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Give them to me.
All the pieces of your broken heart.
Give them to me.

I'll take them.

All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams.


Give them to me.
I will take them.

Give them to me.


They are wanted here.


All the parts of your misspent childhood. All the regrets of ticking seconds behind you.

Give them to me.

And we will build a cathedral. A stained glass window of who we are as tall and as beautiful as it should be.

Let me have them.

And we will make a mosaic that stretches as wide as the sky. Showing every color your heart gained from the bits and pieces left on the ground.

I will take them.

And forge a sculpture of how beautiful the ideas are that we cast out in our failings and we will cast it in our failings.

Let me have them.

And we will ***** a monument of all the small things in the shape that you remember them.
Towering. Looming. Striking. Beautiful.

Let me have them so we might bind the words said and regretted, (or worse) left unsaid in leather and call it scripture.

Our Psalms. Our Proverbs:

“The tip of my finger dangles like my tongue. Wanting to touch something beautiful.”

“If it were not for him, it would have been us.”

“You were all my brightest colors.”

“I wish I were more like you.”

“I wish I were less like me.”

“I am sped.”


And we will read them at dawn like litany.

Stretching our voices to the corners of the universe. Asking for the wishes you make when you are scared. Or alone. Or both.

That we may take them.

And make a blanket.

A blanket to cover our childhood and let it rest at last.

I will take them.

All the parts you no longer want.

Give them to me.

Because they are what make us beautiful.

Give them to me.

That I may forge them into pitch and feathers and craft mighty wings.

That I may take flight from your worry. And soar on the updraft of your misconception.

Give them to me.
I will take them.

Because I would rather burn like Icarus than to have never dared to fly.
This was a birthday gift to myself. I am giving it to you.
kiss me good morning,
kiss me goodnight,
kiss me till my last breath of life
kiss me hello
kiss me goodbye
kiss me till the angels cry
kiss me forever
kiss me now
kiss me till the light begins to drown
kiss me to heaven
kiss me to hell
kiss me till my heart begins to swell
kiss me to death
kiss me to life
you will always be in my heart so kiss me right
kiss me in the beginning
kiss me in the end
and this is where the poem has to end
 May 2014 Victoria
Coop Lee
we begin
as college sweethearts.
maybe
made express efforts
       to ignore dreams,
       & the careers within those dreams.
to slip away and instead
assemble upon eachother’s bodies.
                           fuse into one.
one & new dreams.
with our mouths we speak of love.
                   we eat and eat and replicate
                   the fridge-inner with groceries endless.
we work until our fingers go numb
                          work the steering wheel way
home ::: to you.

maybe we drift, some days;
before;
& after ::: the lump in your breast.
                    you think of black depths,
                    eternal depths,
& the fire we are.
the fire we live,
                     in restless color.
all else is oxytocin
           so soaked,
           so thick upon our thoughts.

& we only know the world as reflected in words like
                                                                ­                           love.

an idea, a notion, an act,
a belly, baby :::
                   ::: echo of us.
& as our happiness metastasizes,
         we grey on certain edges,
         we say things that remind us of our parents’ voices;
& slip away
into the night, to dance,
to remember.

the babysitter will get a good tip,
us being so late.
the child sleeps
& you are smiling.
 May 2014 Victoria
Alicia
broken
 May 2014 Victoria
Alicia
i don't think anyone will understand
the pain
of being completely abandoned
by the people who are supposed to love you the most.
if tomorrow never comes then where is yesterday
is tomorrow hiding so very far away


no matter what it is.  another day is new
wether its tomorrow its something we get through
then we start again as we did before
waiting for tomorrow to come again once more



.
 May 2014 Victoria
Poetic T
Just because I'm old and it takes
me an hour to get from A to B,
never judge me as you don't
know who I was the things in
life I have seen.

Age brings knowledge, its brings
arthritis in my left knee, you think
you have seen things son, Ive been
in wars seen **** you never want
to see.

I may look useless but thats the
secret you see, for the old were
young once we fought with knuckles
not like you ******* with guns
and knifes, thats the way of *******.

You may lift a finger to me, but ill just
grab it snap it back, lets see you give the
finger now ya little punk, ill break the
other two if you disrespect me.

I may be old but that doesn't make me
weak, I have knowledge and experience,
kid you just came out your *****, so
think when you speak to your elders.
for we may seem weak and frail but
we can teach you youngsters a thing or three
never judge people by there age..
 Apr 2014 Victoria
MST
Losing Love
 Apr 2014 Victoria
MST
I wrote a poem today,
describing a sinister thought; about the pains of the heart.
Tormented until decay,
all emotions draining away.
And as I poured my soul into words,
a swift destruction overcame my art,
and in a second it was torn apart.
As I sat in broken shock,
the loss managed to open a lock.
One that kept my mind, heart and soul jailed,
but now the rusty lock has failed.
For I recognize this loss is the same as in life,
One molded with such effort; destroyed in strife.
And like I will write a poem I will love once more,
and with it I will grow at my very core.
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