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 Mar 20 Evan Stephens
Nemusa
His ghost sings softly, a broken lullaby,
burned into my eyelids, shaking whispers,
aching silence, like a thief of dawn
stealing breath from sleeping cities.

He moves restless through veins
poisoned by words unspoken,
shattered truths scattered like ashes,
dancing wild through toxic winds,
political nightmares devouring dreams.

His touch rough, aged like driftwood,
voice cracking open ancient doors,
bridges torched by reckless kisses,
healer and wounded, prophet undone,
hallucinating at the edge of night,
tongues tangled in unknown prayers.

She wanders like a gypsy star,
feeding off his sorrow, sharing ache
in silken melancholy, children smiling
innocently at illusions blossoming
in skies suspended, palaces of air,
golden cornfields swaying blindly.

The sudden crush of metal, breath lost,
belt marks branded, lungs crushed,
pain defined him clearly, brutally
etched inside city bones, illusions
layered thick, devotion bleeding quietly,
belief hidden in oyster shells,
galaxies spiraling slowly, secretly
inside his fractured core.
Happy Thursday still dreaming of an app fingers crossed 🤞 rough night think I'm coming down with the flu...
AJean-Paul Sartre:
If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company

<>

stumbled upon while reading a movie review,
this almost a proverbial phrase provoking,
even stoking,

as we hold it up to the light,
twisting, turning the words,
as if it was a
kaleidoscope of diamonds,
looking at the fractured reflections,
for a better comprehension

we,
of two minds:
be-love and be-rued
this s l o w e d turning of our solitary solution
under the microscope ,
for critiquing
the two headed hydra
that has served us  well and poorly

you, dear reader, understand perfectly,
the utility and the inutility of aloneness,
the surge creativity that comes
from no distractions,
other than our internal attractions

which when
one interrupted by the company of,
insertion of a different catalogue
a holder of human foibles,
differentiating, threatening, upsetting,
and sometimes soothing,
always enervating,
unlike the soothe of solitude

either can overwhelm,
either can worse,
underwhelm
but
the crossover. when the contrast is
pointy and sharp,
raises an irritating questioning
like the cracking, dry skin, of
places where we do not put
moisturizing cream
for fear of feeling failure

each to their own,
the enjoy/unjoy of voices
claiming a  permanent correctness
of their viewpoint
  wringing in with
a legal pad of
pluses and minuses
listing side to dide,
but never adding up
to 💯
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.

So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.

You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.

Thank God we’re only young once.
.
.
Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 03/15/25:
Stratagem =  a trick or plan for achieving a goal
 Mar 19 Evan Stephens
Kelsey
Rain beats outside my window
The only sound lulling me to sleep
In this dark, cute apartment
I wonder how I might earn my keep

The black shadows hold me close
Keeping me warm when the night burns cold
I create to show my strength
Before my young skin becomes too old

How might the world observe me
When I emerge from this tight cocoon
With a laundry list of dreams
And no history of silver spoons

The light tells me to be brave
Because the dark won't last forever
My journey has just begun
With no ties left for me to sever
Fortune favors the bold
you are the moonflower,
and the sweet fragrance
of night blooming jasmine.

the mysterious, magical beauty
of a single night.

It is the passionate night that holds you.

nothing lives forever,
not the stars scattered in the skies
nor the sadness reflected in your eyes.

hold my hand, blue flower.
hold my wistful heart
tangled and intimate
in our distant romance.

the oak trees rustling in the wind.
there is something cold in the air...
the fleeting bloom of the night's flower.

oh, flower of the night,
the night will never release you.

a solitary tear falls. I draw the shades.
~
I'm coming to you,
Oh purlieu blue,
No more walls of Berlin
Shall stand between us,
Your name is a link to happiness,
Just the very thought of you
Reaches beyond the tide
And gives life to children,
Our children.

~
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