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A poem is like a tickle,
It gives you joy and pain:
With blissful tears and
Tearful giggles,
You'll read that poem again.

A poem is like a damaged heart
In need of surgery:
The cut that heals,
A line that leaves
A scar along your heart.
A smile fell in the grass.
Irretrievable!

And how will your night dances
Lose themselves. In mathematics?

Such pure leaps and spirals ----
Surely they travel

The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift

Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.

Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,

And the tiger, embellishing itself ----
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.

The comets
Have such a space to cross,

Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gestures flake off ----

Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling

Through the black amnesias of heaven.
Why am I given

These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes

Six sided, white
On my eyes, my lips, my hair

Touching and melting.
Nowhere.
Blood moon reigns tonight,
Marking time of her leaving,
  .  .  .   Night sky is bleeding.
Five AM, dawn
Like dead and God just woke up
Eyes blink to rekindle, yawn
Mind reinstates the system with an unfastened locker
Predator is prey
Rebels tie boots and camouflage through Monday.
“At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality...We must strive every day so that this love of living humanity will be transformed into actual deeds, into acts that serve as examples, as a moving force.”
-Ernesto "Che" Guevara
He is the wind, gracefully touching my skin, reminding me he is there.
He is the warm sunlight gleaming down on
me.
He is all the things I cannot see, only feel. He is everything to great for me to understand. He was someone that belonged in my heart destined to be mine.
He is gone but I still feel him in every breath of air, every beautiful moment, every starry sky. Love was ruined for me, but will never be forgotten.

— The End —