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Your heart,
it is light and pure and honest...
and mine,
mine is heavy
but unknowingly and oh so sweetly
you help carry the weight

And on Sunday mornings
when you awake in my bed and you smile, yawn, blink,
stretch or even just breath,
I think,

NO, wait,

I know,
I was born just to see the green of your eyes.

Your tiny hands are a compass
not because they point
or because they fit perfectly in mine
but because I will always follow them.

Let me please always be a warm bed,
a piece of peace,
a comfort.
Soft, safe and quiet and still.
Soft like my mother was;
with her hands caressing my skin
she could heal any and all wounds.

In whispers let me sing,
"I want to tell you how much I love you,"
as your lids slowly and softly cover your eyes
 Sep 2020 Tashenia Haughton
Acme
God help me in these godless times.
A black sabbath, corrupted holiness
inhabits our hearts and souls.
Sulfur from Satan delivers his kiss.
 Sep 2020 Tashenia Haughton
annh
12
•                               •

•                                                 •
|
9         «———  >§<  ———»         3

•                                                 •

•                               •
6


“Struck is the hour from its ivory tower,
At sixes and sevens, the stars in their heavens,

As minute hands dance at twilight's advance,
To the cadence of time, the archangel’s chime;

Listen closely for me at a quarter to thee,
‘Twixt the tick and the tock of grandpapa’s clock,

Unquicken thine pace, for run is the race,
Hear the pendulum lock, ziccoty, diccoty, dock.

‘There was a sudden stillness like the gap between ticks on a clock, but the next tick never coming.’
- Sadie Jones, The Outcast
 Sep 2020 Tashenia Haughton
nivek
keen is loves ambition
to love
small remembrance, now and then
is all love asks
 Sep 2020 Tashenia Haughton
ymmiJ
time seemingly halts
with worldly wisdom bestowed
in blessed silence
 Sep 2020 Tashenia Haughton
N
She left me with a bouquet of
flowers that never bloomed,
and a muse with bleeding
verses that never rhymed

At nights when her name
is dancing on my tongue,
I hunger for the cherries
she once promised to feed me
Another version.
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