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Come back home
to where
the Southern Pines sway

Back to the house
where
the warped boards grey

Gravel road
for a drive way

Grass growing
in the middle

Between the ruts
and where the car stays

Front porch swing
flaking green paint

Remember the day
I gave you a ring

You gave me a kiss
All that I may miss

Come back home
to where
the Southern Pines sway
celestial Dec 2018
the moon has hidden away from us tonight;
stolen, with the stars, by the thick mist above us,
this constant presence above our heads.

i close my eyes—
hope, wish, desire that when i open them again,
they will catch the glistening starlight.

perhaps we could share the stars together; them
unchanging, unmoving, unyielding—
unlike the shifting of the earth as it turns

so very like us, our emotions and us,
our toes at the edge of this cliff,
whilst the rocks at the bottom taunt and threaten

as we hold on—fragile, tender, delicate.
i desire to slip and fall sometimes;
let the waves engulf my soul,

but grasp your tainted wrists
with my trembling fingers,

and grasp your blue eyes
with my bruised mind,

carry you away with me,
so that neither of us has to be alone.
i wrote this for my first love. it was a very volatile kind of love. young love. destructive love.
  Nov 2018 celestial
laura
in the cloister, we had coffee
talking something about the soul
today in the cold but sunlit court
with a good girlfriend of mine
is when it struck me:

a pretty Christian girl kind of day
before me, a butterfly kind of day
winging the dark fantasies away
start obeying and getting good habits
would have stayed had i any money
to get the rest of my college degree
kind of day

filling your heart with my replacements
to match my false interpretations
of your expectations of me
  Nov 2018 celestial
Natasha
everything will be alright
though I miss sleeping in your arms every night
I doze, mind floating like a kite
anyways, I'll see you in my dreams
for the rest of my life.

and I'm sorry,
if I get sad sometimes.

my heart aches for the moments we lost,
trying to figure ourselves out in time.

you're the part of me I didn't know
I was missing until I found you

you're the horizon to my sunrise
over a field fresh with dew.
I'm the sunset,
to your ocean, stretched so far, and so blue.

The sun would still exist without the horizon,
beating down hot and bright

and the horizon,
would still stretch faithfully
across the unwavering sky.

yet, without the sun
the horizon serves as an
indistinct dark line.

without the horizon,
the sun wouldn't reach its full beauty
of purples, pinks, and oranges in the sky.

This is why I cry,
for the moments I wish I was there
for all of the sunrises
in your warm arms

and all of the lost sunsets
in your eyes.
celestial Nov 2018
—in november's crevasses
a hollow body hung unhinged
curled around a ****** heart
encircled by translucent skin
bullet holes i tried to stitch
they have begun to come loose
haphazard patterns of thread
tying themselves into a noose
a never-ending cycle.
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