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I sat
by the window
in the cafe
in the corner

the snow was gone
the wind savaged

people were walking
to the movies
to their cars
some held drinks
some held hands

and I was there
looking through the veil
masked in apathy
sipping from my cup
hoping
it will snow
again
An experimental Bukowski style free verse poem.
But there are oceans behind my eyes
And lumps in my throat
That I hush with empty songs  

The gardens outdoor are sprouting yellow flowers
But the grass in my heart is covered in ice  
The rain floods my lungs  
With regrets that pin me to concrete floors

My voice muffled by deafening thoughts
And my dreams haunted by the ghosts of lovers I lost  
My body shivers to the December memories
And the thought of your face

Let me stitch the wounds that you cut open  
With the frail strings of hope that I will see you again
She
Silence is now a staring face in the darkness
She sits with me at full tables
And sings with me in the shower
We lie on damp gardens and look at rainy skies

She has been a loyal companion on car rides
And on trips to places
She dances by herself on evenings in the balcony
While I look outside

She is my loudest scream
But also my struggle against writing
I adore her for all that she is
A lover, an admirer and a bully

For some, she is no friend at all
And for some
She is just about everything
So many quiet constellations
And shooting stars in your eyes
Night’s darkest revelations
In your beautiful black hair

All of world’s warmth
Held prisoner
In your disarming smile

You are a funeral to my heart
A carefree transgression

Building and burning walls
Around my love
You show me the paths to
My own destruction

Are you the dark angel
I longed for
Or the light that will
Set me free?
He was a crossword puzzle
And I had just begun to learn the alphabets

To him, I was a jigsaw
Broken, strewn across senselessly

On nights when there was nothing but silence
He loved me and my blues

He was beginning to learn my many faces
The dark insides and the lighter contours

Soon, I was afraid
That he might discover
How achingly plain I remained

— The End —