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21 years and 9 months;
that's how long it took
for me to realize
that every morning
we all have 2 choices:

Open our eyes slowly
or open them quickly,

and it was always about attitude.

The first
is a drug.

Sheets pull us in
as if they were
an injection,
an infection,
holding us captive
in a warmth
that can only be temporary.

The second
is freedom.

A quick flash of light
sings our eyes awake,
like a shout,
like a shake,
letting go of the night
in a shotgun moment
as the first breath of air.

Of the two,
I wish to be the latter.
Someday,
my hands will be full
of callouses,

old
with wrinkles,
like ripples
in time.

The skin
will flake and dry,
and I
will give thanks
as I sleep.

Someday.
I don't know my ideal future, but I hope it will be judged by these simplest of variables.
 Jul 2016 Jobeth Bufi
innocentia
I love you

greed and desire
toxic and poison
love and hate
you and me
we are dangerous for each other but do we care
the world can stop and stare
as we take turns to love and despair
you are mine and I am yours
we are one and I love you and the pain that comes with it
you are mine and I don't care
the world can stop and stare I don't care
 Jul 2016 Jobeth Bufi
innocentia
woke up and gazed at him
he lays there quite
I greet him good morning
he lays there silent
I lay on his chest, searching for a heart beat
he lays there still
I say a short silent prayer
he lays there motionless
I try to block the thousands hopeless thoughts...

I am hopeless
he is gone...

— The End —