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 Jan 2020 Mark
Lemonade
Her.
 Jan 2020 Mark
Lemonade
she is a happy ending,
not everyone can wait for.
 Jan 2020 Mark
Lillian May
Be gentle with us.
please.
or not
it's your call
but keep in mind that we as poets
we feel too strong
which is not to say that that is wrong
we don't ease into love, we quickly fall
we love like we're dying
we live like we're small
but in our minds.
in our minds we are flying

we feel everything at once
you wouldn't think it by looking
looking at our normal fronts
a disguise, a charade
but prey don't believe a masquerade
a poet can be but anyone
existing silently
a poet can be but everyone
existing violently
we all make up stories
we're all acting to a degree
so things aren't so different
no not so different you and me

we notice the quirks
we notice the nothings
if you meet a poet then you should believe
you should know that we
we love what we see
and appreciate all forms of beauty
for to us imperfect is lovely
perfect doesn't exist
we have those markings on our wrist
of all the awful places we've been to we kissed
we've kissed the devil when we went
to hell and back again

so now that you have been informed
that a poets heart is easily scorned
knowing we feel deeply
knowing we feel more
more than we really should I've warned
we don't just love a person when we fall
we love their whole world
we love it all
and when we're hurt it is hard to trust
and thus
please.
Be gentle with us.
One main street,
a hick town
fifteen light lit
at sundown,

by the dock
a boat,

in the graveyard
one stone angel looks
towards the sky
watching as a gull
floats by

Deathly still in
hicksville.
( the victorian promenade )

With our lines in the river
we'd sit there forever
waiting for a bite
and the tide would come in
it was then
that we'd strip and go
for a swim,
hot summer days
when on the banks of
the river we'd laze,
reading the Beano
or
sometimes the Dandy,

they came in quite handy
as
we seldom caught fish.
I was never sure if 'Ladies Walk' was the name of the signal box on the tracks which ran by the river or an invitation to the fairer ***, when you're ten it doesn't seem so important.
 Jan 2020 Mark
Eloisa
And yes, it’s almost over,
Countless things, I will remember.
The glitters and the sparkles,
Prolong your stay, just so I wish.
But then again what I am sure,
You’ll wander back more beautiful.
Goodbye for now, my feathered leaves.
I bid farewell,
I would try hard not to shed a tear.
Farewell my friend,
my lovely Autumn friend.
Thank you for lending me your golden wings.
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