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  Oct 2015 Diane
SG Holter
My palms on your
*******. Yesterday.
Things felt good then;
Kinda like love.

It's also called
Yesterday.
Today, I'm a whispered
*******.

Today I'm heavy air.
Render me hobby.
I have fewer feelings
Than a stone.

That's what you loved
About me. What you
Wanted to
Change.
Diane Oct 2015
hiding inside a locked gun cabinet
was the voice I hear
when I talk to myself
I could sip a writer's heart
his aromatic words pouring
corkscrew lies next to knives
keys, pens and dollar bills
guardless bold timid steps.

contact.

my breathing increases
to catch up with my heart
the way of not aloneness
in soulspeak
walking me home  
aurora borealis
or is it a normal human being.
Diane Aug 2015
I suggest you donate the leftovers that
Have spilled on the floor
Where all those names you dropped
Tried to feed your ego.
The people you have met are not you
Their accomplishments are not yours
Any more than I give a **** what kind of
Car you drive
Do you think your status gets me wet?
You should think twice about
Signing your name because
You don’t even know who the hell you are
Diane Aug 2015
Oh heat of summer
Satisfy me
I welcome the sweat on my ******* and stomach
Warm and winding currents of air
Hold that thought and attend to my eyes
Spirits speak here
Surrounding we two
This is where they sell the things
That touch my god
Diane Aug 2015
I was unprepared for your lack of self-awareness
and the way you approach life like a
kid running the wrong way with the ball.
Sometimes I feel like your mother
sending you to your room so you can tantrum.
Other times I feel like your daughter
when you lay out my shoes as if I can’t get them myself.
Talking to you is throwing rocks at a land mine;
There is a difference between creativity and indecision.
There is a difference between sensitivity and overreacting.
You have to find who you are, and stop lifting so many lids.
Your anxious energy is clinging to my calm like a parasite
Eventually, you need to find a calm of your own
take your spinning outside inward, where things are still.
I want to help you
and I want to escape,
because rarely do I feel like your lover
partly because I don’t want to anymore.
I don’t want your touch, I don’t want your kiss
your hands are vexatious, please just let me sleep!
I don’t want to gag and choke on your tongue.
Just rest for a while,
so I can figure out how to do this.
Diane Jul 2015
Love is supposed to set you free
I know this
Intellectually, I know
Chasing love stories and songs
Into blissful eternity
Crawling through the rabbit hole
Of my lover’s pale eyes
Puffy eyelids close down
Trapping me in
The moisture of tears
and bulging blood veins
Searching for exits in
Corpus callosum
These thoughts, those words, that smell
Don’t work
Neither does complaining
About who I should be
Generous anger poured over ice
Laughter covers the sound
Of eggshells crunching  
Make it through one more night
On the edge of the bed
Diane Jul 2015
I had forgotten
how sincerely
hard I tried

to make it feel true

Complete passion exists
in the poems I kept hidden
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