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Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul
some strings are cut
when there are no rational ends
to untie the knot.

IA
I LIKE TO SAY YOUR NAME

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound
only

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.
Hi
Years ago
We stayed up till
3 am talking,
And today
I don’t even know
How to say hi,
I keep writing about you
day in and day out
I can’t help it
the words possess me
then keep me up at night
I’m jolted out of bed
just to breathe life
into these blank pages
now tainted with your name
verses about the way
you made me feel
stories about the love
that never existed

But what is it all for?
I look up and only your
o b l i v i o n
stares back at me
I keep wondering why
it’s so hard to be human
happiness is fleeting and
we can’t win against time
we chase after the sun only
to burn at the last second
we get attached to what
we will inevitably lose
we’re already at the mercy
of our own minds yet
we keep hurting each other
it’s so hard to be human and
I keep wondering why
I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know
Now I see
my path
of growth.
It’s one
where I fall
head over
heels
for every version
of myself
that got
lost
along the way.
 May 2020 Mercedes Quammie
Colm
Write me in as I would of you
And stumbling onward
We walk

Converse with me as the trees speak to trees
And our whispers will grow in full
As we talk
Sprained Ankle is pretty underrated

— The End —