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:):
If Life has taght me anything yet, it is that a person can never have enough notebooks.
Even wan hills
looked better in
threadbare light
You were the whisper
of a neon lights
noses to the sky
in a pitch plastic night
I walked by their obstinate
legs, haunted by a plastic bag
gliding on negligent bursts.
upon arrival
roughly hung doors
of understanding
lit by cheap sulfur bulbs.
The handles too large for
small palms to turn
my feet knew better ways home
they ambled on beside my plastic ghost.
I inhaled sparks
Because sparks are love.
And bonfires are
Orphanages for sparks.
And a burning fire
Sometimes sends sparks my way.

I inhaled sparks
From a bonfire that
Had been lit by a Giant.
He asked
"Are you cold?"
And knelt down with two
Sticks between his hands
Even though I was quite not cold.
He went to work
With two sticks
That turned into vapid flame
And the sparks
Jumped from the fire
Like kids running away from home.
I walked to the fire pit and
Caught the sparks with my hands.
Held them up to my face like a cup of coffee
And with one swift breath
I inhaled sparks.
And oh God,
It wasn't enough.
They needed to be rekindled.
 Nov 2012 Katherine Paist
August
Buy me clothing, man of mine
Dress me up
And dress me down

Take me to see the lights
Swish me away
And give me up

Bite your lip and cluck your tongue
Let me be
And I'm not young
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
Words hang from twisted emotions like blossoms from a garland,
Dropping, then gathered into sentences to be delivered as expressions.

Discussed and considered, feelings form, fear or confusion arises.
Happiness, delightful excitement is offered.

To be taken and sensed, or dismissed and forgotten there's always the choice between trusting or suspicion.

Belief is difficult when experiences are dampened with pain and hurt, not fulfilling.
A chance for happiness perhaps, amongst the chaos that is reality.

Respite from the toughness, see the lightness offered through kindness and love.
Non judgemental consideration and beauty, helps the pain and emotional restriction.

To give is wonderful, to be able to accept is incredible.

Too many words have been spoken in early excitement, from the heart rises love, desire and need.

The head overflows, logic disappears to be replaced with more of the same, belief forming.

The sense of being, confused  by the strength of the connection and depth of feeling.

Joined in natures embrace and pleasuring touch, joy, happiness and deep, deep emotion intermingle

Searching for understanding, a meaning, is there one or is this just how it is for now?
 Nov 2012 Katherine Paist
Bags
Every sitting skulking bag
lets out complaints, restraints, a drag.
A second little birdie says:
your skull is just a part of your head.
 Nov 2012 Katherine Paist
J S
Forgo Summer to Die in the Winter


its quite alright that your a *****.
you should have never showed up last night
i thought I told you the score
repeat, repeat, repeat
a time or two before
dance this silly dance we do
back and forth
score for love, a score for secrecy  
we should have never held one another that close
electric and morose  
it's over and it can't be fixed
there is no coming back from abysm
instead I seek an important peace, within me,
and for us, for us
do you remember the us?  
wait, i heard you
no longer an us
we are nothing
as you say, as you say, as you say
but I held out for respect of a friend
none to be had
you show me how that can be done,
more lethal than a loaded gun  
sad me walks and walks alone, alone, alone again
you leave in silent steps
quiet tongue
as always
as always
no change
you say I confuse your truth for mean
you confuse my communication for gibberish
your ears go numb
you forget...
me
you act as if you don't know what to say...
to me
so much time to know me yet you remain amaurotic
you curtail and introvert  
deaf ears, hardened heart
questioning the tears
telling me to not roll them out
you wouldn't, why would I?
berating, blind, black-hearted
forgiveness is but a lark
It was important
I tried to tell you
I am sorry you chose to miss it
this is going to hurt...
it’s yours

— The End —