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A poet in love
Is a match soaked
In gasoline.

-r0
follow my writing!

it will kick you in the diaphragm.
Take my heart
Fold it in half
Fold it again
Tear it into five different pieces
Burn one piece
Crush the second
Shatter the third
The fourth dissolves into nothing
And the fifth is thrown away.

Take my soul
Fill it with hopes
Fill it with dreams
and promises
Expose it to joy
and happiness
Bring it to life
with your beauty
and then,
just as you welcome it,
abandon it to be engulfed
by sheer darkness.

What happens after that?
I don't know,
But you've left me to figure it out.
Who are we if not the purveyors of justice
my rifle, my knife, these limbs.
Who are they if not the intruders of peace;
their terror, our lives, death looms.
I am hollowed: rebuilt and refilled.
My scarred face remembers what
I need not. Their faces and fear lie killed;
****** with mandate, bullet hole signature.

       The trigger finger -
                            is not mine, it’s yours.

You **** guerrilla forces, burn
villages and conquer; linger and pause.
Teach them what you had us learn,
cut them from their cage,
and coax them to our ways.
They, purveyors of peace;
you, intruder, enforcing justice.
 Apr 2014 Emmy Dawn
Molly
Humans often
bare their teeth
as a
display of contentment.
10w
You are a building
simply put.
Created for the sole purpose
of being my current shelter.
Nothing more.

You are not the home I grew up in,
but a house,
a humble structure
in which I currently reside.

You are not
the home I was born in,
yet new beginnings
are born from you.
 Apr 2014 Emmy Dawn
Ian Cairns
To finish anything in entirety requires a full circle- and goodbye is a picky eater. Good is the pieces of pie fully enjoyed already- don't forget the fingertips good. The ones licked crisp and clean from the plasticware every time. While bye remains the uneaten slices spoiling silence in the kitchen. Crumbs too stubborn to move along, to move anywhere at all. Notice these slices never once greeted each other on a dinner plate- and there is no place for distance during dessert.

2. Goodbye is invisible ink scribbled too quickly for certainty. Proper sendoffs deserve the type of visibility that billboards form. So if you have the audacity to send seven letters my way disguised as our final embrace- I will unwrap your formality, like 5am Christmas morning, and pretend I'm on the naughty list. Hidden messages lack a sense of transparency that leaves only second guessing and farewells should need no crystal *****.
Goodbyes are as good as guesswork- and we are not fortune tellers.

3. Goodbye implies loss or rejection, but well wishes are meant for times
when loss is undeniably absent. Wishing wells bathe separation with good intentions- each copper coin anointed an underwater masterpiece.
While goodbye addresses detachment with partial reflections, splitting waves too strict for clarity. So all I see are the ripples of me spread too thin, the pieces of me scattered in every direction. Goodbye wishes no one well.

4. Goodbye is simply one word. Goodbye is not naturally destructive. Goodbye is no vocal cord villain.
Words are neither inherently good nor bad because we ascribe their significance, but evidence suggests a one word farewell serves innocent ears unjust death sentences.

5. The moment you allow I love you to skydive from your tongue, the word goodbye steals the parachutes mid-launch causing fatal free fall to artificial grass your hands never actually planted. This land is lunar rock rare- desolate when day breaks.
Goodbye is not fertilizer for greener pastures- rather an open invitation for wildfire to reduce the cosmos to ashes.

6. Endings are inevitable and sometimes quite necessary. And I'm not suggesting we prolong foregone conclusions. But our parting words need not necessarily be regrettable. Goodbyes are often stressed in tragic spectacles only designed for Broadway stages and sometimes all that's needed
is a genuine platform to stand on to say something like-- I'll miss you or I'm not ready for this or I can't do this anymore.


7. Goodbye is not a last resort.
Last resorts lead to final destinations you never come home from and you were never home, you were never home for me, you were always goodbye. Goodbye was your one way ticket to paradise, the kingdom your words worshiped and call me a traitor if you must, but the paradox you fundamentally found comfort in is tyranny trapped in one breath.
And that's never been comforting enough for me to believe in, never been real enough for me to hold.
Goodbye is sweet sorrow- one hollow word that makes your smile hurt.
It's solid rain on sunny days, stolen hearts on lay away. It's two syllables that were forced to hold hands that were never ever friends to begin with.
Goodbye is an oxymoron- and it will never justify your warm hello.
I ripped these poems out just as roughly
as you ripped me from your heart
I hate how
you're the blood to my veins
the good to my bye and
I really hate how you grew poisonous flowers in my rib cage
how you entered me like nicotine and
how my lungs are now filled with a grey dark cloud

don't you ever dare say that you never felt anything and
that I once wasn't the light of your life and
that I didn't know anything about you
because we were strangers who
knew each other very well

I loved you more than the sea loves the shore
and you drowned me in a beautiful deep blue sea

j.f
i love you.
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