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  May 2016 Cat Fiske
Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
Cat Fiske May 2016
bad designs have already been built.
on the verge of collapsing from all the guilt.
aged and longstanding no wonder we face the inevitably,
as what has been built will now dwindle away as ironically,
wilted petals will do the same,
disintegration of what we had is defamed,
a shattered frame never goes addressed,
with too many problems we just left,
but I guess maybe it was best.

we lost everything,
and still never learned anything.
we have nothing left to say.
just the rusted frame like our doorway,
we don't have to knock to be heard.
but watch your step so nobody gets burned.
because it hurts as memories flood in,
making you cry as tears scorch your skin,
you begin wondering what could of been.

and then you stop,
and drop into the doorway as you take the mats spot,
your the one fading into the wreckage,
sinking away fast before you can find a new direction.
Shattered and vanishing away,
but you never left the rusted doorway,
your looking to escape the battered zone,
you know your grown,
enough to handle the pain on your own.
Cat Fiske May 2016
Like a candle we all shrink away,
and are left in a pool of our own mess,
but I collected up the wax,
to make the broken things new,
and that's when my candle holder shattered,
and you can't fix things like broken glass,
the same way you can with old used wax,
it has to stay broken,
because you can't mend all broken things.
Cat Fiske May 2016
Sometimes I feel your cold fists against my cheek,
and I remember the last times we peacefully got to sleep.
Im getting weak.
as I can't get over the new smell of the newly fallen autumn leaves,
Cat Fiske May 2016
I thought he loved me,
even when he would hit me,
because I still loved him.

I want it back,
even with the bad.

I miss how he held me close.
I miss him fixing my problems.
I need him, to fix me again.

but he is gone,
because he left me,

I'm untouchable to others in the acts like love,
I'm a wreck since he packed up his bags and  just left,
I'm scared to have anyone else to love me like that.

because he took away my innocence I barely had grown to know,
I never had the time to be acquainted to my purity for he stole it,

It taken from me at age fifteen,
before I consented to love someone in that physical way,
before I knew he didn't really love me,

But he did love me. right?
that's what he had told me,

but I was made to believe a string of lies,
and when they finally un-twined,
I was left alone to wipe the tears from my eyes.

and I wonder still how it all got so bad,
How it all collapsed around me.

and it hurts to assess and see,
how he probably will be the only man to ever of loved me,
How he and I can't go back,

how I want it back,
How I hope for his phone call back,

but he never phones,
he never texts or writes,
he left me to wait for his return.

because I can only ever hope for it.
because I don't know how to continue my life.

He will never come back to me,
and I will never love someone the same,
and he will always be lingering in  my head,

until I pick up the phone,
to his overdue call.

but until then,
I can only ever imagine what would have been,
if we continued together further into life,

but for  now,
I'm stuck without him.
  May 2016 Cat Fiske
DaSH the Hopeful
I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine
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