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 Apr 2015 Bas Aeon
Akaash Patel
I don't want to hear a promise, unless it involves your happiness.
I just want you to promise me you'll be fine.
When you stand still, the world keeps moving.
So promise me you'll make the best out of your time.
I don't need to hear a promise, unless it involves your laugh.
Just promise me you'll build dreams, be free and make them last.
 Apr 2015 Bas Aeon
Joshua Haines
In flashes,
her face dances
on top of a
broomstick body.

She refills
coffee cups and
her stomach with
butter pecan ice cream
and lovers' saliva.

But her lovers are
strangers
and her mouth is a
place
where secrets are locked
behind smoke stained teeth.

In flashes,
her ambitions escape
into the jet black night.
Cigarettes dropping like
sputtering fruit flies.

A size seven New Balance
buries a Marlboro corpse,
burning out like the light
in her kiwi eyes.

She returns to the diner.
What echoes reign free.
 Apr 2015 Bas Aeon
Crucifix
I wish you knew my poetry about you. Maybe then you would know me too.
Words are hard to write. How the memory tend to bite. I once lost one I loved. Not a breakup.
I don't know how to make this a poem.
Nothing seams authentic if I try.
Its so hard to be "just the boyfriend."
They lost a daughter. I need to grive but its all out of place.
They say each kind of loss is equal but different let me tell you how mine went:
This little voice inside you starts poking a finger at you telling you her suicide was your fault. Then it jabs harder and harder until you want to die.
you run the scenario every ******* way you can but it doesn't help.
Because you were the boyfriend. You had one ******* job and you ******* it up. Be there. And you know what you know you were there. You know you were. So why does it hurt so bad? Because you were the boyfriend. You had one ******* job and you ******* it up.
Repeat that last paragraph about 50,000 times. While everyone else moves on.
2 years of my life. Made worthless without
her.
supposedly it gets easier right? It doesn't. It gets more manageable? Someday I just can't manage it.
I know this is me ******* and flailing my arms but I feel this is a better place then any to get it out.
Yeah. Look I really believe writing helps heal. I'm not really looking for help but I figure if Arlo Disarray is brave enough to put her pain down on words she can face. Maybe its time I did too. I don't know I just need to scream. My apologies if I offended anyone.

— The End —