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staring at a screen
it says ‘bad gateway’
what does it mean?

I don't know
but I've seen this before
that's why I'm in
survival mode
it's gonna be okay
I'll just take the next road
left

writing poems...
in my head
 Aug 13 Birdie
Bekah Halle
the nook of her back
elicits sensations in me
exhilarating;
greater than a drop of espresso
or crack,
I am alive with desire, free —

but will I step forth
and meet she?
In an emptiness designed by no one

tried
to print
touch
 Aug 13 Birdie
Louise
Is it every time I say no? Or couldn’t say no?
Is it every time I don’t do what they say?
Is it every time I say yes to what hurts?
Or is it every time I do what I don’t want to?
When do I stop being beautiful?
Is it whenever I don’t smile or be nice?
Is it whenever I don’t agree or nod?
Is it whenever I become what they think?
Or is it whenever I belong just to feel seen?
When am I not beautiful?
Is it every time I cross the street as expected?
Is it every time I stay still on the sidewalk?
Is it everytime I play pretend, even play dead?
Or is it everytime I laugh off unwanted jokes?
When do I stop being pretty?
Is it whenever my lips pray, sing, read poems?
Is it whenever I don’t open them to curse?
Is it whenever I only talk about art, not probe?
Or is it when I don’t ask questions or news?
When am I not pretty?
Is it every time I say no? Or couldn’t say no?
Is it every time I don’t do what they say?
Is it every time I say yes to what hurts?
Or is it every time I do what I don’t want to?
 Aug 13 Birdie
AUSTIN
I feel it pull
on me,
im not meant
for it,
the weight
of love
-i felt this tug on my heart in the middle of the night, that ache to be held by someone, but the wound hurts to much. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll love again
 Aug 13 Birdie
Rastislav
She sat alone, beside the door
not asking much, not asking more.

She didn’t wait for steps to fall
but for a glance.
No cry. Just call.

. . .

She wasn’t silent out of fear,
nor lost for words that wouldn’t clear.

She simply held that hush so deep
your broken soul
could rest, could sleep.

. . .

When you were cruel, she did not shake.
When you were low, she’d bend, not break.

She breathed like grass, a quiet thing,
forgave it all, just with a blink.

. . .

You could have left.
Or screamed. Or lied.
Or tossed your anger off with pride.

She knew it all.
She didn’t plead.
She breathed, just breathed
like hope, like need.

. . .

And if you left and never came
past morning’s hush, beyond the flame

she still would sit…
no names, no cries…
and watch the night
as if
it shines.
 Jun 27 Birdie
Limes Carma
I didn’t want to fall apart mid-sentence,
So I said less and asked more questions.
Tuned out love songs, skipped our street —
I made avoiding you look complete.

I smile and nod when your name is mentioned,
As if it doesn't pull me out of the conversation
They throw it around casually, like it's not cutting right through —
I guess I never got to cry out about you.
© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma
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