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The stables
where horses
snort and move

and grooms work
and sky dull
and greyish

Alice walks
holding on
for dear life

to the hand
of Mary
the one she

has chosen
to be her
new mother

fingers red
with washing
chores and things

but it's warm
as she holds
the hand tight

Mary talks
of cold nights
noisy bed

attic mice
and spiders
in corners

of the room
Alice says
I could stay

in your room
keep you warm
cuddle up

hold you close
as I did
with Mother

in her bed
before she
was locked up

with illness
of her brain
Mary sighs

feels the hand
in her own
small and warm

small fingers
tiny nails
pink and pure

different class
than her own
we will see

Mary says
stable sounds
horses snort

their large heads
looking out
******* eyes

large white teeth
busy grooms
at their work

Alice looks
inner fear
but draws near

wants to stroke
Mary lifts
Alice up

her red hands
wedged beneath
small armpits

mother's love
smells the soap
in the hair

on the blue
pinafore
Alice smiles

feels the horse
smooth and hot
on her hand

Mary holds
feels the heart
beating soft

as she holds
Alice up
to the horse

secret child
adopted
in her heart

none must know
of this love
secret pact

lift her on
a groom says
Alice thrills

lifted there
Mary holds
the groom laughs

in loud barks
in the blood
this horse love

the groom says
Alice smiles
happiness

shining out
of her eyes
Mary holds

her tightly
keeps her there
on the horse

safe and sound
then later
after that

lifts her down
to the ground
as the horse

with the groom
walk away
come on then

Mary says
let's go back
your father

will wonder
where you are
Alice nods

holds the hand
soft and warm
wants to be

close to her
but she sees
by the house

Nanny stand
arms folded
grim features

dressed in black
Mary holds
the child's hand

tighter still
walking back.
A MAID WALKS A YOUNG GIRL TO HER FATHER'S STABLES IN 1890.
 Jan 2014 Giavanna Corriero
S D S
There's nothing pretty inside her head
Lips are shiny, eyes are dead
No one hears a thing she says

Her fake smile makes my skin crawl, teeth clack
Sun colored hair braided back
A painted doll all dressed up

Skin's like caramel or ***** cream
Hands float dangerously close
Air for brains and dirt for soul
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 Jan 2014 Giavanna Corriero
Mari
I want to **** men all my life
I want to **** men without a wife
I want to **** men with broken hearts
Just to pretend
That I'm the one they loved
Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger
I'd like to compare it to believing in a god you've never seen.
Trying to convince everyone you know that it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.
But you don't know who he is.
Gone.
With the smell of the coffee still reminiscent in his words.
That cologne,
You've smelled it on some one else.

Blue.
Like the color of the ocean in his eyes.
And now you're drowning with no water in sight.
Throat dry, because he's taken every ounce there was within miles.
He doesn't know it though.
He's just a stranger after all.

Conversation.
Something about that New York band and living somewhere by the sea.
Big dreams from the beautiful soul you'll only encounter for 45 minutes.
Long before you notice, it was only his lunch break,
And you, only sight seeing.

Now you're longing.
Longing for lips you've never kissed.
And the bitter politics.
Because he hates voting.
American man who's a slave to a good story.
Still a child at heart but only for 45 minutes at a time,
And that's when he's with you.
Because god forbid someone sees him for who he really is.
And thank god it's only the people who will never see him again.
And maybe,
Just maybe,
If someone were to hear him out for once
He wouldn't hear voices in his head,
Or talk to strangers about all the awful things he's done in bed.

He likes to have *** with the lights off
Because no one can see how awful you are in the dark.
And it makes a little more sense that you can't see the voices
When you can hardly see the palms of your hands.

And you sat there.
Contemplating how a man with beautiful bones, could ever feel so low.
You wanted to;
Run your hand along his chin,
And touch the black that is his sole.
But you held back.
After all he's just someone you don't know.

As he stood up,
Smiling with lips that should be considered a sin,
Returning to busy crowd that he used as a metaphor for the chaos that is his life.
You thought,
"I love a man who uses metaphors."
And then you said.
"Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger?"
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