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Corey Sep 16
All of these dandelions
it’s hard to find a flower
deceptive, camouflaged,
simply not yet bloomed

In the emerging heat of Spring
I’m waiting for April showers
By the time they finally come
they pour into my wound

In the end
the love was doomed
Corey Aug 27
in costume, in hiding,
and in all things deceptive
thriving in the unrevealed

she’s popular, happy,
and asking for attention
waiting for a moment alone

she wants to be crying,
naked, and lying in her bed
under covers, like a shield

in hiding, in costume
not from the world around
but from her, and her alone
Corey Aug 13
In the bustling city with cars honking
and sirens wailing, people shouting
and bottles breaking. Where the
lights pollute the air every night
and I wake up at three am
wondering if it’s morning,
or just another broken night:
I still hear you.

In late winter when the snow falls
silently, and the sun lingers
in the sky, lifelessly. When the
nights drag on and days are short
enough to make me wonder
why I keep getting up
before the darkness is filled:
I still see you.

In sorrow that surrounds my thoughts
as they collapse in on themselves,
I wonder what I did to deserve
someone who will pick me up
and hold me among the noise
around me, and in my head.
Through the noise and deafening silence:
I still feel you.
Corey Jun 25
Don’t let it control you
don’t let it seep in
think about the honey bee smothered in pollen
the way grass flows in the wind
flowers blooming in spring time,
growing
the birds singing in the morning light
and dancing through the sky
the trees constantly being reborn
after becoming barren
through harsh winters

Don’t let it control you
don’t let it seep in
think about the wind rustling the leaves
the constant flow of rushing rivers
clouds drifting across the sky,
reshaping
the mountains rising tall and steady
above the Earth
the ocean waves pulling at the shore
constantly pulling and pushing
by the moons will

Don’t let it ask too much of you
to the point where you ask
yourself if any of your troubles,
bad days, and sorrows
will ever be worth it
instead,
think about cotton candy colored skies
and the burst of color in a sunrise
while the moon lingers in the daylight
and stars hide
until the next clear night
Corey Jun 13
Grandma was sitting in front of the TV again.
Watching her favorite ball players and
answering puzzles correctly
until she felt too tired to continue.
Always looking for a playful fight
with her favorite grandsons.

Grandpa was reading the newspaper again.
Always gathering information about
politics and world affairs,
and then telling others what he could.
Informing his family of what’s happened
in Washington that weekend.

Grandma was hunched over outside again.
Dirt collecting under her nails and
caked to her palms as she planted
new flowers in front of the house.
A calm Thursday afternoon,
not too chilly for April,
full of birds chirping around her.

Grandpa was working downstairs again.
Always tasked with some new project and
asking my help when he didn’t really need it.
Showing me how to use tools and
measure things correctly,
and telling stories of things he’s made in the past.
Corey Jun 10
It’s hard to push the clouds
of smoke away by yourself
It’s hard to want to do it
when the cloud became comfort
When the smoke fills more of
your lungs than oxygen
When your vision is always hazy
and it’s hard to keep your eyes open.
It’s hard when someone asks you
to want to save yourself
when you don’t want to
push the clouds away.
Not yet.
Corey Jun 7
This is the heart I’ve had;
a heart that gives before it gets.
And while it waits for some release
from its generosity,
it’s mostly full of regrets.

It’s been broken, battered, and bruised;
constricted so it cannot grow.
And when it’s backed into a corner
it shuts itself down
and has a hard time saying no.

It wants to love and please my family,
every lover, and every friend.
But when it comes to those,
who I want to love more
it burns out quickly instead.

It aches in most situations
where it doesn’t feel absolutely.
But when it comes to pain
it embraces it all
because it believes that is its duty.

It uses pain to be creative
but then abandons its creations.
And when I ask it to do better
it sighs, cries,
and loses any patience.

This is the heart I’ve had;
a heart that gives before it gets.
And when its down and out
full of only doubt
my mind will do its best.
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