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Grey curl of smoke leaves my mouth,
Ashes scrape my throat.
I won´t play it wrong-
Trying to appear strong.

There´s no fire-
Just  the path to end this.
Gladly, I´d be your player,
Between us, fire burns.

Smoke would hiss.
It started-
With lit cigarette.
My first try at reverse poem
13/5/25
 May 14 Emilia
Gabbro
☐ Learn to play an instrument
☑ See the pyramids
☐ See the northern lights
☑ Have my first kiss
☑ Graduate High School
☐ Ride in a hot air balloon
☑ Fall in love
☑ Nap together
☑ Cook dinner together
☑ Try shrooms
☐ Make him breakfast in bed
☑ Build a snowman
☐ Couples dancing lessons
☑ Go camping together
☐ Make love in a blanket fort
☐ Go backpacking together
☑ Celebrate an Anniversary
☐ Kiss in the rain
☑ Watch a meteor shower together
☐ Take a spontaneous road trip together
☒ Make it work
☐ Have a new year’s kiss
☐ Earn his forgiveness
☐ Start a garden
☐ Raise a dog
☐ Raise a cat
☐ Share a house
☐ Make a home
☐ Plant a tree
☐ Get married
☐ Build a bookshelf by hand
☐ Slow dance in the kitchen
☐ Write a book
☐ Be a family
☑ Choose him again
☑ and again
☐ Be chosen back
For T
 May 14 Emilia
neth jones
...love is hunter sick nerves you enter dream love is puncture it is green with life lush and suffering and kitchen frot and menial wreck and the reburn of childhood excite a spell and sale of a mental thing and incompletely rheumy-tunes...
 May 13 Emilia
jules
You touched me,
and I remembered how stars bleed
before they die.
Maybe if I had looked for you,
Thought this through,
You´d have come by,
I´d have caught your eye,
You´d come around-
Finally we´d be bound:
A heap of cold bones,
You´d find headstones,
My flesh so long rotten,
Just like always, forgotten.
27/4/25
When you’d hunt me down,
Felt like I was given a crown,
My heart grew still and deeper,
Longing for you as its keeper.

You’d stand on the brink,
Our breaths in the sync,
Feeling your nearness,
Ditching the harness,
Standing there bare,
Sinking to your stare.

If you’d hunt me down...
I’d wear it like a crown.
22/4/25
 Apr 11 Emilia
jules
Sometimes the past slips away -
a dream that never was.
But the wanting stays,
like a ghost in the hallway.
We carry it,
each step a little lighter.
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