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  Oct 2014 HippieHandwriting
Zaynub
my mom told me i look homeless

i told her i was
lost sad depressed suicidal lonely homeless alone parent mom angry frustration crying silence unhappy
Summertime sadness
blaring on my radio
sitting on the floor in my room.
Sometimes the ceiling
is so comforting.
I don't know really.
See I may be some sort of emotional sap.
But girl, your eyes, they take me places.
I might be confused and unsure about how I feel about you.
But every single time I see your eyes my heart melts.
I'm afraid to ask you how you feel about me.
But those beautiful brown eyes make me feel affection.
When I look at those eyes.
I feel like a weight has been lifted.
I feel like my heart has drifted,
To you.
When I look at those eyes.
I feel a cold snowy day,
Inside, drinking hot cocoa.
I feel us cuddling under the blankets,
Watching a romantic movie.
When I look at your eyes.
I feel at home.
When I look at your eyes,
I am home.
My heart hurts for you on nights like these.
My soul bleeds for you when you feel like this.
You've told me again and again.
"I hate being everyone's second choice."
Well you're my first.
Those brown eyes shouldn't have a single tear in them.
If I could choose from any girl in the world I'd choose you.
  Oct 2014 HippieHandwriting
Moon Humor
Scorched pavement would hold on to day
light. The concrete,
still warm, would kiss my barefoot feet.

Until dark I
would roam on summer nights, tasting
freedom in my

midnight curfew. When autumn came,
dancing in like
blown leaves skinned off weary trees, the

sumac flushed red
as cardinals wings blanketing
the landscape and

reminding me that winter comes
with a heavy
hand. Bitter green apples fall from

the backyard tree,
does and fawns passing through to eat
the fallen fruit

are startled by me and dart back
to the swamp where
the fog rises up every night.

Poplar trees stood tall while their leaves
made the final
kamikaze plunging fall. New

Converse shoes made
their debut on the way to school,
briefly, happy.

Winter brought isolation and
dreams of still warm
city streets under wandering

feet. Holding out
through cold purple glow, I wait for
spring’s warmer air.
Seasonal Affective Disorder
I spend my life,
A night at a time.
I hide myself away.
At night, and afraid.
Of myself I think.
Or my future.
I spend my life,
My life in the moonlight,
Admiring the night.
Her cars and her stars,
Her drunks stumbling out of bars.
I spend my life in the moonlight.
Because the moon stays in my thoughts,
My dreams,
The moonlight is my muse.
She inspires me to dream.
Because I'm losing hope.
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