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 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
Parts
 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
Fears don't need to be decisions
Sadness doesn't need to be a fact
Anger shouldn't be an action
Shame doesn't have to be a self image
These are just feelings
They are not definitions
Of your being
 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
I am not this kind of girl
I say to myself, to you, to them
I don't do these kinds of things
To myself, to you, to them
I swear, I swear
I am not this kind of girl.
 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Orange Rose
I wrote a poem when I died...
Another at my birth.
A brand-new sonnet when I cried.
And again when there was mirth.

A song for my confession...
A story for my pain...
A painting for depression...
And nursery rhymes for rain.

My creations live inside my heart.
I keep them there in shame.
Yet you looked around and saw my art,
And smiled all the same.
 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
Spiral
 Aug 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
You think of me when you're drunk
In the midnight hours, in the dark
I wonder if you wonder about me
In the daylight hours too
When you see sunflowers
Like the one etched on my thigh
The thigh your hand gripped tightly
Whenever you were near me
I wonder if the memories hurt you
The way they have been hurting me
We were better than what we became
After we stopped kissing in the morning
When we decided to be friends
That aren't friendly at all
Stop calling me when you're drunk enough
To acknowledge that I still exist
Because it makes me remember you
And I can't drink you away
 Jul 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
You are small
But you will grow
The grass will not always
Look like a forest to you
You will forget to relish the feeling
Of dirt between your toes
Your alarm will go off one morning
And you will make your way to work
And you will crush grass beneath your feet
Absent mindedly
Instead of eyeing it with wonder
And wondering what magic
Placed it there for you to play in
You will mow your lawn, and I'm sure
That you will ***** about it too
You are small, but you will grow
And the grass and I will miss you
 Jul 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
Sometimes I forget
My own handwriting
And my "A"s come out wrong
Not looking at all like me
So I have to look back
At poems from yesterday
And forge my own signature
If I manage to remember
Where I set my pen down
 Jul 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
I pick up the pieces
Gently, carefully,
Place them down
In my bathroom sink
Wipe away debris
Collected and caked
Onto your being
I meticulously clean
Each part of you
Warm you up
Pat you dry
Give you back
To the world
And hope you
Don't return here
Broken and filthy,
Yet again.
 Jul 2018 BlueBird
Joel M Frye
There are no more bad days.
There are moments
          of ingratitude
          of rage
          of self-pity
          of hatred.
Those do not last.
There are
          friends
          family
          caregivers
          kind strangers.
These are evergreens.
Bad moments need not
become bad days.
The song of life
plays on between them.
The cancer has returned.  I will begin treatment later this month.  Thank you to my many friends here for your continued support.
 Jul 2018 BlueBird
Sam
1.
You love like it’s effortless.
Like it grew in with your bones,
like you have always known how to, like the idea of not openly expressing love is foreign.
(Love is a choice, you say,
like it’s obvious and certain,
Love does not intend harm)

2.
You love like you are waiting for someone to stab you in the back.
Careless, and freely given, until the line is drawn on the grass and you expected this in the first place - you live as though you expect to need to cut your losses at any second. (Until that point, however, you love wholeheartedly— hell hath fury on those who harm the ones you love.)

3.
You love as though it will break you if you don’t. Your emotions are bursting on the surface, and it will hurt you more to turn a blind eye than it will to take a trip down another’s misery. You love earnestly and obviously, and your own bleeding heart will come second always, but you understand what can happen, heartbreak - will risk it again and again despite that the odds may now be ever against you.

4.
You love like it’s a forgone conclusion that everyone knows love exists. Like it’s just there, and of course it’s supposed to be good, and of course it’s supposed to be freely given and returned. (And you seem so confused when others do not follow your simple ideology.)

5.
You love cautiously. Because you thought they weren’t out to get you, once, but they were. (And not all parts of you survived it.) So now everything terrifies you, and you create holes to jump through, tests to run - your use of the word trust is seldom, of love rarer still.

6.
You love in secret. Like a facade will protect you from life, but all it does drive people away who don’t come back for the second look. You love as though you’re unlovable, but you know what it’s like to be loved, and you willingly go with the ones who come back through.

7.
You love people like they will save you. A hope that they will rally to your side. You need them, but you need them to need you, and you know how to be calculating, but you didn’t want to be. You love freely, though, until they burn the bridges you once crossed together.

8.
You love people who don’t expect it, and you love like you’re on a mission, non-malicious, because you’re really just trying to give others a little piece of the world they don’t yet have, and the love and affection that comes afterwards is an unintended, albeit not unwelcome consequence.

9.
I love like it’s forbidden.
As though the minute it is admitted, the love will disappear, by nature of simply acknowledging the fact.
(And so they fade away without ever knowing.)

10.
You love like it’s an afterthought,
like you didn’t know you were allowed to.
It drips from your shoulders,
in an array of colors
I have never seen before.
And yet, it’s kept tight against your body
As if you’d rather it be hurt then you.

(You’re allowed to be loved, and love in return. You already are.)
10 interpretations of how different people love, the first 9, of 9 different people from my perspective, the 10th an interpretation by my friend in response to reading the poem, on person 9 (me).
 Jun 2018 BlueBird
Myrrdin
Why is it that when
I hurt myself
It takes away the
Hurt you caused
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