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 Jan 2018 Aaron Combs
Gia Garcia
He was the sun, and I was the moon.
Without him, I couldn't illume the night.
I took all the darkness, he had morning and noon,
Without each other, the world wasn't right.
He was the fire, and I was the ice.
He'd bring the chaos without thinking twice.
Whatever flesh he burns, I come to aid.
I touch him without ever being afraid.
He was the ground, and I was the sky.
Aware of each other, but turn a blind eye.
He gave me vapor, I gave him the weather;
It was our only way of being together.
He was the mass, and I was the space.
And without hesitation, in my life, he took place.
I let him consume me, I didn't mind, you see,
I was just happy that somebody needed me.
He was he, and I was me.
What a fool I've been to trust and believe
That we need each other, when the sad truth is,
All there has been for us, was to coexist.
For bub
"I don't write poetry any more,"
she said
and threw down the shot of wild turkey.

she was beautiful once.
now, her eyes trapped  
and frightened.

her lips moved
but it was the rain that spoke to me.

she glorified in self destruction
like an actress in a greek tragedy  
or a boxer past his prime

dark violets, gardenas, and red roses
she sits behind a tombstone
picking flowers
waiting.
my daughter and her friend
scream and laugh
watching a scary movie.

i listen to them.

a moment of heaven
reverberating
through the universe
of our brief lives.

a moment when the struggle of life is forgotten.
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