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Every coulee, thirsting, gladly drinks,
Every basin and every sleepless hollow;
Where duly each charitable droplet sinks,
Whither hasten the novel spring follow.

Yet it goes, unfolding as a tempo mosies
Shoots will shiver open their split edges,
To strip, unclothe their budding posies,
In the timber, the garden, and hedges;

Weaved is a grove of anchored love
A Finch or Sparrow to meet another,
A nest, a cloak, a marquee high above
A den for father, hatchlings & mother.
 Jan 2017 WoodsWanderer
Em
my year
 Jan 2017 WoodsWanderer
Em
January: It had been three months since I saw you, spoke to you; but the pain was still there, still potent. I began numbing it with ***** and boys and anything I could to distract me from what had taken place. I didn't care about school or getting a job. I just simply wanted to forget.

February: You weren't the first thing on my mind anymore when I woke; though you always crossed it. Something always reminded me of you. A smell, a sound, a feeling. Your voice had faded and name no longer made me sick. But you were still there.

March: I slept with someone else. I finally found it in me to give myself to someone else. I just wanted there to be someone. I didn't want you to have that hold on me anymore. I went against everything I thought and believed and I slept with someone else. I wasn't in love. I wasn't even in like. It was a total stranger. Just someone who could make me feel something again.

April: I thought I was going to break when what was supposed to be our six month anniversary came about. But I didn't. I didn't even think about you. You had messaged me out of the blue, apologizing. Apologizing for everything you put me through, telling me how I didn't deserve it. It made me laugh. I knew you'd come crawling back, but I knew it wasn't genuine. You still only wanted one thing from me. I threw myself into my work.

May: I was so looking forward to graduating. To moving forward. To ridding myself of you. I met someone, someone I thought nothing of at the time. He was just another temporary boy. Little did I know I'd see him again.

June: I graduated. I was free. I felt free. So many people thought I wouldn't do it. You broke me. You broke me so badly. I was still trying to fix myself with ***** and gin. I worked, I drank, I repeated. I went out and tried new things, new people. You tried apologizing again, I laughed.

July: I met him again. He showed up and hung around. I was weary of him. I didn't trust him, because of you. I didn't want it to just repeat. I was so worried he was going to hurt me like you did. I told myself I wasn't going to date him. I wasn't going to fall for him. But the butterflies that filled me every time I saw him, thought different.

August: August was full of adventures, smiles, laughs, tears, love. I saw him everyday. I spent all of my time with him. He had my attention better than anyone else had. I was falling. Oh god was I falling.

September: The adventures continued. We went to the beach, the mountains, the lakes. Everything with him was passionate. Vivid. It's like he breathed life into my lungs. He made me feel alive. I was on top of the world with him. Loving him took courage and strength. He got it all.

October: I told him I was leaving. I was leaving what I called home. Oh I think I broke him. You should have heard the shift in his tone, how his eyes grew dimmer, the sliver of hope he had left faded away. I was leaving, but he never asked me to stay.

November: November saw a month of tears. I was gone. My love, my best friend, my soulmate was so incredibly far. Physically and emotionally. I have never felt so alone. I missed him. I wanted him. Sometimes I even think I needed him. He was everything to me. Oh how badly I wanted to come home to him. I promised him I would. He couldn't wait though, he couldn't wait for me to come back to him... so he distracted himself with her. That made me question everything.

December: Meeting him at the airport after six and a half weeks was riveting. I was a wreck. What if he didn't love me anymore? What if I couldn't look at him? What if his plans for me, us, had changed? What then? Oh, but being in his arms... I've never felt so calm. So at peace. He wiped my tears. Reassured me of my fears. I began to imagine life with him, in even greater detail than before. He paralyzes me in a way you never did. He sees the broken you left behind and holds the pieces together. He looks at the hurt you left in my eye and finds beauty in it. I swear he could see into my soul.

January: I left him again. I had to go back home. I left him. I don't feel right without him. He's my person. My best friend. My go to. Not having him here is like living without oxygen. It's impossible.
Written 1.4.17
Most humans drink coffee and wine
They consume television and mainstream novels
They feed their souls with popularity contests and safe relationships

But poets
We could not survive without passion, intensity, and meaning
Everything we feel is felt to the depths of our souls
We are the ones to put into words the unspeakable pain of heartbreak
The incomprehensible joy of falling in love
We are the ones brave enough to say out loud the diaries of a thousand souls

Us poets
We drink tea and whiskey
with heavy lids i open my eyes
your gentle hums bring butterflies
i hold you close, bone to bone
together, we are no longer alone
all memories dance in our brains
fascination and obsession pulse through our veins
drifting to sleep, love in my floating heart

your heart beat whispers to which i wake
i smile and turn to see your face
and once again i start to cry
seeing the empty place where you used to lie
 Dec 2016 WoodsWanderer
Kash
Your eyes are a hazel terrain
A land foreign like mars
With valleys and peaks
Of yellows, browns and greens
And hints of frozen oceans

Your eyes are the geography
Of somewhere hidden and forgotten
A place I am supposed to navigate
But love, I'm so bad with directions

So give me more time
I plead
You know I have a handicap
And I will keep on trying
To orient the map
 Oct 2016 WoodsWanderer
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
i remember the first time your lips
touched mine, and how it felt like
the entire universe had just been
handed to me on your tongue
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