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 Mar 2014 dreadfulmind
gd
These tortured souls walk amongst
their similar counterparts, all
trailing on narrow paths and open minds.
They hold knives to their chests and
leave the pain in their hearts so
they don't have to stomach the sadness -
but what a twisted tragedy.

Between bridges burned to ashes and
golden hairlines that mimicked Hercules'
(though they were not as fortunate) it is a wonder
to witness the core of our misogyny as
we puncture our flesh a little deeper,
hold our breaths a little longer, and
leave our insides tattered as we swallow
the remains of the promises we've broken
and the memories we've hoarded.

Step by step, we break ourselves
to build up the rest who neither matter
nor simply care.

gd
How is it that when you are the most honest, all hell breaks loose?
Lean in,
close...
closer,
feel your heart pitter patter
as their scent washes over you.
Let the warmth of their breath
gently caress your cheek.
Slowly kiss their neck,
the soft spot right above their collar bone.
Linger there,
tasting their smooth skin,
a pleasant mixture
of their soap and
the slightly salty taste of sweat.
Listen to them inhale slightly
at the electric tingle of your lips.
Feel them press their body closer to yours,
one hand tightly gripping your arm
the other winding their fingers
through hair on the back of your head.
Pull back,
gaze into their eyes,
blue and grey,
like a stormy day on the ocean,
or green like the summer leaves,
swaying in the breeze,
or brown like a small milk chocolate,
melting from the heat in your hand.
Inhale...
Exhale...
Hold this moment in your mind,
trap it in your memories forever.
Let it be the thought that you remember,
when you've forgotten everything,
when you've forgotten everyone,
even when you've forgotten your own name.
 Mar 2014 dreadfulmind
Matthew
It's like you jump out
Like high definition
Like they're all selfies
 Mar 2014 dreadfulmind
Anon
haiku #6
 Mar 2014 dreadfulmind
Anon
if you were a plant,
        you would be so beautiful,
i would purchase you
a nasty little virus
has taken hold of me
his name is Mr Flu
and he sure likes me

he'll be lingering for a while
as viruses do
and he'll be leaving me
in a week or two
my ink pen vomits on lined paper, tender cuts of beef
unable to be kept down long enough to be properly digested.
my words embarrass me.
© 2013 Austin Stephenson
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