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 Apr 2018
haley
it's snowing in april and
the bluejays have abandoned their nest to
welcome the newcoming of spring;
we have no furniture, sweetheart,
but we do have time. last night i
held your cheek in my tiny palm and
asked if you wanted me to rest
in your arms forever -
"of course", you soothed,
and i brewed cherry coffee in the morningtime
to remind myself
that this life is good.
we have no money, sweetheart,
but we do have time. we do have time.
just a short one.
 Apr 2018
Glenda
You
Too flawed am I, like charcoal touching a blank page .
I feel unworthy of your time, I treasure every moment with you.
I love you, I don't know how to express it.

Truth is I'm scared, I'm scared to love you.
To love someone is for two souls to become one, my life becomes yours as does yours mine.
......
I'm ready now .
I fear you may not be.
© WRITTEN BY GLENDA DLAMINI
 Apr 2018
erin walts
Please don't throw me away
Even though I'm broken beyond repair
I just want to be with you
Even though I'm scared
Please don't throw me away
Because there's only so much
I can take
And these pills don't swallow

I know that I am trash
And I never will be great
I'm subpar
A mediocre girl to be forgotten
In a melancholy world full of hate

I know that I am garbage
Everything I do is wrong
Little things- they overwhelm me
Even as I write this song
And creatively it's better to be low
These landfills fill
But nothing else

I know I am useless
As I sit here writing these words
I know they're not going anywhere
Because I'm not going anywhere
But still I write

I know I am ****
As the crumbled up pieces of my heart surround me
The ink smudging from my tears
I realize they're worthless
Scraps no one will ever see

But I still won't throw them away
 Apr 2018
Swastik
A bright smile,
On that chuckling face.
Like the moonlight,
Playing the waves.

A slow kiss,
That moists her lips.
And she moans the touch,
As my tongue slips.

The fire in us,
It burns our heart.
Blending our bodies,
Not to go apart.

A crave of lust,
Caresses our thirst.
The wildness in us,
Flint's it to burst.

But it's so love filled,
Faith is our arm.
With respect in us,
That keeps it warm.
 Apr 2018
Hope Isleman
You leave the court in its own preponderance of your own stupidity.
I am neutral. Keeper or player of the game of Chess.
I know nothing of its rules.
I see more sitting on the side, seeing the whole sum In it's intensity.
If you think the King rules and has nothing to lose, your a fool.
There are two King's within different roles.
No pride holds them.
For truth is law.
It's the law of all God's.
Not you or they, but all who choose it, for its self is pure.
Without remorse, what is there to fear?
But fear alone.
Fear is only that, that binds you to your own imprisonment.
I was your friend.
You seek, you need.
I was just an amusement and you the thief...
these hands,

these hands were meant
to melt in the keys of the piano
and not for pushing buttons
to operate complex machinery,

these hands were meant
to climb the plateau’s of New Mexico
and not for spilling a half bottle of
Dutch milk while the tv watches me
passed out on the couch,

these hands were meant
to build treehouses for my children
not to drunk punch lousy bums
on the slum streets and lose,

these hands were meant to
pick peaches in the orchards of Georgia
and not to be holding my **** as it
****** in the linen closets and China cabinets
while in the drunken state of befuddlement,

these hands were meant to
make colossal sandwiches
and not to swipe my card
in the drive-thru,

these hands were meant
to caress my wife and
waltz her through life
and not be defiant,

these hands were meant
for gumption and not for
delusions of grandeur,

these hands were meant
to make my own dreams come true
and not someone else’s,

these hands were meant
to have purpose, talent,
motivation, diligence
and not to be shoved
into the pockets of uncertainty and
suffering from indolent characteristics,

these hands were meant
for bigger indentations
in the world and not to be
tyrannized by simplistic minds

these hands,
these hands,
these hands...

but somewhere down the lifeline
of my palms
I had left behind
my spirit and my soul
a long, long time ago
and it’s never too late
to get it back,
oh no,
it’s never too late
to get it all back.
 Apr 2018
amber
talking to you,
is like smoking a cigarette.
your toxins slowly **** me.
at first it's hard to notice.
you hit my bloodstream,
and I get a bit lightheaded.
but over time,
I grow weaker,
and it gets harder to pick up the lighter.
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