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 Jun 2023 Madeline Hatter
GieAn
"Follow your heart."
They will always say.

But mine is in million pieces
So I asked,
"Which way?*"
 May 2023 Madeline Hatter
Luke
I went out to find
Some value in me,
So I sold what I had
For little a fee.

My eyes for a penny
I sold to some fools,
They're blind and useless,
Mistook for jewels.

My lips for a nickel
To the sweetest sin,
So they'll know the love
That has never been.

My ears for a dime
I sold to a lover.
To hear sweet nothings,
And silence uncover.

My hands for a quarter
I sold to a ghost,
So that she might feel
What I've wanted the most.

Finally my bones for a dollar
I sold to the earth,
But as for my soul-
There was found no worth.
To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.
The beauty of your words takes my breath away some days.  Thank you.
 Sep 2019 Madeline Hatter
yúyīn
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Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
Loving you
A poison I would drink with pleasure
Any day of the week
Exhaustion is putting raucous children to bed
Left to their own devices they'll  pain your head
Once you've finally settled them down
Your face will be stuck in a perma-frown
Later when you check if everything's OK
They'll look like angels sleeping away  
Don't be fooled by this little deception
Angelic sleeping children are the exception
Be ever aware, certain to stay on your toes
There may be nightmares, as everyone knows.....
Stop; giggling, losing your stuffed friends, talking, telling knock-knock jokes, needing water, using the bathroom, needing extra kisses and hugs or having imaginary ailments
It’s the Stanley Cup Finals, The Penguins are doing well
So I’m a hockey widow but on this I don’t dwell
My man is as tense and excited as a first time Dad
So they better kick ***, or he’ll really be mad
If they lose in game seven, I’ll get my husband back
To make him feel better I’ll get nasty in the Sack
Go Penguins!
She said;
Once I heal from all these chemical burns
I'll exude forgiveness
You'll be impressed by my emotional stability
And my lack of vulnerability
I'll be such a gentle *****
You lose sight of when our roles switched
I have another dimension to my soul now
All the knives are out of my throat now
All the stories are rewrote now
It's impossible to detect the dishonesty in my voice
maybe it’s because she hides iron fists
in soft velvet gloves.
maybe it’s the authority dripping off her tongue
like honey
slow, and sweet and overwhelming
maybe
just,
maybe it’s because
she’s a woman.
//much word *****, such wow
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