday, November 14th,
She stood.
Pride in her perfect posture.
Proud of her lean body.
Her body perfectly aligned.
Not a flaw.

On Monday, November 14th
Her arms were pale.
A gold bracelet hugged her wrist.
You could see each blue stream, happily working.
Dusted with freckles.
Soft and pure.



On Tuesday, November 15th
She did not wear her favorite dress.
She wore a different one.
Black with sorrow.
No lace.
Falling to her ankles.
Encasing scabbed knees.
Hugging her in all the wrong places.

On Tuesday, November 15th
She frowned.
Blood red lipstick stained her thin lips.
Her teeth hid inside her blooded lips.
The corners fell, drooped.

On Tuesday, November 15th,
She sat.
Too exhausted to stand.
She let go of her posture.
She was cautious of her appearance.
Aware of her flaws.

On Tuesday, November 15th,
Her arms were whiter than before.
Each vein slashed.
Red.
The gold bracelet still hung there.
Her freckles throbbed with pain.
No longer soft, or pure.

On Tuesday, November 15th
He died.
Early in the morning.
With him, he took her strength, her smile, her pride.
He left her bare.

On Wednesday, November 16th
She missed him.
She missed him a little too much.
Her heart couldn't take it.
Her eyes red and swollen.
She was there, but gone.

On Thursday, November 17th
She joined him, quietly.
 Nov 2013 Abeille
soul in torment
Rheumatism
threatens to take away
my pen

and

my poetry.
Gotta have a full body bone scan to check for fracture assessment as my illness worsens. All I'm afraid of is not being able to write.
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