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 Feb 2018 Kume
Kartikeya Jain
"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."
 Feb 2018 Kume
Picking time is fine
Ticking like fishes' fins
Frolicking, wiggling
Whispering gritting wit.

First sit, it lingers
Sighing high, it quivers
Spilling guilt, it figures
Riding it sick, hits sinners.

Time chimes, brings kicking stirs
Filling 'lil strips in sinister
Ticking 'til lips hints limbs
Skin shivers, lifting fists.

Risk this click, slick tick
Find lines, hide lies
Times strikes right 'til night
Sit still, it ditches 'til it's bright.
 Feb 2018 Kume
(the truth)
 Feb 2018 Kume
I’m happy
(I’m depressed)

I love myself
(I hate myself)

I can’t wait to live my life
(I can’t wait to die)

I am lucky to have my friends
(why do they even like me?)

I have a family who loves me
(and I continue to disappoint them)

I am an excellent student
(I can’t focus in school)

I want to travel the world
(will I even live to do that?)

I’m fine
(I’m not fine)

I’m perfectly okay
(please help me)
 Feb 2018 Kume
Fritzi Melendez
I still dream about the home my lifegivers nestled in in hopes to start life anew in a country that will once begin to tear
All over in the course of years,
They began to paint over the white walls with the yells that bounced from wall to wall.
Never realizing our big family will soon turn small.
Everything was blue, and only two spots became red.
That was the day my father realized he had the strength to break down this nest with his very hands.
I turned and saw mother, multicolored with blue red and purple. As expected, she always had an eye for colors.
I turned to see my siblings, cornered and shaking so hard, our blue began to stain the floor.
Seeping through the cracks and digging into the dirt which will eventually begin to tear down the house.
A grand finale of a door slammed shut.
No back turns, just left us in the rut.
I sleep and wake up into the mixture of birds singing,
and in the next room my mother is crying.
I open my door and it falls to my feet.
I look around, and I'm overwhelmed with defeat.
Our house is broken, it's all gone now.
The dwindling love that once blossomed is extinguished now.
I pick up the pieces and begin to rebuild.
Surround the walls around my mother, to keep her safety sealed.

Because sadness can’t be left alone, sadness stays and seeps into you in hopes to weather into your mind and heart until the process of deterioration begins.
... You see,

I didn't understand love for awhile since.
Hardship after hardship, it still never made sense.
I came to realize that love is painful.
Love is sorrowful.
Love is beautiful.
Love is blissful.
Love is the act of rebuilding a broken house.
It isn't just about your spouse.
Love is inviting forgiveness into your rebuilt house in order to keep moving.
Soon enough, those feelings can be packed into boxes and displayed in the new house you move in.
And although there are still many cracks and torn down roofs,
The strength of the wall shows that love is bulletproof.

I have yet to learn more about love, about forgiving, about betterment.
But for now, I'll keep rebuilding my own home with more bricks and cement.
Been postponing this poem for awhile now, I believe it's time to let it go.
 Jan 2018 Kume
Fritzi Melendez
He wants to pretend that last night was on the timeline of never.
But he forgets to remember that I’m an overthinker.
Drinking the venom that forms on his mouth.
Letting it spread into my veins until it numbs my capability to make words come out.
Tangled in his web of lies, waiting patiently to let him bite my head off.
Beaten up by his uncontrollable anger until I’m left in gravel with a ****** spit and a hoarse cough.
Standing at the very end of the line of dominoes he purposefully toppled over.
Unsure of his motives to hurt me, I don't think the pain will get any better.

I don't know what I did wrong for him to hate the person he used to love so dearly.
I feel death will be the bandage for the knife wounds he left in my heart so merely.
I wish he knew how much it hurts and how much I cry.
But to him, it's just another day passing by.
I don't know what I did for him to resent me so much.
 Jan 2018 Kume
 Jan 2018 Kume
Is it **** if you don't kick and scream? But you said no. But you drank ... it was your choice they would say so happily they found a crawl space to make it out for the future of this poor man. Is it **** if you never told anyone about it? Is it **** if you waited 3 years too long? You wanted so badly to run but your body didn't move throughout it all, so stiff you remembered. Why didn't you scream then is what they'll say. I wanted so badly to shout and run away. I wanted so badly to come out about this ****. But I didn't so, it's my fault they would victim blame. They would say since he has a platform, she only wanted attention off it. They would let him slide because after all he's so young and talented why would we want to ruin his life. Yet hers is already ruined .
The thing that hurts the most is the easiest thing to write about
 Jan 2018 Kume
I wonder what awaits me
If I'll take this pavement instead of the other one.
The lamp posts are brightly shining on this side
And fireflies begin to lit the darker end of it.
And I am now taking steps on this pavement with doubt,
With my feet, left and right.
I am now across this lamp post and I looked up
To notice it is brighter for me than the stars.
And I am now taking steps on this pavement with confidence,
With my feet, left and right.
And at the middle I can see someone
Walking towards me.
As our gazes meet, I notice him smiling at me.
I said "Hi!", and he said "Hello!".
And that bit of a moment makes my heart skip a beat.
And now, I am walking on this pavement with an endless smile.
 Jan 2018 Kume
Camilla Green
In apple growing-warmth,
I found oceans between eyelashes and Pacific air.

Ligamented with smoke, skeleton hands crafted cigarettes of honey and curling floral sweetness.

For soft-haired royalty, I bowed my heart and washed my skin in space and rainy wishes.

I drowned myself in polish remover, to show the stripped beauty of love and life
to a sun who lives off alcohol and notions of wouldn't it be nice?

But I, the noiseless patient spider,
who has flung gossamer after thread,
am reaching for nothing but an earth flower,
One who I thought loved me,
or at least that’s what she said.
((one who sees through rose-pink eyeglasses,
and speaks in feathered song.))

Still, I sleep well under starless skies,
where urban northern lights burn the dark,
charred there by city windows and boundless passing cars.

Here, I wrap myself in a cloth galaxy,
and I paint the sun with blackberry juice,
trading gold and diamonds for the simple hope
that someone might live up to you.
 Dec 2017 Kume
Lior Gavra
Am I just a wheel?
Consuming meals?
A speck in blue sea?
Bound by what I see?
Life amongst trees?
Breathing means free?

Am I my beliefs?
The truth I seek?
Flag of a country?
Defined by currency?
A liability?
Part of society?

Am I what you see?
The way you judge me?
The values you pick?
First impressions stick?
Norm defined by you?
Do I dare to be rude?


I am who I choose.
I fill my own shoes.
I win when I lose.
I create my own views.
I see black beyond blue.
I pick me over you.

Who are we?
I am me.
Who are we?
Depends on you.
 Dec 2017 Kume
Lior Gavra
It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.

— The End —