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 Jan 2015 Esperanzavenisia
Zoë
i'm done with these poems,
these words that i share
they will no longer be about you
i'm done trying to fix you,
you don't need me anymore
it will never be forever
don't call me anymore
don't cry to me anymore
you don't need me anymore
 Jan 2015 Esperanzavenisia
Zoë
my stomach does backflips,
but it isn't butterflies.
i cringe as he continues.
i wish he would stop talking,
then i could think straight.
get his face out of my mind.
You would love me more

if you knew
the things I don't say

love me more
for the tears repressed/unseen

the thoughts that rise
yet fast sequestered,
virus quarantined,
lest infection spread

occasional
moan groan
an Ebola moon June
escapes,
inquiring ears overhear
and ask...

but quick deflected
with a
** hum,
nothing luv,
pushed back into
the hidey hole of opprobrium
and acid reflux

why why
suppress
if loving you better
the net net of it?

this is not the candy coated,
but the coal glow strife
that cannot be
quenched nor
solved with
anti-pain
meds

so put away, aside,
push back inside

you would
love me better
for the sharing,
but love me enough
for the be I be,
let my roughened edged pains,
be buried with my remains

a love unfettered
will place no obstacle
before you
from within me

love me for the man I am,
just the average man iam,
knowing that not knowing all,
not a deceit,
but a reprieve,
what I share,
strained and sleeved,
tho unrelieved,
it is relief
that burdens but,
only me
11-1-14
..
writing your name a thousand times
the line on the paper
would curl up and die

the phrase “love don’t die”
is just a muddled version of
I’d like to lie

don’t make life seem like a fairy tale
books have known endings
stable mendings

we, however, weren't born to get sold

we were born to hold one another
save them from whatever's out there
while we are life's presence
but you cannot believe you can love forever
@Copyright Kaitlyn Marie
I'm done with you
Completely through
Calling me when you feel alone
But I'm too busy to answer the phone
It's final, your turn is up
You blew it, buttercup
Don't come crying to me
My love's not free
Sorry babe, you shot your chance
No time for one last dance
I'm walking out the door
Love doesn't live here anymore
Your kindness befuddled me.
My coldness melted by your warmth.
You barely know me.
Yet you seem to care.
Clouds flat as pancakes line the sky
hovering over rivers and lakes,
roaming across prairies and bluffs
Seasoned with a bitter sweetness.

Some trees less lively than others,
Some blaze with a unique aura.
Wild reeds and wild weeds ride the wind--
Brown and rusted like train track bolts.

Signs for a woodshop boutique lead
down a road prancing deer wander.
Sun rays hint shades of light through cracks
Revealing a scene to be seen.

The red, the orange, the yellow-green.
Brown, sleeping stalks of corn in rows
And the scare crow standing tall in
The middle, still in nights silence.

Lifeless leaves falling to the ground
Leave colored murals on footpaths
Soon to be covered with sheets of
Snow as nature prepares to sleep.
Wrote this on my way home, observing the fall colors and scenery.
 Oct 2014 Esperanzavenisia
abby
its weird where i see poetry these days.  like…theres a better way to say it than that.  but im always shocked to see poetry in a bucket of bone colored paint or in a mess around a dumpster or in the dryer lint.  i see it in your avoidance and in the jokes i’ve learned to make. i see it in scuffed boots and missing keys on a keyboard.  i still see it in celestial beings.  i still see it in the face of everyone i talk to.  but now i see it everywhere and its almost overwhelming but at the same time i’m glad.  because even the ******* things can be okay if you look at them right.
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