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 Jan 2016 lowtide
faithfulpadfoot
If she is the moon,
The light of my night,
my life,
Then I am her ocean;
she directs my every ebb
and flow
 Jan 2016 lowtide
Yasmeen Hamzeh
Eve
 Jan 2016 lowtide
Yasmeen Hamzeh
Eve
I watched the swell of my ******* rise and fall with each breath, and I remembered how your eyes traced the same movement.
I absentmindedly ran my fingers along the flare of my hips, and remembered how white your knuckles were as you held on to the same flesh.

I couldn't fathom how you saw my rebirth as a slow death.

I was a woman in your arms, the flushed
state of my skin was the secret to my depths.
The breaths I released were tainted by my strung vocal chords, a hymn of truth.
Each drop of sweat that descended the nape of my neck were pearls of my wisdom.
When my toes curled it was a sign; the alignment of planets.
The goosebumps that rose on my skin were the explosion of supernovas.
The sparkle in my eyes told of humble mischief.

Only what I saw in your eyes was a distortion.
The alarm on your features whispered of disappointment.
Your eyes witnessed filth, but I smelled the scent of gardenias.
Your skin was repelled by disgust, but I tasted sweetness on my lips.

I finally realized it, your mind was woven by our culture of shame.
Subconsciously your thoughts wrapped around sin and the desecration of purity.
I let you inside, cradled your needs and desires.
I basked in the rush and desperation of your movement.
But you saw this ritual as a sacrifice, and you held the knife to split me open on your malicious alter.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but you seemed to have gone blind.

The indulgence of my body and soul was wasted.
It was wasted on you who clung to ignorance,
you who was submerged in the fragility of your ego and superiority.
I would not let you sully me, or the beauty of that moment.
I would hail my strength, and scream out my confidence.
I would relish in my femininity,
for I am a woman and I would never be ashamed.
 Oct 2015 lowtide
Sjr1000
"Dear John
By the time you read these lines,
I will be gone."

The rocking chair,
The only piece of furniture
Remaining

"Dear John
By missing the deadline for your
Dissertation
The school will not have you
returning."

The books are boxed

The rocking chair rocks on
With every breath
Taken.

You don't have to die
To have lives wilt and cry.
Looking around through curious eyes
Nothing which was remains.

"Dear John
Your lease has expired
You will be moving on."

The rocking chair
Rocks on.

The twilight seeps in through
Windows without curtains.

The door opens
A moment of melancholy
The door closes

The rocking chair without him there
Becomes still
In the twilight air.
The first stanza, "Dear John, by the time you read these lines I will be gone" is from a 1988-1992 American sit-com called Dear John, it was the opening theme song.  Always thought it was pure poetry.
I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to see a wave
But you showed me the ocean

I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to pick a ring
But you gave me your ring

I know not how to thank you enough, my dear
When I am walking over to you
I just want to find a simple heart
But you gave me a broken heart
 Oct 2015 lowtide
pushthepulldoor
If you still care
Don't ever let me know.
If you forgive me
For breaking your heart
And for leaving you behind
In that ****** town
Of addicts and death
Don't ever let me know.
I'm coming to visit
During the bitterest month
And if you see me
Don't say hello.
I'll never forgive myself.
I'll never let you know.
I'll always love you.
I'll never let you know.
I'll never let you know.
I'll never let you know.
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