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 Apr 2013 SeaChel
brooke
Grace.
 Apr 2013 SeaChel
brooke
You are a vase half
full up to your thighs
so don't be ashamed of
the way your hips swing
full of wine, up to your waist
you're not a waste, only you
could bear the leaves that
you do.
(c) Brooke Otto.



For Megan.
 Apr 2013 SeaChel
madeline may
there's a girl who sleeps in my bed
I don't mind her too much
though I wish her nightmares
didn't make such a mess
of the sheets.

she uses my shampoo
I'm okay with sharing
I just wish she would
save me a little
conditioner.

most of the makeup in my room is hers
some of it's mine though
I prefer blushes, eyeshadows
while she collects
concealors.

and sometimes, on the right day
I see her when I look in the mirror
not very often though
I don’t really look a lot
like her.

when I look in the mirror
I see flushed cheeks, wet hair
nails need a trim
hips, a little excess
but okay.

I don’t always see cuts
bruises, starvation, memories
of self-induced punishment
three failed attempts at
"making it stop".

I don’t always see
the ghost of years ago
when I look in the mirror
but sometimes
I do.
the grass is always greener
on the other side of life
that's what they reckon
until they run into strife

on the other side there are
unwelcome hidden traps
which are never espied
until they land in their laps

it is better to do a thorough survey
before venturing to the other side
as what you'll encounter
may not be such a delicate ride

at first the other side
looks like a tempting opportunity
but let not it snare you
in its secreted fallibility
 Apr 2013 SeaChel
Jemimah
We crave the approval of existence
- 'tis the most intimate longing of man
                              
what can satisfy [this void of desire]?
     *only the whisper of God.
His Love fills the caverns of our souls
 Apr 2013 SeaChel
Jemimah
your eyes
a manuscript of music
play for my soul
© 2013
 Apr 2013 SeaChel
madeline may
i was told once that
playing with fire was
dangerous
because someone always got
burned.

all i know is my body
is charred beyond
recognition
which begs the question - who lit the
flames?
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