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Akin to a swirling mist
I swear standing just like this

I never believed him
Until I saw one of them

They hover just outta sight
Something I thought I'd never see
This guys been up too many nights
Then it happened to me

Late one night
As I lay awake
I saw her there

She was doing dishes
I couldn't help but stare

In a blink she was gone
Evaporated into thin air
I had been wrong
I began to despair

They only pop in
Harbingers of excess
Once you're off the deep end

This must not happen
I must get away
I sat shaken
I had thought I could play
 Jun 2015 Ashley Askren
Rachel
I don't write love poems anymore;
I sleep until noon and eat *** cakes for breakfast

I don't sing love songs anymore;
I cut off all my hair and dyed it a color he told me never to do

I don't read love stories anymore;
I pierced my nose and ate mushrooms underneith the stars

I don't write love notes anymore;
I read my books at diners in the middle of the night and paint just because I can

I live with tenacity and I haven't had a regret since I left


I'm glad I don't write love poems anymore
Two eyes close and another opens
Yet darkness is all that can be seen
This new found place
This sacred space
Rests in the balance between
Spirit and Flesh
Mind and Matter

Gently succumbing to an upward flow
Focus is guided by a golden hand
Until it hits its mark and the wheels begin to spin

Colors, colors, colors, colors spin
Dancing between glows of light
Muffled whispers of thoughts pass by
As spectators to this other worldly show

Before too long
It is time to go back
Into the darkness of the day

With one eye closed and two eyes open
The world you see is now bright
You’ve brought the essence here with you
You are, yourself, the light
This work by Kelsea Woods is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
You could **** a man
     with eyebrows like that.
Lips so pink
I would drink
     my fill
if I could.
The curve of your face
     more precious
          than the curvature
                of the earth.
The hair that
      falls down your back
could be woven to cloth
      just as you
are woven throughout
            my dreams.
Tonight, when I
      dream of you
(as I know I will),
I only hope
          you will look
     at least half
              as beautiful
as you do right now.

— The End —