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 Oct 2017 Amaranthine
MikeTheVike
i’ve been thinking a lot
about your hand in mine
the way that our fingers
and palms intertwine

but i think about death
about loss, about worth
i admit that i fear
to return to the earth

where our bodies dissolve
into roots of a tree
and will grow into trunk
then limb, then leaf

but i've heard from a bird
that death will reverse
and your heart will beat hard
like it did at your birth

so hold on for dear life
with your hand in mine
if death makes us let go
it is only for time



© Mike Mortensen
 Oct 2017 Amaranthine
Angela Rose
I am a huntress.
I sink my teeth into what is mine until I draw blood
My prey never comes easy

I am a huntress.
I lurk and linger around until I find what I crave
My prey is left scarred with teeth marks

I am a huntress.
I do not fear the darkness, in fact I strive in it
My prey will not see me coming

I am a huntress.
I protect what is mine and I will attack any predatory threat
My prey is mine and mine only

I am a huntress.
I hunt down hearts near and far and I keep them entrapped within me
My prey does not know how good he has it
 Sep 2017 Amaranthine
Sarah Spang
He is the tumultuous ocean,
The twisting, rolling sea
That feigns a certain gentleness
Until its rage breaks free

So vast and so unending
And limitless in worth
I took him once for granted
As I wandered through the surf.

Without the tumulus ocean
Without its rolling seas
Without the tide that tosses me
And never sets me free

The arid, fallow earth would crack
Beneath my burning feet
Reminding me of which I lost
And dried up with the heat

But salt leaves me to languish
No sweetness he can quench
Time will only tell from here
If love can fill this trench.
 Sep 2017 Amaranthine
Vale Luna
I was a rose
Turned black with decay
Until my petals fell to the dirt
And I stood naked
In front of your audience

I was a rose
Watered with vinegar
Fed with cyanide
Loved by your ego
And broken by your hands

I was a rose
Torn from the roots
Cut off at the stem
Dead before I was alive
And rotten before I was ripe

I was a rose
Stabbed by my own thorns
Bleeding from the inside
Draining my crimson color
Into your palms

I was your rose
Painted black by your lips
Brushed to dark perfection
My expiration date long passed
As you sniffed my last breath away.

I was your rose.
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