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let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
      & if you are getting choked up
        then maybe you should be

maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold
Falling                                        
for                  
you
is like being with

a cancer patient.
Just another name scribbled in the corner of my notebook.
I don't think you would be as handsome
If I couldn't see your pain in your eyes

I love looking at broken things and
Appreciating all the cracks
that have been left behind
have you ever been
so indecisive
that your entire body has ached
like the torn pages
you keep mounted
in every diary
with every question's
billion answers?
she smears
******
no. 1
over her scarlet lips
her fingers
catching
on the tears
of her fishnet stockings

kicking off
her high heels-
the ones the butcher
used to wear
when dealing with blood-
replacing them
with the feel
of the Earth
against her sole

hair lowered
innocence
removing the stain
of want
from her eyes
and filling
the windows of her soul
like the unspent tears
the girl with the scarlet lips
would never weep
You called it a love bite
Like the word hickey would burn in your mouth
and strip away the taste of her still on your lips

You called it a love bite
Because hickey sounded like troubled teens
and stained sheets

You called it a love bite
Because her perfume still stuck to your shirt
and you didn't want to take it off

You called it a love bite
because you loved her
But you knew she called it a hickey
and nothing more.
Let him go. Just because he loves you doesn't mean you own him. Let him go.
no matter how much he means to you
do not ever take a boy to all
of your favourite places because
when you are walking around your
old city and go to your favourite park
all you will be able to see is him
kissing you under the big fig tree
or his arms wrapping around your waist
by the pond where the ducks feed
and it will no longer be your favourite park
and he will have ruined yet another thing
that was so special to you.
s.w
Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f
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