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Love is an art.

And I can barely
draw you a stick figure.
Funny story. True story.
15/1/14
 Jul 2014 Michael Amery
Stellar
You made home taste like cinnamon.
I  don't  like  **cinnamon.
Could you take this broken heart
this funeral beat, this withered soul
and take it back there to the start
to love again and make it whole.

Could you take these doleful eyes
of faded green, once emerald bright
and bring them up to meet with yours
to fill them with your loving light.

Could you love me in this moment
disregard my broken bones
shattered by another's longing
take my hand and lead me home.

If you could, not everlasting,
for a second, suspend time
would you press into my darkness
to place your healing hand in mine.

This I ask with humbled chorus
not for better, nor for worse,
the love you give it will not linger
let your blessing be my curse.
 Jul 2014 Michael Amery
nivek
flesh meets metal fired with deadly intent
children splash in the shallows of an ocean
a woman kneels hugging the gravestone of a loved one
kites are flown high in skies shared with tank shells
the sun shines brightly obscured by the smoke of explosions
there is no normality only the normality of premature death
this is the warring of Man hatred galvanised set loose
all respect all understanding all mercy forgot this is Gaza
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