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 Mar 2020
Samara
Garden of Daisies  
Reticent next to the Sage
Drinking my Chamomile.
---
Field of Innocence
Reserved with wisdom.
Taking in the calm...
 Mar 2020
jiminy-littly
you are a release
unto my thoughts
of thinking

to non being
too benign

our heads nod
to our chests
in
supplication

in embarrassment
in ignorance.

you are a mist
of clouds
boyued
in a queue
of
unending
ripples
of
dread.

come now
into the open
so we can see
you

for you
are
awe.
 Dec 2019
Noni Winters
I stumbled upon you
Like a child
that finds a pretty stone

Bewildered by your presence
I sat and admired
Counting your cracks
Caressing what makes you glitter

You stood infront of me
Bold and beautiful
Like nothing I'd ever seen

And as you gave me your attention
I think I misconstrued your intentions

I wanted to put you in my pocket
But you said no

So there you sit
Perfectly unpolished
A love

I can only visit
 Nov 2019
beth fwoah dream
these clouds like follies,
these moons like watery
ghosts, flooding, light
like a swollen stream, the
golden glow escapes, exhumed
like an egyptian mummy,
its laundry the white sheets
of the world, its apparition’s
the reticent clouds of the dark.
 Apr 2019
Philomena
I miss the stardust in your embrace
The wind in my hair
And the feeling of flying in your arms

When you find yourself lost in the stars
Please don't forget those on Earth
Don't forget all the memories
Don't forget how much we love you
Please don't forget me
 Oct 2017
Jamison Bell
She moved like smoke.
Wafting about.
Tempting.
As smooth as warm water.
Holding her would be like sliding into a hot shower on a cold day.
I'd imagine her whisper to be like caramel.
Despite what I imagine though.
Regardless of what I see when I look at her.
She still finds herself standing in the rain.
Jumping in puddles hoping one of them will be deep enough to consume her entirely.
Cursing herself because she can't dodge the raindrops.
I'll never ask her to come in from the rain.
That'd be asking her to change who she is.
 Jun 2017
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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