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 May 2022 Frances Raeburn
Eloisa
Help me forget my dark thoughts.
Even just for now.
Be my calm,
my cloak in this dimness
I’m confined in.
Please.
Calm the storm that runs
through my veins.
Be the breeze that hugs my soul.
People say this
People say that
People do this
People do that
They try to predict
what's under my hat
They will never guess that
Be it good or bad
Only God and I know
So don't try to guess
It makes you look less

Connie Hopkins
Don't you love me anymore
Your eyes don't look the same as before
I stand in front of you close as before
But your eyes look right through me
Just like I am a vapor that will soon dissipate

Will you be happier will you even cheer
As you see the back of my heart
Moving away in tears

Connie Hopkins
Just read a sad poem.
When I die
They won't
Write Mista
On my headstone
Cause I ain't
Mista  thang.
We don't know who originally came out with this poem. It was good 40yrs ago and it still tickles some inners.
I wanted to die
I got up every day
wishing it would be my last

hoping day after day
that my time would
end fast

the words I didn't say
stayed there and threatened
to suffocate me

maybe that would be the reason
I die

or the reason I try
and stay alive.
May 14th, 2020
Thursday
6:09 pm
most of my days
I don't feel like living
but today,
standing with you
sitting with you
laughing with you
it made me want
to keep living
it made me
wanting more
wishing more
being more
than what I am
March 30, 2022
10:18 PM
It was summer's bleeding
whether on dried grass
or straw
or whatever you want to call it
soaking
Sweat from pouring instruments
that we would give
Hands outstretched to our counterparts
our falling stars
That gave shape to our words,
our turns, our learned behavior

Static kisses, that were such the darling fantasy
My, empty vase of colored strings instead of tapestry

You've, been, watching me.
Our hauntings seas, my gallantries.
Shining armor on my eyelids
Painted faces, flying starships
All my heartstrings into

Static kisses, that were such the darling fantasy
My, empty vase of colored strings instead of tapestry.

I heard that when you walk on past those doors
You're followed by the man that you had left
behind so long ago, when you began to notice,
Those silhoettes, those heated scents
That greet us from a hand to hold
A cheek to kiss, a face to miss.

We all adore the hopeful mountains in the distance
We all have planned our mansions in the distance
Grasp the walking stick and for an instance
Plan to have our mansion in the distance

But you and I
We were such the sudden contemplative types
Your icy eyes, the daisy type of deeper maybes, for a moment.

And let me tell you, it sort of strikes me how this conversation's been
such a smooth and gentle river stone for skipping
classes, distracted, by the way your eyes reflect so well this fire
stirring in my soul like sparks that rise up towards the sunset.
Wrote this one years ago, one of my personal favorites.
Blue vessels, loving lights.
They all drifted away by the current that led them.
I watched them blink out off into the distance.
Hearts like a thousand spheres of color shining into a blackened night,
Piercing into it the dreams they carried.
Trailing behind them their intrepid wake.

The beautiful mystery of reckless dancing and ridiculous laughter.
Such is life, and such is my hope to see them again.

These are the delighted memories
that play games with each other
in my head and in my heart
bubbling with connection
these are the gifts
that keep me.
Gotta love your buds.
Everything is simple;
simpler than you think.

Everything is just...
Layers.
Layers of simple things.
If you could figure it out, you would've figured it out hours ago when you first began to try and figure it out.
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