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 Apr 2020 Corrinne Shadow
anna
Your now
is not your forever
but
forever
is composed of nows;
Stuck in yet another loop.
 Apr 2020 Corrinne Shadow
lX0st
I will dance
And I will spin
Until the room blurs
And the lightless gaps
Between swaying bodies
Absorb my ache
And longing

I will twist
And I will wring
Dizzily releasing
Whatever still clings
To my depleting soul
And replace it with champagne

And I will dance
 Apr 2020 Corrinne Shadow
lX0st
Does your body know you’re awake?

Does it lay there,
Restless
Aching for attention
Dreaming of sensations,
Spiritual suspension
Endless thoughts churning
Trying to backstroke
Chin-deep
In the shallow end?

And as you float
Half immersed
And lucid waves gently raise
The tips of your fingers, the
Hairs on your neck
So above and below
Satisfaction’s sweet edgeβ€”
Think of me, insatiably
Before you drift off weary ledge

Until tomorrow,
Where I’m sure we’ll meet again
 Apr 2020 Corrinne Shadow
lX0st
I’ve sobbed for hours,
Then for days,
Ache blurring lifeless gaze
Stolen breaths come incomplete
And, too quickly, are replaced.
I’ve sobbed from twilight until noon
Filling this entire room
Watching skin succumb to prune
Hair, molasses, β€˜round my neck
Pirouettes to desperate croon.
I’ve sobbed through sunrise and sunset
Muddled orange and violet
Lighting crests of waves deflect
Fading as they intersect.
I sob for eras and for lives
Until none of them survive,
So what light exists beyond the depth
Can magnetize and resurrect,
And eyes can greet horizon new
Reflecting glowing golden hue
Desaturating retrospect
As currents sway to sovereign tune.
apple tree
glimmering white as the Sun
shimmering with hope
She lived on
the outskirts of sanity,
took up jogging
to outrun the rush
of other voices,
burned a sick day
organizing her own criticisms,
shaved her legs and edges
for practice sake,
trimmed her disorders
as "normal" girls do,
bought a fancy dress
to envy but never wear,
made marks on the calendar
to believe she had places to be,
like the local
coffee shop,
where they serve
a favorite flavor,
somewhat stable,
somewhat frenzy.
Inspired by the poem title "Outskirts," by fellow HP writer Amanda.
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