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 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
hannah b
your lips have melted iron

tasted the wicked, subtle, penny-bitter condensation
off of my skin
and within myself
within that place

i’m so sorry that it wasn’t the
smooth cold of porcelain
you’re used to
but i think part of you likes that
it’s not

you want me to cut up your tongue, just a little

that’s all you’ve ever wanted
someone to love you
fiercely. uncontrollably.

is this really what you wanted?
and to think i hold so much back, so tightly,
for both your sake and mine.

my sweet darling it is simply pandemonium
 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
nivek
something turns the aged coils of mind
-to flip an idea into art

a poet is reborn to be reborn
-within each coil of their song

snake minded eating the forbidden
-we trudge into our past

coming back with a handful
-of experience, denial, and mysterious calm.
 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
B
Poppies
 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
B
in my coarse sorrow
and aching qualm
i think of febrile tomorrows
for
what am i
but a girl obsessed with winter’s poppies
in a torrid mid-July
I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
    oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
    themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
    neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
    of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
    hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
    prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
    shall be ****’d, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
    laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out
    upon,
See, hear, and am silent.
Be composed—be at ease with me—I am Walt Whitman, liberal and ***** as Nature;
Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you;
Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you,
do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you.

My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make
preparation to be worthy to meet me,
And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come.

Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that you do not forget me.
 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
Oka
You are a messy soul
Wandering through life
What I offer is love
Too much for you to repay
Worry not, as I acknowledge that
Guilt is a toxin to the soul
I hope you can see that
A field of sunflowers
Waits for you everytime
Sunflowers are a symbol of loyalty.
 Nov 2019 Samantha Cunha
Shallow
Could I tell you the ways in which you free me?
Or sing to you a song of gold?
Could a needle stitch a quilt of sorrow?
Or keep our love from growing old?
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