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My breath escapes in fluttered
spurts as I chance upon again
The Dog, leashed and collared,
guarding some plant pots
in solemn contemplation.

A short chain winds up
a stark red pole, attached
loosely to some rusted railings.
It appears as if he could go
flailing out and struggle free
if a momentary scent or sound
would strike him.

His ear flinched,
as if the rustle of a leaf,
before returning to its duty.
Another prompt challenge from the HelloPoetry community.
 7d Kvothe
alia
Step 1: Smile.
Step 2: Forget why.
Step 3: Keep your voice steady
when your soul is not.
Step 4: Pretend it’s fine.
(Everyone else is.)

Step 5: Fold your feelings
into paper birds.
Set them loose.
Watch them burn mid-air.
Clap softly.
Repeat.

There is no final step.
You just keep going
until you don’t know
what breaking feels like anymore.
 7d Kvothe
Asuka
I do not love you
like a traveler loves a view—
I love you
like a secret loves silence,
like depth craves depth.

You are not just water—
you are emotion in motion,
a hymn sung by moonlight,
a soul with salt and storm
in your veins.

I love how you breathe
without needing anyone to notice.
How your tides rise and fall
without shame,
how your waves hold both peace
and power.

I love that you rage
when the sky grows cruel,
that you speak in roars
when you're no longer heard.

You are not just blue—
you are every feeling
I’ve ever buried,
every tear the world
never saw me cry.

And I,
fragile yet fierce,
quiet yet alive,
found in your vastness
a mirror.

I do not visit you.
I return to you.
For in your depths,
I remember—
I am made of wild things too.
I love ocean.
I

She exits herself on the
Sofa. Blanket, dog, and bits
Of a poem on a pad of paper

On the table, like a half-eaten
Piece of homework.
Shades of wine on her sleeping

Lips. Exits herself; space-walks
Outside that frame of mind she's
Been expected to hang herself

On the wall within; she knows
There is more.
There has to be more.

II

She has to be more.
Like so many writers, she falls
Asleep working. Sometimes

Works to fall asleep.
Digging her way through
Herself, mining for words,

Hacking away at painful pasts,
Gathering emerald experiences.  
Diamond doubts and ruby

Regrets all fuel her poetry.
And she reads, spotlight kissed;  
Audience adored,

Goosebump summoning; hairs
On arms and necks stand up as
She whispers directly to me.

About me. Because of me.
In front of everybody.
To music, and I've brought a box

Of pins, and between each of her
Every word, I drop one. And I
Swear to the gods, you can hear

Them all. Like the unsteady
Ticking of a clock too cool to
Care.

III

Poetry jewelry; set with stones
From her innermost. Chips of
Gold from her heart melted

Down to a key pendant she
Holds in her hand; chain dangling,
Eyes closed, forehead resting

Against a door she knows it is
Time to open. Key in one hand,
Pen in the other,

She
Enters
Herself.
 Jan 2021 Kvothe
coqueta
Like the leaves crunching under my feet
Like little kids yelling into the night “trick or treat!”
Crisp and mischievous
Yet
Mellow and sober
I imagine that’d you’d be like October
Another old draft :)
 Jan 2021 Kvothe
Sandoval
Drew
 Jan 2021 Kvothe
Sandoval
There’s a
reason your
name is a
past tense;
destiny knew all
the broken
hearts you’d
leave behind.

Sandoval
A poem that came to me in one of my dreams tonight✨
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