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  Mar 19 Traveler
your girl b
I met a woman who wiped my tears
Who listened to my traumas from the past years
She never judged, she stayed calm in my storms
So much so that it never dawned on me that she was worn
From all the hate I spilled making messes left and right
Burning bridges and reacting out of spite
She held on she was tough
But her future holds the light
Therefore she had to leave
She could not stay
I begged and begged and reminded her promise to be here when our hair turned grey
I have never known a love like hers
A woman who puts others before her
That's where I want to stay
That's where I'll spend my nights
I will have to change if I want a spot in her light
  Mar 19 Traveler
Mark Bell
You sweet woman
With a heart of steel
If I crack the safe
Do we have a deal.
If I fall
no need to react,
Im quite tenacious
I will bounce back.
The code to your heart
Will be difficult to break
It’s like swimming
Inside a frozen lake.
I know your worth it
Your pure gold inside
So Im prepared
To take this task and
Crack it with pride.
I think I’ve found
a weak point I needed
A break
In going to entice
with
Some
chocolate cake.
  Mar 18 Traveler
Daniel Tucker
The shaking of a reed
The movement of the water
The flickering of a flame

The crying of a child
The weariness of the labourer
The burning skin from the sun

The salty tears of guilt
The racking pain of loneliness
The swan song of past glories

The masks of complacency
The contracts of acceptance
The closing of the mind

The continuing saga
The words that fill the pages
The lot in life we share
© 2025 Daniel Tucker
  Mar 18 Traveler
Zack Ripley
We always search for meaning.
We always ask for reasons why things happen.
But we can never seem to agree.
What if that's because meaning is an extension of our perspective?
They say beauty is In the eye of the beholder. What if we considered meaning the same way?
  Mar 17 Traveler
Nishu Mathur
Somewhere tucked on a bookshelf is a book.
Dogeared, yellow pages with a hand written note.

In a box, lie trinkets — gifts, a pendant of Annie, a book mark.
Hand made cards, smudged with time.

An old doll almost intact,
Broken spectacles, pictures, a watch and postcards.

Some may call it clutter, junk —
And it’ll all go when I go.

But to me, they are the reason behind my smile, an odd tear.

More precious than collectibles or art —
They are pieces of my life,
My world and heart.
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