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 May 2021 Mydriasis Aletheia
emma
The places we met in the dark look different in the day,
As if they had never been places at all...
We're standing at an invisible wall
Staring into the deep blue abyss
As graceful creatures glide by
I am breathless
You ask me to sit with you and I do
Careful not to lean too close
Trying to figure out if it's in my head
Or if you're leaning in a little too
Wherever we are, time isn't
We talk and watch sharks circling by
As people come and go before us
I'd gladly sit here all night with you
I'm not pulled to you by the rush of my heartbeat
Although that is distracting too
It's this calm and comfortable essence
The balancing act of our energies
I want to hold your hand and
I want you to think I'm cute
And even if it isn't mutual
I still want to be right here with you
I'm sorry for existing
I'm sorry for being so broken
You all deserve better
Than the person I am today
I could just fade away
It would be better that way
You could surround yourself with flowers
Instead of breathing in my poison
Plant trees instead of me
Free the air of my toxicity
I don't want to do this anymore
I don't want to be here again and again
I know I'm a burden and
I know you'd all be better off
I just want this to end
I've had enough
The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;

and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion of what becomes
a star each night, and rises;

and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternately stone in you and star.
She loves like poems
and stars and moon-
grandeur, finest, calm

But he's an ocean,
lightnings and thunders-
chaotic, loud, ******.

Both unwilling to change
but in tides and trenches
they meet.
they always will
 Dec 2020 Mydriasis Aletheia
annh
π™Άπš‘πš˜πšœπš-πšπš›πšŠπš’πš—πš’πš—πš πš–πš’ 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ,
π™²πšŠπšŸπšŽπš—πšπš’πšœπš‘ 𝚝𝚘 πš€πšžπšŽπšŽπš—πšœ π™ΏπšŠπš›πš”,
π™Ώπšžπš—πš”-𝚊-πš•πš’πšŒπš’πš˜πšžπšœ πš™πš’πšœπšπš˜πš•πšœ 𝚊𝚝 πšπšŠπš πš—.

π™Ύπš—πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš—πš πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš–πšŽπšπšŠπš•, πšπš‘πšŽ πš˜πšπš‘πšŽπš› πš˜πš— πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πšŠπš’πš›,
πš‚πš™πšŠπš›πšπšŠπš— πšπšŠπš›πšπšŠπš—, πš‹πš˜πš˜πš πš•πšŽπšŠπšπš‘πšŽπš› πšŠπš—πš πšœπš‘πš›πšŽπšπšπšŽπš πšœπš•πš˜πšπšŠπš—πšœ:
|π•¬π–“π–†π–—π–ˆπ–π–ž (𝕻)π–—π–Šπ–˜π–Šπ–—π–›π–Šπ–˜ π•΅π–šπ–‰π–Œπ–Šπ–’π–Šπ–“π–™|

𝙰 πš›πš’πš—πš-𝚊-πš›πš˜πšžπš—πš πšπš‘πšŽ πš›πš˜πšœπš’πšŽ,
𝙰 πšπšŠπš’πšπš‘, 𝚊 πšŒπš˜πš—πšŒπš‘ πšŠπš—πš 𝚊 πš—πš˜πšœπšŽπšπšŠπš’.
π™Ύπš’!

⍟

𝙸 πšπšŽπšŽπš• πš–πš˜πšœπš 𝚊𝚝 πš‘πš˜πš–πšŽ πšŠπš–πš˜πš—πš πšœπš˜πšŒπš’πšŽπšπš’β€™πšœ πš˜πšπšπš’πšπš’πšŽπšœ πš πš‘πš˜ πš’πš—πšŸπšŠπš›πš’πšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšπš˜πš—β€™πš πšŒπšŽπš•πšŽπš‹πš›πšŠπšπšŽ π™²πš‘πš›πš’πšœπšβ€™πšœ π™ΌπšŠπšœπšœ. πš‚πš πš’πš–πš–πš’πš—πš πšπš’πš›πšŽπš•πšŽπšœπšœπš•πš’ πšžπš™πšœπšπš›πšŽπšŠπš– πšŠπšπšŠπš’πš—πšœπš πšπš‘πšŽ πš‘πš˜πš•πš’ πšŒπšžπš›πš›πšŽπš—πš 𝚘𝚏 πšŒπš˜πš—πšœπšžπš–πšŽπš›πš’πšœπš–, πšπš’πš—πšœπšŽπš• πšŠπš—πš πšπšŠπšŒπš”, πšπšžπš›πš”πšŽπš’ πšŠπš—πš πšπš›πš’πšπš•πšŽ, 𝚠𝚎 πš›πš’πšπšŽ πšπš‘πšŽ πšπš‘πš˜πšœπš πšπš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš–πšŽπšŽπš πš˜πšžπš›πšœπšŽπš•πšŸπšŽπšœ πš‘πšŠπš•πšπš πšŠπš’.
β€˜Daith’, β€˜conch’ and β€˜nosegay’ describe a variety of body piercings. Historically, a nosegay (in the small-bouquet-of-flowers sense of the word) was either hand-held or attached to clothing to fend off disease and plague.

β€˜I had choosen the path of the black sheep
rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.’
- Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class
The deep red reminds me of my scars,
The bright green reminds you of your pain,
But on this starry night all we see is white.
Sometimes in the soft stillness of the night
She stirs my stagnant soul

Soft lips
Splashed
Hot and heavy
Against
Sun kissed skin

Stars scattered softly
Between
insecurities
Buried deep within

Those simple, stolen
moments where
We lose sight of
where she ends
And I begin

Stormy shores and endless seas
Of steamy summer nights and autumn breeze

In the soft, stillness of the night
She commands me to my knees.

Full moon, half moon, total eclipse

In the stillness of the night
She shatters me with her lips
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