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~
I could resist
I could!
Oh surely
I swear I could.

I need no anesthesia
No Anesthesia or numbness
Darling~
Please

Come over me!
My Dr. Sweet Anggie please
I implore you!
Take your razor-edged scalpel
Only you!
Make a safe incision.

With your soft warm hand
Wrench my heart away from me!
Detach my pumper & leave me whole.
Undo my pumper with my brain
So I may cease this non-physical war!

Let the blood flow torrentially & free,
Like lunatic waters in breaking dams & rivers.
I care not!
I want it nevermore.

Take it it’s yours!

I want it nevermore.
Take it it’s yours.

~~
This is not a common era

The trouble is threefold

Drinking from an empty glass

Opening the door to strangers

Walking along these jagged cliffs

If you tolerate this

Your children will be next
What is the sound of one
Love tearing, the sound of
one heart breaking?

The song of love lies
crying
into the wrinkle of sheets.

Sing with me!
songs in the fire,
sparks of crackle and sprawl
Crawl
to you,
~~.to the fields where
dreams are
children. Our

Oyʻoozed
monument

Pleas to God for

Yesterday


Caroline Shank
3.16.2025


..
There is something
in the early morning air
that fills my lungs with
a familiar loneliness
as the dull pain
behind my eyes
makes the stars
look like tiny tears
as the moon shakes
the nightmares from
its restless mind
I close the book
on yesterday
I wrestle with
this pen and paper
as the background
radio preachers
love and forgiveness
there is a moment
when the eyes close
and the mind opens up
there is a moment when
I see her smile I almost  
feel her embrace
within a second
she is gone …
Clay.M
this hurt
is new
but really, it's not

for you
i'd break my heart
over and over
if it means
getting to feel the warmth of your love,
the comfort of your embrace,
hear the peal of your laughter,
even if it's only for a moment

& maybe
there will be a time
where i get sick of the back and forth
when i get tired of the old wounds re-opening

but maybe
there will be a time
where you want to sit still
and grow with me
when you want to stay long enough
to heal me

the only way to know
is time
In the moment
Of regrets
In the perils
Of my plea
Time stuttered
And stalled  
And she was rid of me...
Traveler Tim
He walked out on himself,
Left his book half-finished,
Buried deep within his shelf,
His skin burnt down to thinnest.
The pen was always his escape,
Then was it the pen, the paper or the reader
That made him forsake his escape?
The creator inked through its remaining life,
The vessel consoled the words under all eyes,
The receiver breathed meaning into the words,
Then who was it that discerns?
But...
What was his story...?
Was he reciting it...?
Or was it reciting him...?
Is he returning for his glory...?
Depicting any/all writer's phase when the pen is taken away without a choice and a practical cold life wishing them to come home and pen his words to a place not judged.
my homecoming to hellopoetry <3
Love.
The bittersweet thing that we all seem to crave,
The thing people swear they'd die for.
But is it worth it, for a feeling we do not understand?
The violent force that causes destruction and pain—
But yet it is so sweet, so gentle,
The force that doomed Romeo and Juliet to their death,
That made Mark Antony abandon his empire,
Chaotic, but sweet.
Do all deserve to be loved,
And can all be loved?
I was light for a moment
I was dark for longer
I was full sometimes
I was empty more often

I’ve been the sunrise
I am the sunset
I’ve been the sun
I am the moon

As much as I am
I’m also not
The ups seem more distant
When the downs getting deeper

But I’ll keep chasing the waves
Even when they pull back
Because the tide always rises
Even after it falls
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