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Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
The only thing missing
is a sore **** feeling,
a vague sense of
unwholesomeness,
and an unusually
urgent desire to
be alone

I prefer the honesty
of a good alley mugging
rather than these missing
moments stretched into
long hours of doubt

Never mind the endless
work of you figuring me
figuring you out

Was me, was you,
was too dark to tell?

Loves me, hates me
and which one of us
in this given month
is clearly going to
hell?

The men who have been
so big on honesty, well
they sure did lie a lot
and the sorting out of truth
from lies and the constant
refrain of I Forgot?

Frankly all of that
has left me cold and
the obtuse angle of your
constant accusations?
that too got awfully old

As I am dear- awful
and old
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
you are what the woods
look like on a starless
night and through a beam
of lantern light, swinging
first left then right from
my arms, gripped fingers
and the lightening bugs
you look quite simply
lovely in that quick
flood of flight
you look just right
like a breath between
bites, the sweep of
that lamp, remember?
and if light could sing
if darkness could make
a harmony of those
absent stars and so
many other lost
things? we could
make a forest sing
me and you simple
like that, beautiful
fact
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
He gave me a lovely shell
shiny with abalone which
I promptly likened to a
shovel
He gave me a stunning
silk cape which I turned into
a winding cloth
When he presented me
with a brilliant green box
carved from the rarest jade
I thanked him for the
fancy sarcophagus

He showered me with love
so unrelenting it poured
down more sodden then
his tears
And his hundred adoring
glances?
I told him they were like
like the worms that will
one day live in my
bones

Today he brought me
a massive bunch of plump
white roses and from behind
them I heard him say, well
I guess these can be your
funeral wreath-
I sighed and waved him
away

Really, darling, must you
always be so *******
morbid?
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
What is left
of me here,
well, I saved it
for you my dear
in the tiny bowl
of my hands,
loose so as not
to **** it, with
fingers caged
close enough
to not spill it;
I feel the wings
beat frantically
against my palms
what sorry words
can I tell my heart
when all words
have gone?
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
The Facts, brought to you
by Miss (never Misses)
Battle Ax
She has taken copious
notes (and even looked up
the word 'copious')
just in case
and in this case, well
The Facts are quite simply
The Facts (follow the blood
smear, the footfall patterns
the mincing and dear
little tracks, follow her
to her corner, the one
she's worn a dent in
the one that wears
a penumbra of her
and all of her
misgivings like
a well fitted hat
The Truth) dear
kind of a little less
of that here, wanders
around kind of a
little more of a
sneer (hurts, is
LOUD) a bit of
a SMACK
and
She cannot follow
the rhythm of your
wanting because she
wants it more (than
you) would learn
to dance (for you)
would eat her own
hands for you and
follow her pointed
fingers through
every hour of
every beat of
every breath
of every (once
was yours dear)
Fact
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
He was all like and
I was all like
y'know
what I meeeeeen,
like?!
and then I was
like noooooo
waaaaaay! and
then he was like
wuhwuhwuh
why not?
like? and
like, oooh my
GAAAD,
like ****!
y'know what I mean
like **** THAT!
EEEEEEW! like
no way! no?
maybe what!?
like, jealous
much? like
WHAT is her
damage!? O
MY
GOD
I hate her, like
totally like!
WHAT a
*****!
y'know?
like did you see
what she was wearing
like?
Jennifer Beetz Apr 2019
I like baked fish
I like a fish in a dish
I like Lillian Gish
I like to dress up
in a gigantic wide
brimmed hat and
go to the movies

I like smooth stones
I like sun bleached bones
I like raspberry scones
I like to hide behind
the bookshelf and
scream when you
walk by

I like sleeping dogs
I like foggy fogs
I like Prague
I like to sob into
a pillow and never
wake up again
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