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Chloe LeBoeuf Jun 17
Our Love is racing through life.
She started nervous, but her engine took off quickly.
First place for two laps.
The other cars - they would never catch up.
Work, Money, Friends, Family, Hobbies, Health -
nothing could lap Love.
I threw flowers at Love,
cheered for the most beautiful competitor of all time.
I bet thousands on Love,
she was so genuine - so raw.
There was just something about her.

Poetry has become infrequent.
Letters - obsolete.
Dates, gifts, ***.
Love needs more - deserves more.
Love has fallen to fifth place.

I am done with excuses, with Work comes first.
I am ready to change, to step on the gas.
I have so much more to give you -
all of me is for you.
Your green eyes, soft skin, sweet laugh -
they are everything to me.

I will repair Love’s scratched frame and shattered windows.
She won’t be perfect, but
she will be back in first.
Love will have to work hard - she always has.
She didn’t enter this race easily -
her engine struggled to start strong.
I forgot that it’s not easy caring for something so pure.
Life throws wrenches at Love, enabling the others
to pass her.

Our Love is racing through life.
She started strong, but her tires blew.
Fifth place for two laps.
The other cars - they caught up.
Work, Money, Friends, Family, Hobbies, Health -
all fighters that wanted to take away her shine.

Don’t worry.
I’m going to keep throwing flowers at Love,
cheer for the most beautiful competitor of all time.
I’m betting thousands on Love,
She is so genuine - so raw.
There is just something about her.
Chloe LeBoeuf Nov 2020
Each day seems longer, and
I don’t know what I’m doing here.
I fill our world with things
and I still feel empty.
The cat has a sweater,
the living room has two couches,
and the backyard has a fence lined with decorative lights.
I am overworked,
you are unhappy,
the bigot is still in the white house, and
there are fifteen assignments due within the next week.
Each day seems longer, and
I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Life is a series of choices,
but why must those choices be so constrained?
I long for a time of tranquility,
a landscape illuminated by only the moon.
People who move slowly,
and, well, don’t have to wear masks.
Sandy streets, chilly evenings, the uninterrupted sound
of amphibians singing by the water.
Let’s pack up my guitar, the tent, a notebook, a pencil, a soccer ball,
a blanket, the pillows, and the camping bin.
We can drive until we reach Maine,
or head south to the Texas coastline.
We will find a way to survive within these
constrained choices.
Our bodies will warm each other,
the crickets will sing us to sleep,
and we will fill our world -
you, me, our cat, and his sweater.
Chloe LeBoeuf Mar 2019
Dark stock images of isolation,
pill bottles overflowing
onto cracked floorboards,
minds exploding into black letters,
one body, one mind.
Represented as shadows.
The consequences of
wrongful upbringings, unhealthy
thoughts resulting in despair.

I am image of mental disorder.
He/she/they are image of disorder.
Functional, smiling, creative, and whole.
I am a consequence of genetics,
an unlucky mind sickened by its thoughts,
a body that responds to emotion.

My mind is more than a shadow. It is
my identity, holding memories
and motivations. Every moment,
leading my body to function on earth.
My mind is disordered. dysfunctional.
It will respond unjustifiably.
A mind trapped within a somebody’s world.

I am gifted.
I am cursed.
I am me.
A face of mental disorder,
an image uncaptured by stock photos.
Chloe LeBoeuf Jan 2019
You beat me down
and I feel my arms begin to cave.
My muscles contract,
my eyes blur,
If I could speak the words running through my mind.
The passion you bring to my heart.
My fingers slamming on the keyboard.
If I could run to you, 
I'd scream
till my lungs collapse.
I'd fight. 

Don't you ever treat me like this again.
Slamming on the enter key.
If I teach my children anything it will be
Do Not Walk Away.
You fight. You stick with it.
You never give up.
You got yourself into this mess,
You get yourself through it.
You hold your head high and you treat whoever with
You watch your tongue and choose the high road.
You never walk away.
You ask for help. 
You can't do it on your own.
But you never walk away.
Do you hear me?
You never EVER walk away.
Chloe LeBoeuf Jan 2019
The moment the lights go out
and I unfold my legs under the sheets,
I long to feel you beside me.
I wrap my arms around sweatshirts and old stuffed animals,
or I stretch my limbs to cover every possible inch of the bed.
No position seems to replace your presence


I shut my eyes and imagine your breathing
my ear to your chest,
your heart beating softly but surely,
my cheek nuzzled into your breast,
my arms wrapped around your belly.
The feeling of your skin comes back to me
soft, warm, unscathed.
I long to feel your lips press into my forehead,
your hands brush through my hair


Every morning I wake up on your side of the bed.
Your pillow isn’t nearly as comfortable as mine
but I stay there as I drift in and out
and the morning light wafts in.
One day closer to being in your arms
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