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Carolina P Jun 2015
Trace the lines
Breathe out, you're fine.
The cracks are only there
to disarm you

I said come back
come back from black
but you crumpled away
a dry wilt in the sand

Vacant, you are
My once shining star
But even stars
are boiling alive
That dreadful feeling of not being able to comfort the one you love, who is suffering from depression/anxiety.
Carolina P Jun 2015
They say you're chaos, grim, and flirty,
and that the words you speak are
*****
you spit ******, flip the birdie
Creep like a callous beetle
over the Earth
(Or more specifically, the city)

Well I said I'd slap you silly
Shove your hands into dirt, nails
gritty
"That's what you get fer stayin' in this
city.
Now get yer defilin' *** back home"
(What a pity)

Then I'd say "Son, yer swinging high, and soon
you'll be dry
I've had up to here with the aches
and the sighs
You pack your bags while I shout with
my eyes,"
and you don't want that, as neither
do I

Even so, of these things I must say
clear:
My worry for you is more than
just fear
Besides ******, I hear moans of
tedium, my dear
And so I feel life is better for you
far from here

Away from here, go on, away
from here, from this
***** city
Show then to those who say "he
couldn't be"
that "be" could only mean anything
you'd want it to be



And you'd never again "be"
a creeping beetle of the city
but the sonorous sliver that warms
the Earth
on a darkened day
it might seem confusing, I know.  I wrote this over a year ago and I think the change in conventions towards the end was intentional.
Carolina P Jun 2015
Moonrise
when the sun should sink
and the dry desert cry would ring
through the night
and you will soar

You will soar,
as if the wind must ask
of more
And a cracked tulip may shrivel
from the rasped breath
of your flight

Yet, it's you alone in your might.
And none would know of  
your plight,
none other than the moon.
That laughing moon....
If only to pluck it out with talon-ed finger...

But you, with clever eye,
will see that so long as your sole arch
carves the sky
perhaps could quake even the shadowed backs of devils below and
still
always
you will soar

Night glider, sing
Sink, or take wing
Dry wind on feather
Earth and bird, together
I'm new.  First poem.  Hello.

— The End —