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I used to think that I loved you for
your near-perfection...
But there was just something about
the two of us
Our love was ingenuine, and later,
we realized, impossible

Ironically, it's been the revelations
of your imperfection
That have, I think, made it possible,
for the first time
For us to love- not that we ever
will, not that we ever should
Because, let's face it, it would
probably be awful, it's just-
It's just that your imperfections
Have allowed me to see, once again
Though so much more truly this
The possibility of you and of I

So let's get addicted to cigarettes
together, darling
And running, too
In a supreme dialectic of destroying
ourselves from within
While struggling to better ourselves
from without
Something that may be, I think
The ultimate story of ourselves

(Or at least of myself-
I wonder why
I've only ever been truly drawn to
By their brokenness...

But perhaps it's better
Not to think about it.)
With the moon as the conductor
The symphony of lights begins
As the heavens open in anticipation
Stars one by one come filing in

With each rhythmic starlight flicker
Keeping in tune with the galaxy
Entire planets hold their breath in wonder
From everlasting to everlasting nebula breeze

It all plays out in harmony
Keeping perfect 3/4 time
Such beauty not held by boundaries
Seen and heard light years through time
How do you do it?
Give your love away so easily
So freely
Only a few times we met
And yet you bid me farewell
With an
I love you

I thought maybe
It had slipped out
Too late to be caught
In the heat of the moment
To be followed by distraught

But you said it everytime
Signed it like your name
At the end of every message
At a point where I think
I don't even know you yet

You don't even know me yet
But what I know is that
Love is too strong a word
To be distributed prematurely

Love is too strong a word
To be used so often
Oh my god I love this
Soon to be discarded

The special kind of love
The one where you really mean it
Is always present
It need not be announced

Love is spontaneous
And unexpected
Not necessarily repeated
Said like you mean it

*it's like the more you use something the cheaper it becomes. It sort of loses its effect and becomes common or habitual.
 Jul 2013 Amanda Blomquist
I will never tell you that you look beautiful.
I will never tell you that (you) look lovely.
Because those statements hinge on sundresses
and too much time looking in the mirror.
After all, it is just a piece of glass.
And you (are) too,
because I see right through the beaming
reflections on your skin.
And you are deeper than the ocean,
calmer than it too.
As sweet as dripping honey,
and as (soft) as morning dew.
You’re that feel(i)ng at 2 (am), when the Sun
is asleep and somehow I still don’t feel alone.
And you are every gentle raindrop landing
on (quiet) rooftops in late July.
Your roots sink further than lofty White Oaks,
and your reach extends far beyond their branches.
You keep every beam of sunlight,
your eyes like glowing coals,
and every morning the horizon must borrow
from all the splendor that you hold.
They fill books with all your essence,
and it’s still never enough.
So I will call you what you are.
You are lovely.
You are beautiful.
emptiness has never felt so fulfilling.
nothingness has never weighed so much.
loneliness has never been so comforting.
intangibility i've never been able to touch.

freedom has never felt so conflicted.
innocence has never felt so unclean.
distance has never felt so constricted.
simplicity has never felt so serene.

trust has never felt so unnatural.
truth has never felt so far away.
beauty has never been so factual.
paths have never lead this far astray.

lifetimes have never lasted this long.
but seconds have never been so short.
words I could never put into song.
so writing them is my last resort.

Existence isn't free.
Misery is the cost.
I've never felt so "me".
I've never felt so lost...
I ache for you,
for your taste,
your skin,
your warmth.

Show me how we are made, my love.

*We are made of fiber,
of hidden moon.
In this tormented city,
we are made to dissolve,

in shadows,
in whispers,
in flare.
The sheer magnitude of what hung in suspension above me
The faint glimpses of the milky way galaxy iridescent and lovely
Desert sand the bed I longed for all this time
Trapped in awe I feel the stars shine
Down onto my skin caked with dust from whipping winds
Eyes set to what feels like heaven begging to be let in
Unaware I'm engulfed in it from the dust to silt to the limestone that warms my weathered soul
I can't fathom what holds
These stars above me immersed in their glory
Finally a part of all that lies before me
Never more at home than I am at this instant
Finally seeing I'm not looking at the fabric of the universe but rather I'm woven in it
This is for the outspoken racists
The short-sighted chauvinists
The one-sided misogynists
And every avid supporter of any form of intolerance

I think it's time I give you a piece of my mind
Allow me to crack through my cranium and you can
Extract whichever lobe of my brain you find suitable to fix your mental feebleness

Take my frontal lobe, I beg you because
Your so called conscientious thoughts
Permanently belong in the dumpster
Your brain flies confederate flags at half mast
As a constant reminder that even if
The South doesn't rise again you can still rest
Knowing you wave ignorance blissfully in the air

Or maybe you should have my parietal lobe
Since your manipulation of information is highly suspect
I suspect you've placed bigotry and hostility under solid ground
Equipped with enough racial slurs and misogynistic remarks
To blow up this whole town
Homegrown nouns and verbs conducting your own personal weapon of mass destruction
Corrupting the ears that welcome your mushroom clouds

Then again, your occipital lobe is out of whack too
Considering whether gray clouds paint the sky or
Royal waves reflect golden rays
All you ever see is black or white, gay or straight
Wrong or right, hate and hate
And I hate to break it to you
But you are blind to the beauty before us all
Your eyes fail to focus in on how we all
Lose scarlet plasma to paper cuts
Gain white hair and hardened scars
And share copper casket homes six feet deep

I almost forgot about your temporal lobe
That needs an entirely new design
Because it seems as though through all of this outrage
You can't process the filth in your mind
Like the smell of your own rotten attitude
Escapes your nostrils and pollutes the openness around you
Preventing any genuine intention the air it needs to breathe

Your entire brain is a train wreck
You need professional intellectual injections
Red pen corrections that can transform your neural network
Into a well-oiled machine fueled by tolerance
Overflowing with premium petroleum enhanced with high grade sensitivity to diversity

I want your synapses to fire positive discussions
Rather than recreate cerebric tyranny
I want your gray matter to mind its manners
To render exceptional positions
So your point of view refuses to point fingers
I want your prejudices pressure washed so far down
Your head's highway that they resort to becoming full-time pedestrians
I want your ability to communicate eliminated unless
You annihilate the venom from your vocabulary

But the choice is yours
You're voice is yours
And I won't take it from you
This is not a debate nor a dispute over your vernacular
Hate speech is undeniably your native language
And unfortunately you own the right to be as wrong as your words allow you to be
Instead this is merely a message that I hear your hostility
A not so subtle reminder that your narrow-mindedness is nauseating
And this society has enough deadly diseases to deal with
To drill your acceptance defect straight through your skull
But please feel free to take any part of my mind
And find the time to perform your own lobotomy
So maybe then you'll understand
That intolerance has no place in anyone's anatomy
I see in the distance
The void begin to fade
Humanity in resistance
Red clouds filled with rain
An implemented stain
Infiltrated by societal ‘gain’

A foot in steps of three
Beginning change that is still unseen
To the newfound eye
Opening sounds of distant pain
How they laugh at our silly chain
Running short of being simple
To rather complicate
Life in the eyes of death

If I could turn the clock forward
And purge unto the heavy stream
That carries me
Past the earths darkened sky
To the recurring
Eternal essence of divinity
I would take us all
To where being is exposed
Floating and imposing
Time in hands of fate
In space, reoccurring
And life in one
Consistency of all
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