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I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Forgive me
I am on the mend
My vagus nerve
Seemingly cut
Has made it difficult
For me to breathe
The blow was sudden
The pain severe
What's the consequence
Of a severed nerve?
One of such importance?
An irregular heartbeat,
Unbridled anxiety,
Laborious speaking,
An ambush attack.
The day before
I was loved
And now I am not
I feel like I have failed in many aspects of my life, especially when it comes to keeping a relationship together.
You have walked by my side
From the time I was a child
You are a beauty
Dark and ugly
Just like me
You are suppression
You are fear
You scream out loud
Everything I don't want to hear
My little light
Is shrouded by you
Take my tiny hand
We'll walk this life together
A knowing nod to you
As I stare in the mirror
Little Demon
You are mine
Sit on my shoulder
Til the day I die.
I have decided to let her walk beside me. She has carried me far.
 Feb 2021 Heart of Silver
 Feb 2021 Heart of Silver
I can't wash off the flower she drew
on my arm earlier this afternoon
A forget me not.
A game of 'she loves me. she loves me not'
A knot untied
I feel the fear that Narcissus must have felt as his ears turned to petals,
his hair to vines.
and his scream to a blooming flower
 Jan 2021 Heart of Silver
I can no longer relate to the vengeful breakup songs on the radio.
But I can’t relate to the ones about love.
So what am I related to?
In the movies, when two people go spinning apart,
they always come back together in a crescendo
and a last kiss,
before the screen goes black.
But we didn’t get that.
I didn’t run in a baby blue dress to your door
at the same time that you opened it
and immediately everything was better.
We just continued to break,
and break,
and break.
Now we are ash and dust,
remnants of a lost love scattered to the wind.
We do not get a sparkling, happy ending.
Instead, you won’t accept the blame
and I’m trying my best to move on.
I guess it just wasn’t us.
You were not the answer to my question
and I did not belong in your melody.
I know there will never be a day that I can fit into your song.
I can live with that,
but can you?
Hi! This is the first poem I've published in my life. It doesn't rhyme and my grammar is horrible so to call it a "poem" is shaky at best. Nonetheless, I hope at least one person out there finds something in this to take away.

Only you

Various ways

Excellence in my eyes day to day.
Four black paws
and a few white whiskers
into my space,
a new face.
Lost my heart to midnight fur
and a tentative purr..
Sigh. Love is what it is.
Under the birthstones
in the carcass yard
is where the flesh tombs lie.
Decomposing for three long years.
Eradicating memories,
dreams and fears.
Becoming next, the black gloop
treacle of putrification.
Now bones, just old bones
is the remain of what was once,
a spirit with a name.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Birthstones = gravestones
Carcass yard = graveyard
Flesh tomb = a body (alive or dead)
Time collapses between the lips of strangers
my days collapse into a hollow tube
soon implodes against now
like an iron wall
my eyes are blocked with rubble
a smear of perspectives
blurring each horizon
in the breathless precision of silence
one word is made.

Once the renegade flesh was gone
fall air lay against my face
sharp and blue as a needle
but the rain fell through October
and death lay    a condemnation
within my blood.

The smell of your neck in August
a fine gold wire bejeweling war
all the rest lies
illusive as a farmhouse
on the other side of a valley
vanishing in the afternoon.

Day three    day four    day ten
the seventh step
a veiled door leading to my golden anniversary
flameproofed free-paper shredded
in the teeth of a pillaging dog
never to dream of spiders
and when they turned the hoses upon me
a burst of light.
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