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Trapped on my pedestal lofted up high, shrouded by darkness, dreaming of sky, let me dance for you're enjoyment, let me pirouette and spin, release me from my prison it's you're jewelry box I'm in.
Alchemy- written from memories of my younger self and my first jewelry box which contained a tiny ballerina who spun to Claire du lune.
At night I imagine you're arms enfold, as it's me I know they wish to hold, at night I weep for words unsaid for kisses un-given and emotions misread, I weep for the fact that you want to love me, I weep for the fact that I am what I be.
Dysregulation
Beneath this stone there is a heart, it does not beat when we're apart, it does not move, to you I'd prove, my heart remove, its yours to take, but for my sake, to dull this ache, to fill this space that i did make, exchange me yours, there is no clause, there is no test, in me invest, you're heart bequest, our souls coalesce, our love confessed,

                      Forever blessed.
christiaan barnard was the first person to successfully perform the first human to human heart transplant on December 3rd 1967
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, these words have always made me ponder, would you love me more with the space in between, if i moved far away where i couldn't be seen.

where i could only see you're smile in the presence of a dream, if so those who bid me wake would return me to my ache.

where I'd reach for you at night wondering why you're out of sight, wishing I could hold you tight and know everythings alright

Ive never read a poem that speaks of two hearts that beat even stronger whenever apart, or seen plays of young lovers who flee from eachother, who adore from afar, and forget who they are.

I can feel you're phantom kisses and hear you're absent heart, i relive the happy moment to sooth time spent apart.
Absent- thank you to all my fellow poets for your support and encouragement, i really appreciate it.**
My future and my heart, I'll share them both with you, you're happyness my goal in life, nothing i wouldn't do.

To live amongst the countryside where we both enjoy the view, where birdsong greets the rising sun and the day begins anew.

We'd lay amoungst the scented grass and watch the sky change hue, as there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in the arms of you.
Chamomile kisses- chamomile is my favorite fragrance and i am lucky enough to have it growing on my lawn, summer has just begun here and when i lay outside i am enveloped by the scent of chamomile, hence the phrase "scented grass"

Sorry I haven't been posting in awhile , life has been playing it's hand,
Better that every fiber crack
and fury make head,
blood drenching vivid
couch, carpet, floor
and the snake-figured almanac
vouching you are
a million green counties from here,

than to sit mute, twitching so
under prickling stars,
with stare, with curse
blackening the time
goodbyes were said, trains let go,
and I, great magnanimous fool, thus wrenched from
my one kingdom.
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.
Wastes of space, we the scapegrace, blank expressions, poker face.

You're my ace, ahead in the race, they're second place, a futile chase.

Stakes growing higher like an untamed fire, their inevitable pyre, situations dire.

Those who were bold, i watched their hands fold, those who seemed braver, i watched as they waivered, as they fretted and regretted, i watched their faces fall, like a delicate house of cards, gingerly balanced, standing tall.

But i have nout to fear, for my secret ace is here, hidden up my sleeve, to which i dearly cleave, they all want to believe, as losing's what they fear, but losing's all they'll get, while my secret ace is near.
Scapegrace- a mischievous or wayward person, especially a young person or child; a rascal.
Between day and night, choose fight or flight, hide out of sight, shield from the light.

Cocooned in our beds, words trapped in our heads, a poets mind is forming, ideas begin their swarming.

Not conforming
              Lines deforming
                        Minds contorting
                                       Rhymes consorting.
May add more to this later
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