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 Nov 2015 Joanna Rose
S
Emotion
 Nov 2015 Joanna Rose
S
There is a child
Her name is Love
She has long blonde hair and rosy cheeks
But behind that fair facade,
She has a vicious streak

She likes to play with Confusion,
Jumping ropes in the park.

Confusion has curly brown hair
And means well
She loves the other children,
although she often causes them harm

Confusion is akin to Serenity,
But Confusion came first

Serenity has big blue eyes
And a shiny bald head.

She follows around Anger,
Whose clothes are always ripped,
And his hood is always up.

But he has a crush on Sadness,
Whose short black hair is tucked under a cap,
Holding all her problems inside.

And contrary to popular belief,
Happiness is the most lonesome,
Her beauty hidden beneath her favorite hoodie,
Watching as the others play.
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
 Nov 2015 Joanna Rose
Kayle Marie
Oh god, this is typical me.
To fall in love in the time it takes a red light to turn green. I’m stuck trying to preoccupy my hyperactive mind by betting on which raindrop on the car window wins the race. Then I remember that time we got stuck out in the rain, and the way the water clung to your eyelashes. How your shirt stuck to your chest and refused to let go. It’s ridiculous to be jealous of an inanimate object, but love isn’t always objective.

This isn’t love, it never is with me, this is madness in its purest form. Mutually assured destruction in every way, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I’m falling in love with the simple things. The crooked ***** of your nose, the flecks of gold in your whiskey brown eyes. The scar on your forearm, that tells a story I will one day ask for.
It’s just like me, I suppose. I can never leave anything alone.
— We’d Make The Perfect Metaphor | Kayle Marie
 Nov 2015 Joanna Rose
Kayle Marie
I have false memories of a broken summer.
The hot hands, hot lips of an underpaid lover.
Convincing ourselves that this town’s a mess.
Blocking out the world with liquid excess.
But I didn’t leave that town. The vicious cycle still continues and the daydream of leaving is still just that. What remains is a boy, too stubborn to not play with fire. Who still looks at me like I’m something holy. Worships every inch of me with bated breath.
I’ve got a boy who loves with every fiber of his being.
That boy is divine.
That boy is mine.
— Lawful Neutral Chaotic | Kayle Marie
 Nov 2015 Joanna Rose
Poetic T
Fearful of crimson
Clouds emulate blood risen
Uneasy vision
Red sky in the morning shepherds warning,

Haiku with rhyme
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