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 Jun 2014 Sour
shåi
dead love.
 Jun 2014 Sour
shåi
empty kisses
and pointless hugs
had been the symbol
of a dead love

his lips had been
the gun;
his words
were the bullets

it all made sense now
i had been enticed by
his sweet kisses
just like carbon monoxide

sweet but yet odorless.
deadly.

he filled my lungs
with hope,
longing
and belonging

i had been poisoned by deceit.
jealousy.
denial.
lies.

every kiss
was meaningful
as he loved me
except he had a gun
behind his back

everytime he touched me
it was like an ignited flame
except he had
a gasoline tank hidden in the woods

finally it had been his time
to do what he does best,
**** my loving heart.

(b.d.s.)
suggestion are GREATLY NEEDED!!
 Jun 2014 Sour
Chris
I remember every metaphor I used for you.
It’s beautiful how quickly I ran out.
It was just so difficult to describe
a forest at the bottom of an ocean on fire.
You were soft,
I was quiet.
I remember every park bench,
every broken sidewalk,
every open sky.
It was so whole.
I remember breathing,
and the lovely amount of effort it required.
I hope you do too.
They say writers remember the important things;
I say they are liars.
I remember you wore a purple flannel
the first time I saw you,
even though it isn’t your favorite colour.
I remember that you take your coffee black,
and your tea with plenty of honey.
I remember the way your eyes changed colour
based on the weather,
and the way you looked at the sky,
like it was endless.
You were endless.
I remember everything you taught me.

They say writers remember the important things;
I remember you.
i am an actress
according to my uncle
my ma and pa were not wild
he called me peaches as a child
he views life through the lens of foggy imaginary bifocals
he says god sent me to test his faith
i suppose as devil's advocate
he looks me in the eyes
and laughs
and asks how much they pay me

i once saw him during a trip
he may have appeared obsessed with the maryland rails
but he also may be wildly pursuing a withheld pension

he will introduce himself as henry VIII
but that is not the name my mom-mom gave him
12/22/08
 Jun 2014 Sour
Sally A Bayan
same setting from a year ago...
i am not sure why, but
before the clock strikes twelve midnight,
my eyes would surely open
no matter what.
coffee in bed right now,
with a few cookies to munch....
my bifocals, where are they?
i need them now...i could vaguely see
something crawls on the carpet,
making rounds, circling my bed...
oh, no, it is hopping towards my comforter...
I stretch a leg beneath the pillows
something moves very near my toes.
i withdraw my leg, alarmed,
as it quickly disappears...
...then reappears!  now stationary...
this is starting to annoy me...
I poke it with a pencil,
fear no longer present,
now, with my bifocals found.
but it hops.....and hops...
and hops into hiding
down.....down.....below,
somewhere inside my comforter.
In lieu of me, it is now the  comforted.
it is taking too long to come out.
.....something i realized just now.....
could it be possible, could it remember...
i was kind enough not to use a swatter before....
why, i feel like i am being welcomed!
we are playing hide-and-seek,
a welcome dance it is!
here and now, just like before
from last  autumn,
we are finally reunited,
my cricket friend and i....

  S a l l y
  Copyright  2013
     Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Jun 2014 Sour
Robert Guerrero
You're divinely perfect through the bifocals I don't wear baby
To the girl I like very much :***************************
 Jun 2014 Sour
Miss Kiss My Bliss
Lost many things in desire
Burned many memories in the fires
But to lose my voice expressing my desire
Communication on Fire, in tune~
Itchy throat with much to say
Let my words and intentions not stray
I shall keep shouting my desires to the heavens
Vocalizing all my passions and dreams
Making them real..I've lost my voice
Speaking my choice
Destination I do not lack....
But please give me my voice back ; )
I cant talk or sing..laughing  I have been expressing myself LOTS
 Jun 2014 Sour
WendyStarry Eyes
The emptiness inside of me screams loudly,
though, no one else can see
Wisdom is it's only feed
Only knowledge can plant the seed
Searching through the knowledge to fertilize the tree
Waking the unconscious wisdom inside of me
One day the emptiness will be gone, the tree grown,
living life fulfilled
I wonder, will this be the day my coffin is sealed
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