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 May 2014 Melanie Walsh
Wanderer
The light in his eyes
shines brighter than the sun
 May 2014 Melanie Walsh
bucky
she says -
if i carve your name onto my ribcage in the morning before the sun comes up will it come true? will it **** you this time?
maybe ill lie down so that you can pick me apart,
fingernails breaking on my iron skin
would you like that?
 May 2014 Melanie Walsh
Danni
Anxiety is fun.
Loads of fun.

Freaking out over the life lost
that has nearly begun.

Heart pounding to the thought
of my teaching career in the future.

Freaking out about the great friends
I've made, and the man
I just started talking to.

Breaths shortening to the thought
of failing my first year.

I want to live, to achieve,
to not lose another, to succeed.

Why do I have to be so anxious…
about everything?
If I could write you into the walls of my home,
I wonder if it’d still be standing.
Would the candlelight dancing on the wall
Remember the way your lips danced with mine?
The kitchen where we watched the birds
Dance through the trees, chasing one another
Similar to how we played tag through the hallways
And bedrooms of our house.
The bathroom where the tub fills with water like
How my anatomy filled at dusk and dawn with your love.
The living room where we fell asleep so many times
Watching our favorite movies in nothing but our skin
And the light illuminating from the TV screen.
I leave the screen on, the images flashing against
The wall where our pictures still hang.
I blanket myself in make-shift flesh and tell myself
The threads of the cover are your hands and arms.
The sheets over our bed hold your absence
Like an infant child cradled in his mother’s embrace.
Your pillow, covered in cologne and aftershave that lingers
Rests in my arms as I hug the object and pretend it’s your body.
The shower head rains water that blends my tears
Down the drain with the heartbreak I’m left with.  
But your voice still sings from inside the painted walls,
Behind the picture frames, blowing in the curtains that
Cover the windows. Most importantly, you linger in the
Floorboards and inside the beams that hold my house together.
rough draft. comments and feedback is encouraged and appreciated :)
I lay in the bathtub soaking
wet with water running
around my silhouette.  Shaking
as the washcloth smeared regrets
over my skin. The bubbles
give my sins a scent.

As I vent I leave the shower
running so my sobs
are the only thing drowning.
The constant tapping on my face
keeps me awake as I sink into
the various stews my mind creates.

Weights are lifted with pruning. Peeling
of dead skin keeps me from
reeling into depression. There is a harmonic
progression between the faucet and my face,
the scrubbing and my disgrace, the steam and
my own embrace.

I need this state. The decompression
from being bottled up, like a coke, with a smile
is worthwhile. It teaches me
that the expression of  weakness
is key in the building of a better Timothy.
©May 13th, 2014 by Timothy Brown.
i am afraid of having to feel
this way towards you.
this is familiar,
it is a warning sign perched
on the edge of a cliff,
and i am the clueless traveler
blinded by the sunlight and
the colors of the sky.
you are the bottom of
the seemingly infinite cliff,
and i'm contemplating over
jumping or not,
because before, the others
have only let me crash
and never thought of catching me.
i'm not sure if you are
the water or the ground.
i feel all of this only for you,
and it happens as fast as a blink.
and love, i blink a million times a day.
and it scares me to death every time.
Like crystal sand pebbles
Washed away from seashore
Like shooting stars in space
Propelled out of the night sky

Our beautiful black pearls
Young and innocent and ambitious
Full of life, full of tomorrow
Were stolen away in daylight
Away from unnatural habitats
Away from unsafe clusters
Away from our sleepy watchful eyes
Loosing their buoyancy
To the same fearsome monsters
That have plagued the land much
Bursting balloons at parties
Bringing mayhem as they visit
Making our warriors look childish
Forcing help from the world over.

The sun has gone to sleep
The moon has loomed too long
But to hope, we will cling
Till we find our lost pebbles…


© Raphael Uzor
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