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Paint my heart as empty
all blue and black and grey

Around it perforate a circle
from beginning back to start

Paint it very gently
then quickly pull away

Tearing it out
without ripping it apart

Someday they'll surely place it
in the Gallery of Fools

Inside the Wailing Walls
out past the Hall of Shame

And when the people face it
they'll cherish their own hearts

As if anatomy has
anything to do with pain

©Jason Cole
sometimes when i'm asleep i hear whispers.

ghosts of all the men i let decimate my sanctuary

thinking they came to worship.

the men who came with flowers,

fragrances and exquisite offerings

who left with my sobriety.

many pieces of me are

somewhere in the world

being given as bounty to other women

expecting to be loved as i did.
Staring into the crimson trance
with faces of friends distant and far,
revealing presence within our moments peaceful.

Rugged body to watch the earth's teeth
crumble glowing in gold to ashen clay valleys.
Crackling sparks of rhythms carry the soul to gardens high above.

To a force that gives and takes,
smile most gratefully glowing,
a kaleidoscope world warming the face
of the one who pokes the universe.
Inside each person, a battle raging.
Every instance posing a new question –
what you want to do and what you ought to.
A choice; will you take the right decision?
And that is what keeps life interesting.
NaPoWriMo Day #27
Poetry form: Envelope Quintet
nothing feels quite like you do
at 5 am when you lay your arms across mine, wrapped tight around your waist
nothing feels like snowy thruways at 8 am and the car heater at midnight, the only reason leaving your bed feels good is because I’m leaving it with you
nothing feels like everything because I feel everything with you
things I’ve never felt before and peace I never knew
you’re nothing to some people and everything to me
everything you have is nothing others see
when everything you are becomes everything you were, and when nothing can change the everything I want to become a blur
remind me that nothing feels quite like you
and it’s something to hold on to
that doesn’t quite burn like we had to.
The pain of a heartbreak affects us in different ways.
She’ll erase you completely, never speak to you again, and have you questioning whether it truly was you who decided to end things.
But the next girl won’t be able to ease the ache until she drives past your house in different cars that you won’t recognize to see if anybody else is leaving tire marks in your drive.
You won’t be lucky enough to escape without the insane red eyed ex who you term “******” because she just loved you too much when you still couldn’t love at all.

The only tire marks in your yard are from the friends who are tired of trying to bring you back from the corner you’ve crawled into since the intrepid spirit you never could quite tame spiraled through you and blew even the most intact parts of you into places you are too hurt to reach. But her destruction isn’t one sided, she erases you in every word she writes and every tear she cries, hoping that your green eyes and the dimple in the left cheek fade from her memory as the pen fades on the paper.

Red eyes search for a reason in the cold of the night while black ink words spill onto a piece of paper under the candlelight. Our emotions bleed and our madness can be deranged, but it can also be elegantly beautiful.
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