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 Oct 2015 Mike lowe
Romali Arora
Someday when you sit alone,
Looking back at memories, forlorn
You will realize what it is
To be standing when your other half is already gone

You will know what it is
To write letters pondering all your feelings
But when they go unreplied, unread
You will know how it makes you sad

You will feel the pain
When night turns to morning
And morning to nights
When your calls go unanswered
And when texts fetch no replies

When your tears go in vain
When your heart aches so much
That you physically feel the pain

When breathing turns to gasps
When you wake up to mornings, pillow-stained

Not forgetting what you’ll feel
When you’ll wait for hours
Just to catch my glimpse
And I’d be occupied
Just like you, right now are,
my love
While you look so longingly at the closed door
While you wait for me to come back
I’ll be happy then
In someone else’s arms
Who won my heart with a thousand efforts
When you were gone!
Someday you'll know what it is to have lost someone who's asked for nothing but your love.
 Oct 2015 Mike lowe
Sarah Oh
Put your hand on mine
Wrap your arms around me
Our love need not hurry
Because love should be free and easy

We don't need to worry
Our love is always simple
There's no need for a change
It's simple as it should be
 Oct 2015 Mike lowe
Sarah Spang
Unclasp your fingers
Your clenched fists
And know the release of
Giving in

Let him drift away
Let the ocean stand between you
As a testament
To the vast expanse
That exists there now.

Stop fighting the waves.
Stop braving the icy waters
Arm over arm
To reach him on the other side.

The water will always win.
And you never were much of a swimmer.
He's just a distant island now
Shrouded in fog
Somewhere over the horizon.

Rest now,
The fight is over.
Your mangled, frantic heart
Can slow
And begin another tempo
When it's no longer bleeding over
An unreachable coastline.
I suppose you could call me the epitome of destructive.

Number insides;

I am lighter fluid and absinthe.

All those whom I look forward to,

Perish at an age no older than 30.
Sunken deep by the crippling bones of creativity.
Why must creative convert to gloom?

Would you call yourself the poster child for anti-depressants?
When was the last time you held the shards in hand

and looked upon your perfect skin with tremors?

Just dying to let the living out.


Sit perched to the moon awaiting a calling

that came in a figure of an *******.

Sometimes I speak to you of my troubles

Just to know you’ll get off my back.


Do you know if it wasn’t for your slippery hands
trying to mumble their way through steel caps

I might of died that night?
Inches away from the edge
you crudely pointed at your own meter
that ticked against the pavement
awaiting pennies to be dropped.

You’d offer your calling card of cannabis and magic fingers,
line the body with your palm
and hold it against the skin.

Tell me I was beautiful just until the hand hit 10

and you’d say
I was the epitome of destructive.
An old poem about an old flame.
Tessa Calogaras 2015
 Oct 2015 Mike lowe
Kendall Rose
.
ink bleeds dry in my veins
the words coiled around my tongue lie still for a moment
the quiet hush of happiness settles in my lungs
and i find myself aching to reach inside of my chest and break my heart again until it remembers what it is to bleed.
there is no beautiful metaphor for the way joy feels coiled beneath your ribs
there is no sonnets written about the steady rhythm of life working itself out again.
i dont beg for his lips on mine anymore
i beg for his fingers digging into my neck
and his cigarette smoke to linger in my hair and stain me for months after.
im no longer yearning to be complete
but im ripping out my stitches and cracking healed bones again
scrambling to find whatever i lost inside of myself.
Saturday night i lay broken on the bathroom tiles
my heart barely fluttering
my eyes too heavy to hold open.
words spilled from my wrists onto pages and i cried out everything i ever felt for you.
sunday morning i woke up in bed again
and i havent felt that way since
blank pages blank mind blank heart
who knew happiness would make me feel so empty
 Oct 2015 Mike lowe
Wednesday
What happens when the narcissist
falls in love with the sociopath?
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