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johannah Apr 2019
just a glimpse
into what happy could be
in someone’s arms
is enough to have me floating
for weeks.
the reality is,
what goes up must come down,
and I come down
every time
crashing.
written after my first break up inspired by one of my mother’s poems, she too is a hopeless romantic, I think its hereditary.
  Apr 2019 johannah
Keith Kirwan
I long for the days where her spoken words,
bring back my written ones.
  Apr 2019 johannah
Matt Bernstein
The bed is empty again.
Warmth settles in the void
now reclaimed
by neatly tucked sheet corners
and a fading memory in the mattress.
A wayward dream of soft snores
begging to come true

One pillow
recovering from a restless night,
the other
frozen like marble.
Too foreign to be disturbed.
Too real to be dismissed.
Too distant to be admired
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