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Maple Mathers May 2016

Find what you love,
and **** it.

Before it kills
you.

If you ain't that viscous, you ain't ambitious.
Maple Mathers May 2016


The crux of tomorrow
Remains at stake
Through languid eyes
And double takes.


(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)
Maple Mathers May 2016
you
remember when
it was me

you were addicted
to?
That drug's got you
Like I want you.
Maple Mathers May 2016
Regressing into happenstance
I grasped the Rabbit in my hand
One sip I took, upon a chance
Off the edge, into quicksand. . .

Blacking out on your front lawn
On the ground, where you could stand
Can’t remember dusk or dawn,
Sinking fast into quicksand.
Worth continuing?
Maple Mathers May 2016
A problem I have
I’ll gladly admit,
Yet, the question of stopping
I'll never commit.

Some people want wealth,
Some people want love;
My concept of happiness
Hides in the drugs.
Something I wrote in Chemistry class  at 16... Beats the period table. For right-Brainers. Or whatever.
  May 2016 Maple Mathers
Allison
Often when I am sad I will find a maple tree.

One afternoon, when you broke my heart for the first time,
I found a maple tree which I could look at forever.
The Comfort Maple, home sweet home.

For the next ten years I found myself running to this maple.

One morning, when I had awoke at dawn, I sat under the tree.
I found an apricot - colored leaf sitting about two feet away.
I held it towards my heart, home sweet home.

When I woke up that Saturday morning, something was odd.
I saw you at the foot of my bed, in tears.
You were leaving me, oh, oh no.

I decided never to visit home again, because home reminded me of you.
I walked by everyday, shame in my heart.
Wherever you were, I wished I could go.

Thirty years later, I learned to write.

I learned to write thanks to the Comfort Maple.
I began to visit daily, writing my heart onto a leaf of paper.
Wherever you were, my heart left to find you.

When I heard the news you had passed, my old hands began to shake.
I was living without you, but now I actually had to.
I started to believe that you live on; you are a poem that breathes.
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