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 Apr 2016 Lou Morgan
Holly
Don't fall in love with your friends.

Don't catch eyes with them across a party.
Don't notice how bright their smile shines.
Don't listen to the deafening beautiful sound of their laughter.

When you're drunk and alone, don't say,
"Can I lay my head on your lap?"
Don't notice the gentle way they touch your hair.
Don't admire the way they moved to the floor after you fell asleep.

Don't let the warm embrace go to your head.
When they kiss you,
Don't obsess over the perfection of their lips.
You need to know, he will never kiss you that way again.

When you cry together,
Don't believe it's understanding.
Just know you both are weak.

When you meet again,
Don't let your heart flutter.
Don't stare at them like they are the most beautiful thing in the world.
Don't.

Don't fall in love with your friends.
You need to know you'll never be anything more than that.
But I fell in love still.
 Mar 2016 Lou Morgan
AM
Saturate
 Mar 2016 Lou Morgan
AM
he blinked, he smiled, he looked like the sky
so blue, yet new, the highest intensity of hue
I lived inside the blackest silence for so long
now everything lights up like a love song
 Mar 2016 Lou Morgan
Gidgette
He would bring me orchids,
To the cemetery late at night
We would make love amongst the tombstones
In the pale, moonlight
Whispering sweet promises,
We both knew could never be
I prayed to the godless heavens,
That he'd be mine for eternity
Now he forever lies,
In that cemetery by the sea
Only the scent of death and orchids,
Brings his memory back to me
Subject

Shortly after our
first date I joked
Don’t make me write a poem about you.

It’s been a year and I laugh
because my poems
have become your home.

It’s been a year and
you’re kissing
someone else and
I’m just kissing people
who aren’t you.

Waking up next to you
for the last time
we knew it was and
we had to tell each other
not to cry so we could
kiss for the last time

When we broke
you said to me
I don’t want to be the subject of one of your poems.

But I warned you.
9/18/14 – 4/4/15 – 9/14/15
 Mar 2016 Lou Morgan
Bailey
You turn the water on.
You pour in the neglected bubble bath liquid, you pour in a lot.
You are expecting much from this bottle as you empty it of its contents. You step into the tub and lay down.
Then you see; your toes stick out of the water, the water gets cold too fast, there are no toys to distract you from the awkward silence between you and the bubbles you were expecting to ease your pain, to set your mind free.
You curse the bubbles, stand up and pull the drain, not bothering to watch the soapy water swirl into nothingness.
You turn the shower on and rinse off.
You get out and wrap a towel around you and put on your sinful clothes.
You walk away from the bathroom.
It’s then that you realize your skin is baby soft, the bubbles had done something for you after all.
You forgot to thank them before you pulled that plug, sending them to their doom.
It wasn't their fault.
You are the one that grew, that left them in the back of your cupboard. You're ashamed for only about a minute before you return to your daily routine, only to get ***** once again.
broke the poem up because a few people suggested it
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