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 13h Ink Empress
alia
she tiptoed on teaspoons,
drank sunsets from a straw,
taught a goldfish to waltz
in a teacup of awe.

her shadow wore slippers
made of old lullabies,
and her laughter?
a jellybean storm in disguise.

she planted her dreams
in a shoebox of stardust,
whispered,
"grow wild, not wise."

when asked her name,
she smiled sideways,
and became
a question mark in the sky.
We dress the wreckage
Hang fairy lights in the ruins
And call it ambiance
Throw words like 'Resilience' at bleeding walls
To feel like we survived on purpose
We stitch apologies on shirts we outgrew
Paint over scorch marks
With pastel hope
And act surprised when the fire
Still smells like us
We prop the broken door open
With books about healing and call it art
A metaphor
Anything but what it is
Grief in a new dress
Still dragging the same bones
The weight of unspoken words
-Sorelle
Dreaming of moonbeam nights
Light hypnotic breezes
Trees gently swaying
Wind chimes playing
Scents of lilac in the air

Dreaming of moonbeam nights
Walks along the beach
Sounds of waves hitting the shore
Gulls flying by

Dreaming of moonbeam nights
Dinner by candlelight
Romantic music playing
Slow dancing

Dreaming of moonbeam nights
Soft touches
Gentle smiles
Bright laughter

Dreaming of moonbeam nights
Hidden places
Cherished moments

Dreaming of moonbeam nights
With you
I want to nibble
just a little
a bite of thought,
a crumb of dream.

Not to hurt
just to hold
the way your wonder
tastes.
Haiku – Some Fun
Haikus are fun
You can put in a little
Something like a pun

Haiku – In My Brain
Haiku in my brain
I can’t stop I’m just insane
Haiku don’t complain

Haiku – *******
I see stars, I fell
It’s hot, am I in some hell
Get up you *******

Haiku – For You
Haiku just for you
Learned to count them 5-7-5
Now I’m stuck to you

Haiku - Till Morning
Last one for the night
I can only dream some more
Can’t wait till morning
Ok. I'm getting a little carried away. My last group for a bit.
When I reach for free time
as an adult,
and quickly find it taken,

I remember that ambrosia
is only for the gods,
and mortals beware,

do not interfere
in anything
made for the gods.
I love Greek myths, but common. Where are days of nothing?
my eyes surveil an unconscious world
saturation, a curse
who cares if my blood is a deep crimson
or my veins a bluish hue
my sadness are clouds permeating a blue sky
pupils fear the eyelids
darkness is a danger
no color saves me there
the lens of my eye crack, reflect
they film all the mechanical details
robots moving, smiling:
all silver, all wiring faulty
my eyes are no different from a digital camera
i can never capture true color, nor true beauty
the red of a rose pierces my iris, and leaves its trail on the whites of my eyes.

her eyes surveil a waking world
deuteranopia, skewing her views
the rods and cones of her eyes rebelling against her sight
the red of blood and the green of grass blend into a singular shade
an olive, or mustard color, it’s not unpleasant
the sunset is painted differently
like God mixed different paints when He stroked his brush across the sky
the sun shines all the same
the brightness still leaves spots in her vision, and reflected in her eyes are the words
words i will never understand
the film of her eyes run out, constantly
black reels spool out of her eyes, like tears
but she smiles still
she can’t see the difference between a tomato and an apple
but the sweetness is still there
her lens have been cracked, but glued together
by the colors of her soul.

its blind to me
my eyes fade to static, while hers heightens in quality
perhaps it is why i have been staring at her,
while she stares at the sun.
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