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 Feb 2015 ghost girl
September
m
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
September
m
the last thing i said to you was that i loved you

lost in translation from english to english

i said one thing, and then

you said no more
I  decide  not  to  name  my  poems  until 
I'm  completely
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
September
i've got 99 problems and
they're all different
ways to spell your name.
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
Inked Papers
She loves the idea of love,
and I am the slave of it.  
She loves the idea of happiness,
and I am deprived of it.
She loves the idea of this and that,
and I am giving her this and that.

I wonder if she do love me, or clinging on false pretenses.
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
SG Holter
To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
September
1.
Firsts can never change,
But they can most certainly
Oh, be forgotten.

2.
Do not say my name.
Say my name again—say hers.
This time: I dare you.

3.
When I stripped you of
Your faith, I had asked you if
God was still watching.

4.
Perhaps flirtation—
Music taste, or lucky liquor.
Perhaps loneliness.

5.
Never spoke a word,
Until substance set us free
Upon each other.

6.
We were nothing more
Than slutty dancing, slurred words,
And a messy bed.

7.
Sleep—an illusion.
I start to wonder if you,
Love, were one as well.

8.
I was more to you
In one night—than you were to
Me in seven years

9.
Little golden boy:
How can you hate the whole world
Yet say you love me?

10.
I was sick, alone.
You were not special—just there.
Still sick. Still alone.

11.
I stole from God again.
You were young, and I— Oh, I
Just want to stargaze

12.
Smoke green under green—
sweat under sheets—broken bones—
Blood on hardwood floors.

13.
Hands can hold tightly.
Skin can connect easily.
Words can lie sweetly.

14.
You have green eyes, and—
soft hands, and— loving skin, and—
Nothing I deserve

15.
Let's talk about ***.
Let's talk about love. Let's talk
*About the sadness
I regret nothing of my life.
Written about fifteen people who I'm told are supposed to mean something to me.
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
Syzygy
You are
The reason I cry
The reason I laugh
The reason I smile
The reason I frown.

You are
The reason
I feel this dread
And this utter happiness.

You are the reason
My heart beats
Just a little faster
And the reason
It stops.

And for many other reasons unknown but you,
You
Are the reason I love.
I felt in an oddly romantic mood for some reason.... oh well.~
 Jan 2015 ghost girl
Moon Humor
The lust we share on cold midnights, lucid
and gentle but so passionate and rough
can keep me hypnotized. Translucent blue
eyes shine like moonstone, glinting bright with love
hidden from sight. I want to call you mine
but I know better than to pine over
a man up way too high, stuck on cloud nine
not planning to come down or to get sober.
I’ll let myself get lost a little while
in the forest of curls behind your ears.
I’ll wander your body concealing smiles
that give away feelings that interfere
with the promise to love myself before
someone else. I am who I’m living for.
A sonnet written in iambic pentameter complete with rhyme scheme.
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