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I have revised love letters
to contend with the headers
to change always and forever
to thanks for the effort.

© Matthew Harlovic
I almost wrote a poem
saying it would be
the last one
I ever write for you.
                   I almost meant it.
But I reside in a forest of words
I long to lay upon your feet.
You are the only tenant.
Though I have already seen you hunger
for a wood more abundant with beauty.
You yearned
for the abstract; the colorful.
This is where I failed you, love,
for all I have to offer
is the pattern of my handwriting
against a bleak sheet of paper.
How is that to contest
a canvas
that turns heads
with its baby pinks and powder blues?
So I lay here
in the woods
that swarm with lost things,
longing to see the sun again.
And I am always reaching
      and reaching
             and reach i n g
But I am never quite there.
Still in the forest
with an abundance of almosts.
she calls me
she calls me & I don't answer
she calls to say her grandma
is failing fast & the twins
aren't sleeping & they're angry

come on over I say
I only have two calloused hands
& a sixty hour work week
bony feet & a bottle of
chocolate wine & I ask if she's ever
slept four on a full sized mattress

the boys will be fine I say
bring both elmos
a set of pastel paints
& you can run your fuzzy-sock feet
up my legs & warm your small hands
on my space heater heartbeat

grandma will see good Friday
& easter sunday I say
& probably even her own
late April birthday
barely audible as the boys snore
like miniature sawmills
through peppermint toothpaste
ringed open mouths

the last thing I feel before sleep
is her smile stretching across my
bare chest & her hands catch fire
& wander toward a cooler spot of skin
I thought i was the only flower in your garden
I thought i was the only leaf on your tree.
I thought i was the only drop in your ocean
And i thought, you needed me.

                                                        ­                                       -**A.H
© copyright
I am the daughter of
Fear and conformity
I wish to give birth to
Courage and hope
Shared on Hello Poetry on February 12, 2016
Copywrite under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved

Yada yada  yada
Be the change!!!
You were never to blame
For it was I who wrapped
myself around your finger
The warmth there pleased me
It was I who chose to eat
Off the palm of your hand
Everything tasted better there
Shared on Hello Poetry on February 2, 2016
Copywrite under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Blah blah blah
 Feb 2016 Kate Ballalatak
Gary L
bitten is the enemy
with fists of a smitten entity
it's a vision of my tendencies
a constriction of my identity

I play with snakes

slither into misery
hiss to me a mystery
fitting the skin of slippery
bitter is this venom's history
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