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 Apr 14 M-E
Caits
Listening to him say “not her”
tickled something in my brain
to be loved is to be seen
but not in the normal sense
nah
in the perfect quirky out of breath hair in your face but still put together? Kinda quirky
as I savour another perfect bite
of Brie/rosemary/prosciutto
I’m left to wonder

why the hell not her
 Apr 14 M-E
Thomas W Case
***** and broken
dreams fall like
slanted rain in
a hurricane.
Mud-faced youth
plummet to the
ground.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8k5NY8ZMx3I
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read from my recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse.  Both are available on Amazon.com

www.thomaswcase.com

I would love to hear your comments on the YouTube channel.

Also, there is a Facebook page for HP poets.
 Apr 14 M-E
Ami Mathur
Is this madness?
If you like the shelf where she once stood.

Is this madness?
If you still adore the tea —
the herbal one you never had.

Is this madness?
If you are tempted to brag
about the qualities that were never yours.

Is this madness?
If you feel a sense of safety
in the mask you never wore.

Is this madness?
When you admire everything of her
but nothing of you.

Is this madness?
That you always dream of her —
whether she yearns for you?
An answer, still unknown.
 Apr 14 M-E
Aimée
Still Me
 Apr 14 M-E
Aimée
They looked at me & saw too little,
Because I spoke with silence, not with sound,
They thought me weak, a quiet riddle,
But never saw the strength I'd found.
They whispered why I walked the room,
Gave sideways glances, crooked grins,
As if their noise could drown my bloom,
As if their pride erased my wins.
They called me less & laughed with ease,
Because I didn't fit their mold,
But I'm the calm within the breeze,
The ember that survives the cold.
I don't wear masks, don't chase their race,
I move with care, not false delight,
They mock the softness on my face,
But I was never made to fight
The way they do with egos blade,
I fight with truth, with heart, with grace.
I've been the scapegoat, overlooked
The girl they tried to twist & bend,
But every bruise they ever cooked,
Just made me truer in the end.
So let them talk & roll their eyes,
Let them brag and laugh and glare,
I'll stand beneath the judgement skies,
Still me, still rising, still rare.
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