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 Apr 2014 Hera
Ianna Gayle
Death
 Apr 2014 Hera
Ianna Gayle
I asked for your hands
You gave me knives

I asked for the truth
You gave me lies

I asked for laughter
I was given cries

I asked for honesty
I was awakened by infidelity

I asked for hope
I was given ropes

I asked for a little rest
I was given death
 Apr 2014 Hera
John Updike
Solitaire
 Apr 2014 Hera
John Updike
Black queen on the red king,
the seven on the black
eight, eight goes on the nine, bring
the nine on over, place
jack on the queen. There is space
now for that black king who,
six or so cards back,
was buried in the pack.
Five on six, where's seven?
Under the ten. The ace
must be under the two.
Four, nine on ten, three, through.
It's after eleven.
 Apr 2014 Hera
Jaanam Jaswani
He creeps near to the foot of my bed
With that smirk
Oh he's come to cocoon me away to his army
Of dented men
With cropped souls

He asked
But never said please
To come with him
Where it's warm
I shook my head

He persuaded me
But never said please
To come with him
Where gems trickle down your face
I said no

He insisted
But never said please
To come with him
Where his home was
I refused

He forced me
But never said please
To come with him

When a comforting light pierced through my eyes

I couldn't see what it was
For it was far too beautiful
It sheered the man away

It was so modest
So against the beauty of living
Of looking, of tasting
It was a stoic;
Passionless

It was like the water
So against the grains of sand
Of dirt, of ink
It was a stoic;
Calm

It was so indifferent
So against the pull of pleasure
Of sin, of feeling
It was a stoic;
Strong

It was like god
It was god
For nothing
Would come close
To freeing the devil off the foot of my bed.
 Feb 2014 Hera
R
have you ever had those days
when you miss that feeling
of the blade touching your skin
and barely missing a vein?
the excitement you feel
when blood pours out
and the manic grin that
spreads across your face
as the pain subsides?'

i'll be honest,
it is what i have thought about
all day long.
i want the blood
and the pain and the
momental joy.

but, that is all it is.
the feeling flees the second
i am done, the high is gone
and all i am left with is
a ripped up wrist.

hopefully, love isn't the same way.
but, all great addictions usually are.
sorry.
i didnt cut, obviously.
but i cant lie, i miss it so much.
ive been so happy, i hate that this feeling, that this need is still there.

— The End —