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 Dec 2020
N
Lover,
I fear the sleep of death
where I dream,
but do not see your face

Lover,
I have not seen you
for two years

Lover!
I fear I am
already dead
 Dec 2020
Kerli Tulva
Distant persisting fragments
endure unstirring in your heart
you pick them away piece by piece
yet every part is the same sharp
as as frosty wind on your cheeks.
 Dec 2020
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
 Dec 2020
Kerli Tulva
In the dim darkness
you sit agains a tree
feeling how love is dripping
like a melting icicle
in the first sun if spring.

Down the heart
the honey kissed drops
slide in softness
leaving a mark
of their carved path
deeply in every vessel.

Meeting each other
crawling under the skin
forming a dense web
of darkness and light
mingled, entwined in one.

You sit agains a tree
in the dim darkness
feeling the honey kissed
tender drops of love
slide down your eyes
dropping on the sweet
quietness of night.
 Dec 2020
leeaaun
Doubts
can consume your soul,
destroy your
dreams
and
every
inch
of your hope.
 Dec 2020
The Lonely Poet
...Is terrifying.
Every line feels like a judgement.
...Is beautiful.
Every line feels like a symphony.
...Is art.
Every line feels like a masterpiece.
...Is pain.
Every line feels like a heartbreak.
...Is love.
Every line feels like a dedication.
...Is me.
Every line, every word, every letter feels like my own.
 Dec 2020
Francie Lynch
I know I'm not alone
Knowing readers like good-feely poems;
Not poems on politics,
But on love and gnomes,
That offer happiness to you at home.
I'll forgo writing verses on death,
My lovely images will ****** your breath.
I'll ink lines about an old flame's door,
The hesitation to knock once more,
To see if she, like me, is free,
And re-ignite the flickering light
That rained down from our starry night.

People want to feel good more,
So I won't write about Civil War;
Or Armageddon on the horizon;
Millions dead with a final solution;
A leader devoid of absolution
For lies without resolutions:
For a sin that should not be.

I'll write about aging well,
Finding water in a dried out well,
Overcoming not feeling well,
Lifting a grandson with Well, well, well!

These be poems that one reads well.
 Dec 2020
N
I fear my brittle heart cannot
bear another harsh winter

On a quiet night
when my soul departs,
do not suffer

Though I will be asleep for
the many winters to come

Tenderly, I shall
embrace thee in a dream
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