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  Sep 1 Cherdaphne Angel
i don't see myself
any other man but you
so i let the stars align
to take me as soon
as i am forty for
desire not of me

41 and alone
51 and alone
61 and alone
i do not want to grow old alone

i foresee myself growing old alone
so i ask the stars to take me when i am forty
or younger

my dust to be encrypted
when you close your eyes at night
tells you that

i could've grown old with you

you are too late
you are too late
If I shall sit alone again,
I will not think of
the wind as my companion,
for I always feel more
than the blow and touch it gives
that still i yield from afar
a less expelling air -
a warm and sensuous breath from thee.
And so for every time
I will sit alone,
pleasing is the wind that,
although from a different byland,
gets to indulge my insides
as if near we already are.
Here again I sit alone
not feeling so alone,
for I think now until close we come
the breeze that
gusts a tingling sense
is thy breath
that catches me.
A poem written on 2018 when I could still feel you when I sit alone.
on this day, i write
tunes and voices coming in one ear
playing your message as i pause the music
playing the music as i leave your message

thought to resurge but a tough palm stood
to release the string from my opposite drum
attached is my depth from a pit, yelling
with you, we lost the bucket to save it

for this day i shut
so my fading code unbars
scripts i thought i'd never again crack
since my inclination to yours for me to be a part

from now and when i hear you
again will play the music that turns me than up
uncertain, but to neighbor by far is to keep you
from living in my lines
  May 15 Cherdaphne Angel
If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry
  Jan 1 Cherdaphne Angel
clouds crying in the dark
As a soothing  melody marks the demise.
My first haiku poem
  Apr 2018 Cherdaphne Angel

i want to buy these mice a home so
that their presence helps keep the table clear
i think i’ll place it in the gap between the door and the floor
in the hopes of keeping the noise out and
of having at least one of us feel
a sense of being welcome

the paper bags in my hands wouldn’t feel
heavy if they knew where they were going maybe
and hitting my head against the bed again doesn’t stop me from
showing off the letters on my chest although
i’ve been known to miss the mark

if there's a spark in her eyes it’s 'cause she stole the light from mine
but i like the cold because it makes me feel alive

my favorite part comes around
when the two trains meet and for a second
i can catch a glimpse of everyone’s place in the world
before we’re whisked away to
our respective loneliness

or maybe it’s where the streets
run narrow like those in the places where
connection, if anything, tastes a bit more genuine
it's quite polarizing but this time i’ll seek
comfort in the grey of it until it
all comes rushing back

they say home is where the heart is so this probably still isn’t it
but it will do for now

[new york city] | [definition of home] | [pursuit of cold]
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