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You hate your body
In a brutal, overwhelming way
That you think no-one else will ever understand.
I know what you do to it,
Helpless in your hatred,
Owned by your despair.
Nothing I can say
Will stop you
Nothing I could do
Would set you free.
All that I could say of your startling beauty
Your powerful presence, and your luminous heart,
Would go unheard.
You will reject appreciation, compliments, desire,
As meaningless, or worse, ridicule,
Because you only see a monster.
There is no way to change this,
I can simply speak of it
And hope that it will help you find some comfort
Having it acknowledged,
Knowing that I know.
The theme for this year
Is betrayal
Both delivered and received.
I have yet to decide
If I am made stronger
Or more fragile
By experiencing both.
I am certainly
A great deal sadder
And a lot more careful
About who I trust
Including myself.
I don't miss you.

Every feeling you had
mirrored my own
uncannily.
You are still my sweet obsession,
Which means, I believe,
That I am yours.

One of us will crumble, stumble,
Into contact.
One of us will come.
And so, I need not miss you,
I am certain, somehow, that we are not done.
You still have a part to play in my life,

You're still there
You still care.
Proved correct 11.12.13
The Moon and the Sun
Are having such fun.
By Rowan.
I felt an unusual twinge in my neck
as I turned toward you.

Heavy breathing signaled morning sleep
as my arm reached across your palpitating belly.

These casual cuddles, typical of the start of our day
emit a warmth unlike sunrays or furnace heat.

No use to wake you or tease apart your legs
for seldom do we play.

That may come after morning news is devoured,
bananas peeled and different morning hungers eased.  

Now i rise to consume small pellets of brown, pink,
grey and white chemicals compounded to keep me alive.

There is a stillness downstairs with greetings from a well-worn chair
contoured to support my soul.

Blades whirl overhead churning a breeze
my face accepts upon my forehead.

Now is my time of meditation, my attempt to
listen to whatever god pervades this universe.

There will be no answers, no jolts of insight or revelations,
only small particles of peace to cover my disquiet.

You will lumber down steps with effort accentuated by creaks
and moans that are more pronounced each day.

Our lips will touch confirming both obligation and willingness
to walk beside each other.

I wonder if you think there could be more?  
Could each gaze toward one another be longer?  

Could I unbutton myself enough to see or would you scold me
for such an unrepressed display?
 Nov 2013 A Mareship
Jedd Ong
A clumsy smattering
Of blood red roses
Spell out three words:

"WE ARE ALL LIARS."
Enter the Dragon.
Dead-eyed doll
Blankly suspended
In suffocating silence
Not waiting
Not wanting
Catatonic
Cold
Benumbed.
He has sold you a **** story
Which you have grasped fiercely
And consumed, embraced, bought into.
What choice do you have?

I know for a fact that doubt germinates
From time to time
Because you know him,
But what choice do you have?
You want to believe.

So I'll leave you with his lies,
Sweet unseer.
If I could be a **** for him,
Then I can be one for you,
With a nobler purpose,
And a steelier resolve.
I will give you what you need,
As he can't and won't.
Believe, believe,
I can't, I don't.
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