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A day
might come
far long
from now

And I'll be
Just
A story
(A partially-forgotten-partially-made-up story)
The day I came out of the closet
Was the day that freedom rang
Stepping up to bat with the fact
That something had to change

While some may call me a *****
A girly girl among men
It is well worth all of that hurt
To enjoy this life style I live

Guaranteed I don't look any differently
At a glance you'd never know
I still have the smile I've had all this while
And I don't wear flamboyant clothes

I still talk with a Southern draw
Without the slightest hint of a lisp
If you're looking for a difference
You'd be hard pressed to find what it is

But I'm waving the banner proudly
In case you didn't know it
For all the world to see that yes this is me
Out of the closet I proudly am a poet
 Jun 2017 Another Song
Colm
Have you ever known the most of this?
Or the truth which is
That it pulls a young man by his feet
To the bottom of the sea
When he realizes that
She isn't thinking about you
You will know it when you feel it.
Poetry becomes
a pocket of pain

Catching my
tear drops,

Storing them
in a memory
of etched notes.

Sunshine doesn't
follow me..

With my scares
that are healing,

Help Jesus
me to escape

From these
drowning
droplets,

They're beads
of soft falling pearls.

Pockets of poetry
cups of gray clouds.

Copyright belongs to
© Benita-Staebell-M.

Written June 10 2017
Spilling my pain
 Jun 2017 Another Song
sophia
it wasn’t chaotic.
it was calm and serene,
like the ocean.
the soft pitter patter
of the rain on the roof,
and the cool air it brought.
it was a sip
of freshly brewed coffee,
natural with no additives,
whatsoever.
the gut feeling
of knowing where home was.
and that is how
you came into my life.


the star that shines the brightest
amongst the pitch black sky.
it’s the white cloud that outshines
all the gray and gloomy ones.
the perfect fit of the last piece
to the unfinished puzzle.
it's the warm, fuzzy feeling
of getting into bed
early on a Friday night.
and that is how it was
when I started loving you.


it’s like a deeply cut wound,
one that’s inundating
with crimson colored blood,
having a tinge of maroon.
it induces pain
with every inbreathe
and exhalation.
it manages to have
the appearance of a scar,
yet it still feels so fresh
like a bruise.
and that is how it felt
when you left.


it was filled with haze
and suffocation.
the uncontrollable fast paced beat
of your heart.
Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile,
one that is hardly understood
by majority of the world.
a bite of dark chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
and this is my survival.
stuck in the third season,
but i'll make it to the fourth
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