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Idiosyncrasy Aug 2017
Maybe it's too late for us
But it's not too late for me.

*I'll save me.
Back up.
  Aug 2017 Idiosyncrasy
MJ
there is
a           mess
about her,

fluttering
towards  open

    space.


writhing

below pale
skin,

refusing to sit

so structurally,
so secured

in flesh.


wildly
           bending
and      swelling,


becoming

the
           savage


she so calmly
swears

isn’t there.











*-MJS
Idiosyncrasy Aug 2017
Now there is only
one thing left to say
I love you
Always
That is not a metaphor.
We writers have a way of expressing our love in ways that sometimes people do not understand. We try to cover our love with sweet words like everyone's favorite chocolate or sparkles brighter than the diamonds on fingers. Then, there is pain too. Sometimes our words are sadder than we are. Sometimes they cannot even contain the intensity of what we feel. In the end, what we really want to offer is our love.

I plan to make this the ending of a long poem but I have not written anything more yet so this is all there is for now.
  Jul 2017 Idiosyncrasy
nina
his bags were packed & ready to go
but his clothes still hung in the closet.
he had his plane ticket tucked away
but he said he wouldn't be leaving yet.
he didn't care much to put in any effort
since he knew he'd be long gone soon.
careless about the messes he made
reminding himself "i leave at noon".
his body was there, laying on the bed
but his mind was ever so far away.
physically here, but had already left
unable to reverse our loves' decay.
i remember his bags were ready to go
months before he packed them.
i remember his feet had left me
weeks before he moved them.

for just a moment in your eyes
i swear, i felt the packing begin
i look at them now, unpacked & empty
& i pray they never get packed again.
{i pray you don't do what my ex did}
  Jul 2017 Idiosyncrasy
Sadia
Even the moon lit up, brilliant, when she saw the beauty in your darkness.
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