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Last night
A quiet word...
was trembling
A touch....
hypnotized the senses

It was pitch black....
I went to the kitchen
I drank all I could find,
And slept in the garden.

Last night
I pulled flowers from the garden's ground
And clipped their petals...
It tasted like honey.

From that,

  All blended into a kaleidoscopic metamorphosis.
Channels opened,
yet, I could not foresee the end
the world became a dome.
Immortal shape shifter's
danced restlessly...

When I awoke
There was dirt in my hands.
My mouth, had dirt.
I woke up covered in dirt.

But, I can only remember
how I drowned into an deep abyss.
The rest amiss.

In the depths, my outer self became less
In the future, I hope I do not grew thicker skin
Mind and body alterations
If the night could laugh
It would have the rhythms of your voice,
My favourite lullaby

If the light of an autumn dusk could could see
Its eyes would shine a bister glow
Of the gems that plate your irises

If a fleeting midnight's breeze could speak
It would have your voice
Whispering that same words you love to chime

If only the night could breathe
Perhaps it would be as beautiful as you
A letter for those who need it.
When the brisk winds dominate the night sky
I listen to its alluring voice
Singing the songs of everyone's story
The winds push against the grass, tress, flowers, bushes
Creating a symphony, demanding to be heard
Complimenting the night sky

In a overwhelming cry for help
To hear the winds become violent
aching
Good people take its weight
creating peace
Listen to good people sing in the night
 Oct 2016 Liz And Lilacs
Jasmin A
You are beautiful.
Every part of you.
Even your impossible anger flourishing through those once soft sultry eyes.

I've seen silent pools of 'sorry' and 'let's forget about it's leave your tear ducts and fall onto me cheeks.
As lightweight as they are I feel them. So much more abounding with grief and true regret.

Your words had stung me before and like the boy in that movie where he kicked the nest-I was. Attacked before but now it's much worse.

The bee stings were no longer puncturing needles but silver knives in my wolverine body cutting deep in my organs, vital or not they live while my howling soul dies in unforgiving puddles of shedding fur made of crushed promises- you will never hurt me.

It's what you said and yet those wrists-tight with anger in your veins-those palms. Engulfed with the flame of the hostility you dry swallowed unwillingly along with those pink pills now coursing through your nerves.

On my bare skin those fingertips- once gently kissing my broken woman hood the same finger tips that threaded shards of broken glass together as hard as it may sound you made it happen and now threading needles turn to swords breaking thread and laying down the shear, intense, excruciating hate and I know.

I know that the holes in your heart were filled by the smell of this garden you've managed after planting in this body after others took the sunlight and poisoned the rain and drenched them with laborious despondent trickles becoming tsunamis in this heart of mine.

In this very minute I thought I was important. Like a vital *****. But how could I be so crucial to you when you made me feel so minuscule but I stay maybe not close but always.

For now let me bleed out this strenuous hate so that I can come back stronger.

Get rid of those demons you hold so dearly in your head- jealousy, being your best companion, should not be your best man at our wedding in fireflies and heartstrings of matrimony - keep me safe. Safe from your demons.

And keep me safe, then and only then, may you keep
me.
This would have made a better slam poem but oh well. Enjoy. (:
j.***
 Oct 2016 Liz And Lilacs
Em
Once, you were here
holding me
and it felt as if time had stopped,  
as if we were transported to some alternate reality
where the sun and the moon
both rose and fell in perfect unison
much like our slow, weary breaths.

For a moment we thought
that nothing could wake us
from this perfect daze
but the ticking of the clock
brought us back to Earth.

So the next morning
when the moon had already gone
the sun rose alone
and so did I.
 Oct 2016 Liz And Lilacs
sarah
glass
 Oct 2016 Liz And Lilacs
sarah
i am the shattered glass, cold on the ***** floor
swept and disposed of because i can't be used anymore.
my pieces are scattered, ruined and cracked, unable to be fixed, unable to revert to intact.
i am a tainted shard, scratching and severing all that i touch
with jagged edges, i seem to pierce and graze the ones that i love.
pieces of me have dispersed left and right, pieces of me that i cannot retrieve nor can i rectify.
and after you swept me off of the cold, ***** floor
you simply selected another glass, so you could break it once more.
 Oct 2016 Liz And Lilacs
Darkly
Patron: "...And can you add the diced Hamlet to that omelette?"

Waiter: "Jolly good sir, and do you know if you'll be having dessert?"

Patron: "Oh yes, I'll have a strawberry Shakespeare."

Waiter: "Brilliant, your omelette will be out before you can say 'Ides of marshmallow'."

Patron: "That was dreadful and you know it."

Waiter: "Deary me, sir."

END SCENE
What the flippity flop. Who in the pooty comes up with this... oh. That would be me.
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