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 Feb 2013 Claire Ellen
Samir Lal
There it stands. Weeping, moping. Like the lone ranger secretly longing for a partner. It is the epitome of the lonely soul. We all know this tree. We have all seen it. It is the kid that never gets picked on any teams when the other kids play sports. It is the man who sits alone knowing he cannot return to normality because he lost everything he ever had. He is the one in the corner, praying for a better life. Just trying to slip through the days as quickly as possible. Constantly craving care and compassion. Craving for a companion. Wanting to laugh, shout, scream. But all he can do is weep. For he is the weeping willow, hoping one day his long, drooping face will be swept up by the wind, and he can become a tall, proud pine tree. That day will come. And it will be a beautiful one.
Leave the lights out
I'm not coming back
dark night pitch black
I lost the key, you left under the mat
Leave the lights out
bulbs flickering
thoughts trickling
like the tears down my wind swept cheeks
Leave the lights out
This home isn't meant for me...
I remember the taste of your chapstick
original flavor plain as you were, a taste insipidly vapid
I remember everything up until our last kiss
that fades into the smoke of memories I burned with your box of letters
cut with the strings of you that had me tethered
disappointment doesn't hold a flame to the fire burning inside me now
I'd wail and cry aloud
but the ocean cares not of the downfall of man
knees dug into the sand
arms outstretched, a shameless attempt at holding the sky
as close as you once held my
body more rigid than it's fragile contents
I remember the taste of your chapstick and I never knew what that meant...
These walls know my past
as does the single malt in my glass
motionless in the eerie dark of a new moon
trapped in the darkness and apartness of you
drown myself in the spirits quicker
tired of hearing the walls whisper
your name
as if every chair's arms now point the blame
at the disheveled heap of the remnants of a man laying in the middle of the room
trapped in the darkness of an apartment I shared with you...
Wandering paths, merely brush pushed aside by eager hands
feet pressing firm on uncharted land
the vantage points of a cliff undiscovered
rustles the passion in me, that I had longed to recover
lost along the way, between the miles traveled and moments marked in my past
I cover the tracks
for home is where I am at the moment
I reach to the sunrise arms spread wide trying to hold it
close to my chest to scare off the winter air rushing over my skin
one foot after the other and I begin
a skyline of ridges and peaks
seem to swallow me
in their lush valleys, rich with soil and trees racing to the heavens stopping just shy
I sit on the ledge of a rock jutting over the valley, this paradise is mine
wandering the world, the way it was meant to be
wandering forever the home always meant for me...
 Feb 2013 Claire Ellen
Jett
3,000 miles between us
but fate stepped in and
i am in a cab, flying towards china town
and you are running down Broadway
in the opposite direction.
i told the cabbie to stop, but they insisted
we kept moving.
you were right there, so close
we could have touched.
of all the days to be in the city,
we chose the same one
and missed our opportunity
to kiss each other on the mouth
but if it really was fate,
i will see you again
and we will kiss and touch and laugh
and fall in love.
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