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 Apr 2015 Haniatira
ryn
This is me...*          
Seeking refuge          
under a tree,          
As the wind released          
it's pensive sigh.          
Leaves sapped dry          
were then set free.          
Shades of yellow          
took to the air in an          
attempt to fly.          

This is me...
Peering through
jaundiced eyes.
Laying still
in a torrent of
ochre.
As leaves fall
from lowered skies,
Drenching
and
submerging
me in a sea of
scattered amber.

This is me...          
Captivated by this          
spectacular phenom.         
Flavescent dance          
governed by          
wind and gravity.         
This is the dream...          
Too long held for ransom          
By the relentless          
grasp of reality.         

This is me...
Awaiting such time to
arise and run.
In my heap,
my safe haven,
my fortress of yellow.
Till the inevitable set of
the *orange
sun
Only then...
myself to the moon
I would again
show.
 Apr 2015 Haniatira
Rassy
Stuff
 Apr 2015 Haniatira
Rassy
There's so much things in my head right now. Can't think straight.
 Apr 2015 Haniatira
girl
empty
 Apr 2015 Haniatira
girl
I was a disregard
someone you’d not stay with
everything about you, mended my heart
yet you let it descend

That Monday morning,
And in the moments beyond oblivion
we engulfed ourselves in rusts of our companionship;
our arms nudging as we sat in the last train cabin
your heavy breath on my shoulder,
my eyes lowered in gaze,
your arms warmly embraced.

and, a sudden thread of silence came in
from the depths of your soul,
you whispered you love me

the rush in my body escalated
then I realized,
this is all a transient hope
you'll bid goodbye in the fragment of time


you were gone,
you left me in this pretence of love,
you ripped every part of me along,
you were gone,
and so was I
A poem I wrote for a friend of mine who recently went through a tough and hollow time.
My niece asked about you yesterday,
she said she liked you.
I said, " I like him too, but we're just friends."
That was a lie, but sometimes it is okay to pretend,
when something is too complicated for a child to comprehend.
I do hope, however, I never have to lie like that again.
Because as the words left my lips
I remembered how achingly I missed
you, my best friend.
 Apr 2015 Haniatira
Dawn King
was
on the evening
of the harvest moon
neurotic tensions
whirling
everything just
stirring  
dreams as visions
come without sleep
and i fall deep
into a cesspool of
cerebration
and the grisly truth
that accompanies
thankful that only
the coyotes may hear
the loud cries
of a broken woman
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