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 Oct 2011 Jayme M Yaroch
Carli
A box entitled Lost and Found.
Inside-
a ball,
a silver slinky.
A pink backpack with unicorns,
a ratty teddy bear with love in it's eyes.
A math notebook that holds all the secrets of a girl named Alicia.
A cootie-catcher that has been ripped in several places.
A metal tin lunchbox with Spiderman on it and the name William on a piece of masking tape on the handle.
A barbie doll, looking as thought it has been given an amateur haircut, and wearing a yellow dress and one pink high heel, but still smiling.
A green hairband with several purple flowers on it.
A diary with a lock, and butterflies on the cover.
A stuffed puppy dog, with a red nose.
A key, probably to a lost diary.
One black shoe,
in the Lost and Found.
 Oct 2011 Jayme M Yaroch
Liz W
I’ve finally gotten over you
I’m past the pain and lies
I should have seen how good I’d feel
Instead of crying all this time

I relinquish all my memories
Of your touch, your taste, your smell
I had to get myself on track
Or face eternity in hell

Every time your face threatens
To jump back in my mind
I take deep breaths and forget it all
And the picture does subside

I’ve finally healed the wounds
That you created in my soul
I’ve finally warmed my heart again
And banished the harsh cold

I had to do this, just for me
To get over the old feelings
I have to look towards the future
And continue with the healing
I believed,
You lied

I gave,
You craved

I cried,
You tried

I remembered,
You forgot

I loved,
You mocked

I slaved,
You depraved

I wrote,
You joked

I hurt,
You searched

I waited,
You hated

I died,
You sighed



©Rangzeb Hussain
shadows shuffle with thin letters over heads--
people try to escape the downpour of
Nature’s sadness or self-renewal.
They splash their confusion and unawareness--
the anger of no preparation.

Perhaps it’s Reality’s stupidity,
but they run to safety, warmth, comfort--
the arms of Acceptance that bring contentment--
warm coffee and eskimo kisses;
fingers on clocks vanquish light and

defy some sense of logic we deem
scientifically relevant. Suddenly, life’s bruising is as fresh as wet
pavement--as fresh as your hands--eager and innocent—
racing to find every curve, hill,
valley of my willingness.

I am sore from phantom kisses-broken
from abandonment—a coward’s half-assed fight.
As rain cheats the sun, I have been cheated
with songs that are just songs--words as paradoxical
as rainfall and sunshine harmonized.

As it rains, I don’t move--but
I feel it run; through my hair--down
softness and skin--as familiar as your hands--dust trails
embedded in my closed eyes—people, you and I, aware.
Silently, Reality knows that time—fingers on clocks--vanquishes nothing but itself.
Swimming the English Channel,
struggling to make it to Calais,
I swam into Laura halfway across.
My body oiled for warmth,
black rubber cap on my head,
eyes hidden behind goggles,
I was exhausted, ready to drown,
when I saw her coming toward me,
bobbing up and down between waves,
effortlessly doing a breaststroke,
heading for Dover.  Treading water
I asked in French if she spoke English,
and she said, "Yes, I'm an American."
I said, "Hey, me too," then asked her out for coffee.
I left you very long ago
To you, my baby, I said no.
T’was like a movie in slo-mo,
I just stood there, and I watched you go.
Now have none to watch my back
No one to fill that which I lack
No one to make me lose all track
Of time. Oh, silence doth attack.

I thought I didn’t need you
I need to clearly see through
The lies, but they were true.
I’m back to old, and broken new.
Just go. You don’t deserve me,
Though I scream, forever empty.
Never good enough. Never shall I see:
You’re my water; I’m a tree.

I draw this X upon my chest
With knife and blood and gory rest
To show what’s there: naught but void.
Your heart’s not here, and mine’s destroyed.
Don’t care if you were right or not,
My heart’s not even here to rot.
Don’t preserve it; throw away.
I don’t deserve it. Dead I stay.

Cut it out? I can no more.
You did already, blood and gore.
In madness, shoved you to the floor.
For all the ravings, I’m the *****.
No longer have angelic wings
Of yours to sooth me, nor any rings
Of promise. None of this can sing
Because I don’t have anything.

Nothing but this X upon my chest
With knife and blood and gory rest
To show what’s there: naught but void.
Your heart’s not here, and mine’s destroyed.
Don’t care if you are right or not,
My heart’s not here to rot.
Don’t preserve it; throw away.
I don’t deserve it. Dead I stay.

Yes, it really is still there.
Staring from its angry glare
Red eyes burning like a flare
It cloaks my breast, when even bare.
Funny, I didn’t feel at all,
When I cut the four-side, evil stall.
Empty spaces: chambers missing.
When skin tore, ne’er did this sting.

I rip an X upon my chest!
Forever more I’ll do this test
To show no longer have I my best
I lost it all, and gory rest.
Yes, I care that you were right
But it’s too late to save that night.
I began and ended stupid fight,
And live forever with my plight.

Stir, stir, filthy cur.
Mix it well, to be sure.
Drink it down to make all blur,
To curse me hard for losing her.

Slice, slash, petty trash.
Mark a symbol with a lash.
An X to signal monstrous crash
Infect it for eternal rash.

Jab, stab, to feel some pain
Maybe I will feel again.
Harder, faster! Make it rain!
Blood my sins and errors stain.

Mark this X upon my breast,
Deeply, cutting, hard I press.
Slicing through my dirtied chest
‘Til in the shadows I find rest.
I wrote "This X" one night when I absolutely could not sleep because of guilt I felt over removing Kaytlin from my life so thoroughly. I no longer have the scar, but I did cut the X. It is the only time I have done so.
This poem was written July 9, 2011.
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