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 Jan 2016 Sin
Jo Baez
Heaven
 Jan 2016 Sin
Jo Baez
I clipped the silhouetted feathers off a crows wings and stitched them to your back.
So you can fly to heaven.
Heavens in my thoughts, my words, my mind.  
It's where I keep you alive.
And then
In a single moment
You were the oxygen I breathe
I found it hard to believe
That I might die without your touch
Just your presence and your scent
Was more than enough
But a tiny drop of your love
Could never be too much
 Jan 2016 Sin
Tawanda Mulalu
I keep wondering if what I did was okay.
If it's okay for me to take so much of you
into my left hand, then my right hand and
squeeze, and feel two motherly dots in your centres.
I wonder if it's okay for me to grasp
at your smoothness so much, from head to toe,
**** to *******, heart to lips; and breathe
all over you: I'm scared
of it. I'm scared
                            of you,
of me,
            of us,
                       your moans,
          the dark,
my moans,
          the light,
          the day,
          the night.
It all frightens me, and I wonder if it's okay
to have suddenly grown up in the ludicrous
space of time it took to leave two obvious bruises
on your neck. I'm scared that your parents
will actually send you (back) to India but laugh
because I'm sure they won't- you applied foundation
to blot out my purple lust scars.
Love bites they call them.
                                               Love...
I'm wondering if what you did was okay.
If it's okay for you to take so much of me;
every non-penetrative, ridiculous, amateur
******, and every saliva strand. Every whisper
of afro-hair that falls out of your hand-combs,
and your tongue, which -my God- is now mine.
I said I picked you, I pick you, but here,
bodies somehow body,
you are me.
                       Innocence lost
is when a short skirt
represents a different type of freedom.
And my hands under there,
is my best worst decision yet.
Whoops.
 Jan 2016 Sin
Chloe Zafonte
Trapped in chains, with emotions that leave me in utter pain with thoughts and bad memories that have me on the verge of going insane.
 Jan 2016 Sin
Maple Mathers
~-~-~

Promise after promise
Fell into my head
I carried them with me,
I took them to bed

So hopeful, I waited;
To hold your forever
Intentions negated
This jaded endeavor

Yet, lies soon took shape
And doubt would take hold
Your dormant coercion
Cementing the mold.

You never came through
You never came back
The woodchips, they faded
The bracelets, I lacked

Trapped under my instincts
My innocence, vanished
The moon was relinquished
My purity, famished

Young as I was
I’ll never forget
The impact you left me;
Your stark epithet. . .

You took something good,
You found something pure
My will cut in half
Rose white, and demure.


The root of my psyche
You’ve yet to discern,
Who plundered my childhood;
My chastity, burned.

Existence forgotten;
Defined from within
I’ll never evade you
You’re etched in my skin.

Scar after scar
Fell into my arm
Your ink swam my bloodstream
Your slander, your charm

I swindled the rabbit
And powdered my nose
Freefalling in choices
Defining your prose.

With tasty white pills,
A hand in my throat
A liver that’s grilled;
The bible I quote.

With no one on earth
To save me from me
I sampled the bottle
From under our tree.

I cannot begin
Nor pretend to describe
What happened to Maple,
Who am I inside?

The loneliest girl
In the entire world
The events I’d mistaken
The chastity; hurled


All that I know
And all that I think;
Is this monster within me
Was born in a blink

But who’d tune in now?
The opinions are set.
My mind is jay walking
The lines of regret.

The holes in my person
The doubt I can’t sever;
My husk of normalcy
Braving the weather. . .

For what you don’t know
Is what you can’t nurse
Assumptions you draw
Are making me worse.

Conclusions concocted
Your story, enhanced
My path interrupted
Dismissed by a glance.

So I’ll say goodbye;
There’s no seeds to sew
For this is my truth. . .
Confession bestowed.

Still treading his words
That flood to the brink;
Harassed, used, and left
In less than a BLINK.
To Moses,                                                           
When I was fourteen you told me
You’d never leave me.                      
Yet, it’s been twenty years;                 
My pockets are still filled    
With woodchips.                            



All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016.
 Jan 2016 Sin
Tammy M Darby
Words flow across my skin'
Icy Poisoned Silver droplets
I wash way the thoughts of normality
To dance with shadowy images of time  
As I plunge into the waters of emotions seething wildly
And my face reveal the sublime

Death take my cold hand bade me follow
I swim in the ocean of forever's sorrow
So cloak my cold body with the stars of sadness
As I bathe in the moonlight of madness


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
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