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 Feb 4 Lizzie Bevis
Liana
It's already late
Still hours worth of work to do
I fear I won't sleep
Problem was that I had a lot of English work. When I write I refuse to half-*** it so it's taking a long time.
I climbed this mountain to once again
look upon your face.

You always loved sunsets, called them
mystical, said that if we looked deeply
with purposeful conviction that we
could see the face of those that we had
loved and lost.

As with most things, in this also you
were right. I climbed this mountain to
once again see your face, and I see you
in its warm sunset glow and deepening
bright star light, if there is such a place
I know you are up there my mother dear.
She died at only 54, too soon, never forgotten
and loved forever. I camped on the summit
that night under billions of bright stars, each
a heavenly glowing monument to all those
loved ones that have gone before us. Gone
but never forgotten.
 Feb 4 Lizzie Bevis
Nemusa
My mind, ruminating,
thoughts eating themselves,
snaking longer, longer,
like that old Nokia phone,
remember?
The game we played—
winning meant losing space,
meant swallowing whole.

I can’t stop it.
No off switch.
No pause, no rewind.
Memory flickers, a broken reel,
an unreliable witness in my own courtroom.
Why did I disassociate?
To survive, to vanish?
Was I drunk on innocence,
or did I crave your love so much
I kept my mouth shut,
called my silence devotion?

You—
standing there in my shadow,
writing your story over mine,
turning my quiet into consent.
But I was always spinning,
always folding inward,
splintering.

Now I haunt the game,
chasing the tail of what I was,
swallowed by the loop,
still wondering
if I’ll ever find the center.
the heart of trees
is strong and staunch
they exude power
through every branch

they're singing out
to calling birds
they woo and sigh
The wind their words

a canopy
With leaf is made
they bring us coolness
in their shade

no creature do they
shun... despise
their flowers rare
offering gifts to eyes

in spring they flower
in summer green
in autumn russet
their flames are seen

in winter ****
their branches bare
but they don't weep
in angst despair

for in the bud
which they will send
they bloom come spring
yes they bloom again!

they can be cut
to bring them pain
but never in vengeance
do they find gain

they make a home
for birds and bees
The lovely, gentle

heart of trees.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 3/21/2016
Living in reverse,
rewriting our love
in careless verse,
denying all that died
in between sacred seconds
we were able to cry.

I want us to crawl
back to that hole
all our shadows
ever put us.

Even if all we do
is lie to the sun,
become blind to light,
perhaps the darkness,
just the darkness
understands us.
Full poem: https://romances.blog/2025/02/03/poem-the-way-we-rewind-2-3-2025/
Her hair spills starlight, raw as unbaked bread— 
Each strand a comet’s trail my lips pursue.
No thread divides our skin, risen on breath;  
Hips hide her crescent moon, eclipse the blue.  

The mirror drinks us whole—no blind, no hidden clues— 
our doubled forms a psalm of breath and flame.  
Sound of skin on skin, a tide, laps where desires subdue;
Your fingers chart the pulse-light, vane by vane.  

No shadow lives where tongues chase the day—  
her wetness, a prism, splits what dark ignites.  
The air grows thick, our love scent we can’t unsay—  
Each gasp refracts to hues where her desires lie, night.

Your eyes—black pools where all my shadows drown—  
we fuse to one eclipse, no dusk, no dawn.
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