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this body a structure of rupture filled with words
their censorship - an act of love but
I can still feel their rawness, tenderness,
the milk of light, the roundness of sunset
I'll give them away to the rites of spring
to the procession of the shadows that carry us with them
to the unexpected burst of you like the morning light
poetry works best in silence
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.

So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.

You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.

Thank God we’re only young once.
.
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Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 03/15/25:
Stratagem =  a trick or plan for achieving a goal
Where are the dreams born?
At the soft frontier of invisible worlds?
Where stars fade, and the sounds quiver,
like leaves in the wind.

I hear so clearly the rustle of trees,
and I fall slowly allowing myself
to linger in the void.

I feel the fragile structures of human thoughts.
I absorb their melancholic mood.
They are dancing in a gentle,
harmonious vortex.

Another dream has just been born…

Delicate drops of light
are touching my depth of soul,
drifting into the unknown.

The orbs reveal pastel reflections
caressing my mind.
This night is so calm, so tender
like the gaze of love.

Under my eyelids,
warm hope lingers.

The Gentle Night
I long to melt in your safe arms,
seen as I am.
Please, be my beloved Eden.
I will never taste
that exquisite flavor.
You are immersed
in language,
while I admire,
from my balcony,
your collocations,
your state of being,
expressed with juicy metaphors
that will never be mine,
even though I long for them.

I build bridges in the wind
strange in form.
I can offer nothing that
my sincerity and passion,
torn rather than beautifully woven.

Thank you for stopping by
reading them with wonder.
Please think warmly of me
if I fail to ignite your intellect.
I came to experience
I am a freed soul,
finding words in a foreign tongue.
I reconstruct myself
between the lines.
Thank you so much for accepting me into this community. I’m truly happy to meet you all in this virtual space
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