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 Aug 2020 Tanisha Jackland
ross
~

with you,
i found comfort
in the silence
clocks no longer
counting minutes
every moment timeless


~
Don't treat my poems
as passing clouds.

At times, even passing
clouds eclipse the Sun!
I give you clean air

You give me poisonous gas.

I give you mountains

You give me quarries.



I give you pure snow

You give me acid rain.

I give you spring fountains

You give me toxic canals.



I give you a butterfly

You gave me a plastic bottle.

I give you a blackbird

You gave me a stealth bomber.



I give you abundance

You give me waste.

I give you one last chance

You give me excuse after excuse.
Why you lament that you are alone

Stars in the sky are alone,

yet they twinkle with love.

Sun and Moon are alone,

Yet they have not

stopped giving light to us.

Live alone.

Love people from a distance.

Nearness to humans lead to

Propinquity and propinquity

in turn leads to conflict.

Your mind will then again long for

loneliness!
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
Sylvia didn't waste time

She kept time

In a bell jar

On her nightstand

Next to the blissfully whirling blackness of eternal oblivion

All in the hopes it might one day grow wings

And lift her beyond the owl's talons clenching her heart
for Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)
i bring
my blue
childhood
to this
table;
you bring
all of
the pink
hurt that
you have
collected
in jars,
from
trying
to love
over
the years.
we sit here
together
for hours,
summers,
autumns,
winters,
and strive
to make
our
home
less
and
less
purple.
a ceramic
coffee cup,
old percolator,
your wrists.

clink clink —

the stirring
of sugar.
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