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Ashlyn Rimsky Mar 28
it slips
and it dips.

it falls
to the wayside,
like clothing
on the floor
or brown hair
on a pillow.

it waves
in piles
of misplacement
that crash
and fall,

rippling
and blurring
from one day
to the next.
Ashlyn Rimsky Jan 15
There is more paint on my hands
Than my canvas,
Which is blessed with an image
Of my dog's ****, and I love it.

There is a small stain
Of yellow splattered memory
From when I knocked over
The paint tube for the 17th time,
And no one yells. I love it.

It is a Friday night at 24,
My first night alone in my apartment.
All of my friends are drinking,
Or spending time with their partners,
But I am here, drinking wine out the bottle,
Sneaking leftovers out the fridge with my bare hands,
Spilling paint all over my ******* self,
Painting a silly doggy ****,
And for once
I am happy
Alone.
Everyone asks
"Aren't you afraid
To travel all alone?"

I reply
"Not at all.
I am afraid
To never have gone."
My lunch was a lamb at some time.

I wonder where he lived,
Where he walked, if he got to
Feel the grass beneath his feet,
Feel the breeze on his wool,
If he had any friends.

I gave it no thought.

I wonder if he had any.

I wonder if he got to live the good life
They say I've been living.

I ought to be more grateful.
Ashlyn Rimsky Dec 2021
I used to write a lot,
I had a lot to say.

These days I am quieter,
It's easier that way.
Ashlyn Rimsky Dec 2021
I looked outside and saw
The leaves had fallen off,
The grass had yellowed
Some time ago.
I did not notice
For quite some time.

I saw my hands in the glow of clouds
And wondered,
How long has it been?
How much time has gone by?

I want so much more
Than four walls and a bed,
To simply wake up,
pillow under my head,
A meal in my stomach
But I am simply fed up.

The way set in place
By society, blindly
Tapping my way through
A 9-5, 8-6, 7-9,
Why?

When did I lose
The dream for something more?
I am drowning, weighed down
By rigid rules and indecision.
I worry it's too late to save me.
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