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i want to live by the sea.
i can imagine myself at the shore for eternities.
even now,
i can hear the waves calling me,
like i'm meant to be there with them.
i want to live by the sea.
nothing is more calming that the waves crashing by your feet.
small hiccups of water that never seem to end.
i want to live by the sea.

i've been wanting to lay under a tree the past week.
laying underneath a blanket and watching the sunlight beam their hands through the openings of leaves.
i want to lay there and watch the branches sway,
slowly taking my worries and unwanted thoughts with every blow of wind.
I want to dive into your thoughts
and never come up
for air
sinking deeper
and deeper
until I drown in all the lines
you've wanted to write
but never have
can we get coffee sometime?
My previous life was a sad song
Till you came along
I withstood the pain through and through
To give way to something new

If I would share
To think you'd care
This is when I'd speak to you

When all of autumn falls
As leaves turn brown
On the grass above
Pictures if captured sooner
The moonlight would enrapture

When the breeze swirls
In heavenly curls
Just like the hair that rests on your shoulders
I'd hug you tighter
To feel what is like to get older

You'd hold me at arms length
Telling me,"I can finally love once again."

The end is getting longer.
The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
The rain has spoiled the farmer's day;
Shall sorrow put my books away?
Thereby are two days lost:
Nature shall mind her own affairs,
I will attend my proper cares,
In rain, or sun, or frost.
The sense of the world is short,
Long and various the report,—
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it,
And how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.
 Oct 2018 Bek Blanchard
egghead
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
 Oct 2018 Bek Blanchard
Colm
The rain falls heavy on my heart
Directly and fervently
With a subtle patter to be heard in part

Reflecting only as tired can be
In being our separate, you and me
We are bound by these, such worlds apart

With ribs thrown open like lighthouse doors
And parted seas, as shallow as these
Such broken chances leave their marks

In pouring self out ever slow, in all these ways
The rain, it falls heavily every day
My life is kept from you apart
Perhaps separation is a matter of perspective. *Nods* And this may sound terribly dramatic. But context. (:
Close your eyes

Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending


Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams

I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland

and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?

I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built


Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
And your body falls into each soft fold
It's here, right here, that I can hold
you close, keep you safe and warm
so you, from the rest of the world
I'll withhold

Consider this a "romantic poem".. but not about me! Actually, this is a story I've sort of written. :)

Hmm, let me try to describe it. A little girl living in a world all her own, a world that's nothing more than an empty quilt with an endless sky. Above her, lives a sort of "sky-creature" and he happens to be in love with her, so he builds her a castle of stars.
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