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  Mar 2020 DeVaughn Station
Chloe
Two broken people
who love each other
is not just love-
it is a blessing
The wounds they share-
along with their hearts,
allow the wounds
to, surely, lessen
One might find
that it is not love
when one is tired
and the other well-rested
It seems then,
and quite often,
that one is gone
and one invested
If you feel
you can do only harm
to someone broken:
move on.
2016
Hear the drumming?

On point
Off note

No tea
No sympathy

Battle drum
Stratagem

Clouded
Shroud

A waving flag
A wavering comfort

Peacefully
Pierced

Sharp pain
Dull wound

Pretty house with a white picket fence and dethorned rose garden, the bread crumbs lead to selfish tendencies

Detach
Separate

"Cut the kids in half"

Part for daddy
Part for mommy

Let them cry themselves to sleep
The drums shall stop

Divided worlds
United cruelty

Bedtime
Bedlam

Rush of blood
Knives out

The drumming never stops
Sudden isolation swallows them whole...
Love makes us do crazy things
Even giving away rings
Something I’ve considered
Couldn’t stop the flowing river
The river of love
Something I can’t wait to be part of
Love the thing that ties us
Leaving things to discuss
Things like kids
Things people forbids
Discussing life
With my future wife
Growing and learning
All while yearning
Marriage a title that we use to show our love knot
Something we were taught
The one thing we weren’t taught about
Something you dont hereabout
The little connection
That leaves a lasting impression
A string that connects two hearts
That can’t be torn apart
Sending things we dont say
Like i will not stray or hey
Saying I love you with out words through a bond
Something that makes us respond
That string that connects the two
A soulmate string that says i love you
Forever pulling the two closer and closer
Leaving chills all over
A love they share
Nothing can compare
To the words they share through a bond they share
As a copy, I find it difficult
To the chase such expectations
Every action is closely dictated
To mimic the original's intentions

Limiting precision and accuracy
Leaves no freedom of expression
I am only an embodiment
Of some product imitation

Every movement I call my own
Only causes more frustration
Because it strays from what is known
Like a phrase lost in translation

What if I was the original?
No longer seen as a mutation
To be the focus and not forgotten
To be the object of admiration

But I am merely just a shadow
A silhouette born into submission
Lost in darkness, behind the light
Cursed with a muted motivation
  Mar 2020 DeVaughn Station
Epiphylllum
Bury me in the roses
Crimson as the color of blood
running through our veins.

Come to me in dreams, my love
Come with your beaming eyes and vengeful self.

Come to me in dreams and seal with a righteous kiss our meeting;
Releasing me from my agony

Bury me with your most kind caresses
And still lingering fears

—You don’t have to say you’re mine, you just have to say I’m free —

Bury me in roses
and forget me

                               no more.
  Mar 2020 DeVaughn Station
Zia
I walked away, weak
I looked ahead, bleak
I endured pain, strong
I thought of dying, wrong
I built over, alone
I started smiling, milestone
I laugh and live, selfish
I’m not looking back, you wish
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