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Ink
Ink is like an incurable virus
once it reaches the paper
there is way to remove it.
Pepsi colas cooling in the well
The perfumed smell of first cut hay
Life's peeks and valleys , days were made easy -
in a piedmont shady dale* ....
Copyright July 9 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Crying Night

You said mean
nasty
horrible
teasing
things

you didn’t think
about what you said
to me

I turned my back
and we sat in silence.
The glow of our phones lighting up our faces
mine, sad
yours, oblivious

mine, a way out of our plans tomorrow
yours, Facebook scrolling

then,
the last straw
the tip of the iceberg
it wasn’t the things he said that night
it was everything
it was me feeling like I wasn’t good enough
our hearts filled not equally

mine, full, overflowing, even
yours, unsure,
you turned to me and tried to make me giggle
react
laugh
at a post
I shoved you
and the flood gates opened
first quietly
then raging
heavy, breathe taking sobs
crying crying

then you realized
this wasn’t a joke
you held me tight
and I told you why
All of it, and you laid and listened
silence
shhhhhh you said.
shhhhhh you’re okay.
shhhh

No,
No I’m not
this isn’t okay.


why am I not enough
the way I feel is too much
I shouldn’t have to hold it all back
You’ve turned me into an insomniac
She hangs on by a thread
Becoming old and tattered
Knowing soon it will break
Unknowing what will happen after
All her dignity her grace
Wrapped into this thread that's worn
Her strength and fortitude
Teetering on the edge
Fingers numb and bloodied
As tight as she has wound it
Just hanging on for sanity
Pain letting her know she is alive
She wants to say enough
Just let go
But her will is stronger
than this thread that binds
The thread will not break...
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