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 Jun 2014 Ashley Browne
Danny C
You said my face felt
like sandpaper, as you kissed
me with your hand sliding
from my ear down to my neck.

I told you I shaved
my scruffy beard a day before
because you deserved
to see me looking my best.

But even my best wasn't enough
for you to stay in Illinois.
You decided a year ago
to run away to Colorado,
and I would be an anchor
weighing you, dragging
you into a darkened ocean.
 Jun 2014 Ashley Browne
SG Holter
First poem to Tina as my lover no more.

I.

Three years and eight months.
My closest. My one.
She'd stayed through madness
Enough.
I am a man of demons.
As I slayed the last one
I turned to see her having fallen
For the blow
As well.
Women and children
Die first.

II.

We cry. We kiss and cry.
Make love crying.
Laugh crying.
Leaving streaks on her back
Of salty regret
As I kiss her every single
Detail farewell.
How can gratitude for love
Hurt like being hated
By a loved
One?

III.

I take full responsibility.
Never raised a hand, but spoke
Hard and disgusting
Bottled anger.
Her leaving makes it
Poetry; lends meaning.
I'll drink again, but the drunk
Demon
Is dead.

IVa.

Today I'll come home
And forget to cook
For just one.
That Volvo will never
Come speeding down the
Gravel road again containing
Other than an ex
Coming to collect
More things that are no
Longer
Ours.

IVb.

No longer mine. I say like all
Others in grief: *This pain
Is new to me.

I embrace it on the floor
Holding her sweater
That I burned a little
Warming it on the stove for
Her in winter.
Then it's into the box
With it.
I'll leave a tear on her every
Garment, thanking for
The love and passion
They held within.

V.

I look up at skies as blue
As they come.
I will live here alone.
Thanking for all the beauty,
And all we learned from
What wasn't.
All is how it should be.
This was our road to
Travel together.

Be well. Be loved. Be safe.
You owe me nothing.
Be happy for this;
There's growth in it.
You are no longer my
Girlfriend, but you'll
Always be my
Girl.

"Together" was our word.
To Get Her was
My most gracious gift
Since Life.
Now let me cry
Like a child lost.
Then I'll move on,
Being neither.
 Jun 2014 Ashley Browne
SG Holter
I have a black cat.
She crosses the dirt road in front
Of me, every morning.

I should be dead by now.
 Jun 2014 Ashley Browne
Wes
sad*  scared  alone  depressed  It  overwhelmed  ups­et  ignorant
 irrelevant  broken  disgusting  is you  awful  rejected  numb  stupid   
unhappy  lazy­  fat  mad  that protects me from the  hopeless  cold  fear
glum  tragic  pouring rain and you shelter me from the  worked  poor
despair  big wide world and for that I owe you my soul  chubby
sick  and           I          think             that          you         are  wrong
hollow                                              B                                               shame
empty                                               e                                                 envy
anxst                                                a                                            remorse
grief                                                  u                                               greedy
poorly                                               t                                             shallow
fed up                                              i                                             beaten
bullied                                              f                                               guilty
unheard                                           u                                         unneeded
stress                                             l.                                             *bored
I don't particularly like this 'poem'. :)
Without my friend I would feel...
The poet sits in lamplit gloom
alone in ebb and flow
how strange it seems to write of love
but never feel it's glow

A sigh, a lie, a broken heart,
a kiss on untouched skin
yet still this writers heart it sits
uncharted deep within.

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
and stares at paper bare,
then puts to it her broken heart
and leaves it bleeding there.
I once met a man from Kalamazoo
Who bore on his arm an anchor tattoo
One day his lover
Ran off with his brother
Whatever was the poor man to do?

He sat down on a bus bound for Georgia
But somehow he wound up in Maine
And there he said "***** it."
He pretty well blew it
And got on a boat bound for Spain

When the captain was making his rounds
He saw the man grinding coffee grounds
And he saw the mans ink
And he stopped to think
"Is that man a part of the crew?"

That's when the captain's daughter came up
And asked the man if he could spare a cup
When the man met her eye
He nearly did die
For the beautiful woman he spied
I got bored of the hyper-freeform stuff. So I decided to write you all a little limerick.
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