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  Nov 23 Maria Mitea
Emma
For it was not anger but sorrow—
At the Abandonment—laid bare—
The dandelion—blown to pieces—
Wishes scattered—everywhere.

She could hear their Thoughts—their Fears—
A chorus—soft—yet sharp—
She wished to hide inside herself—
A hollow—without a harp.

Self-medication’s quiet needle—
Addiction’s velvet glove—
She yearned for Home—but found illusion—
A mirage—far from Love.

She stared into the blank horizon—
Falling—farther still—
A call for asylum—ghostly scribes—
No cure for her ill will.

They stopped questioning the Overdose—
What happens—must occur—
We take precautions—but in the end—
The void—we will still endure.

He lied—his promises dissolving—
No Trust resides in Truth—
Sabotaged—her fragile Being—
An existence—gone uncouth.

The grace of a lone sparrow falters—
Circles—spiraling near—
Yet never reaching—centers hollow—
Maria Mitea Nov 23
Spreads sun atoms all over the place,
It feels like the planet will soon stop moving.
The wind, like a baby, is playing
                      -  is building staircases from leaves,
It spins them around, then rests.
Trows seeds in the air: oak nuts, mushrooms
and tears,
                and, like fainted lovers in the night,
Waits for a harvest of snowflakes
  Nov 22 Maria Mitea
Ken Pepiton
Sculpted faces,
aging drama queens,

all the world's stages, this
is after those, these depths
of despair, where no pieces fit,

Kintsugi, fractured flash bulb scene,

an instamatic moment, a Kodak memory.
Hollywood Blvd... just a photomatic meme function we can use... while imagining converting vhs to mp4, before it's more plastic in the sea.
You saved me and kept me, then denied me.

Spat on my grave while you whiled away, free from your guilt.

An egoistic, a gymnast of lies. Fireflies and your coffee-colored eyes.

My soft sobs echoed through the night as I was buried in the deepest quiet hollows of the earth, where no one could hold my hand and lift my body.

I can already taste the sweetness of the other side. God forbid me not to, but the only thing that replays in my head is the lips that made me religious. My beloved religion.

Seven minutes before my sapped breath, your face flashed a fond memory—a saccharine—yet draining facade of yours. Those minutes turned into long-showered hours; I pleaded with the grounds of the earth just to see those melancholic eyes that once captivated me.

If it’s meant to be, then it will be. Thereafter, the earth angered all the religions I once suffered—
you were my ill-fated haven.
I was just listening to this song and I wrote this piece according to what emotions I have felt while listening to it. Ethel Cain is known for her indie and gothic rock, she’s a really talented artist and her music is currently helping me sort out my pain and grief. :)

11/05/24

Song: Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain
Seeds scattered
gather the courage
to germinate, emerge
as fertile, verdant trees
of evergreen and birch,
breeze's tease and flirt
enough to render
Earth fractured–
shattered.

Underneath the dirt
remorse's corpse interred,
lurking thoughts linger,
yet something within me
still stirs and burns;
searching the surface
for touch, tender.

Heart murmurs
but not as
a murmuration of starlings depart,
more like crows murdered;
buzzards, vultures circling birds
conjured–
the curse unburied torture,
no dying words in final dirge
and yet it yearns
for yesterday's return.

Memories my mind blurs,
senses fervently usurped–
but time can never
be reversed,
this cistern's nature
gushing to a turbulent river,
water's surging,
turgid current, pure;
about to die of thirst,
this dam soon fills to burst,
my love i spill and purge
as i remember her.

I was an earlier version
of an imperfect person,
a scourge
of that I stand assured,
but this pain is
terminal,
permanent,
and the only cure
is her laughter,
rapture,
or feeling
fragile fingers,
shelter–
you certainly weren't the first heartbreak I've had
but **** it hurts the worst.
***** when you have a lot of pain and regrets with someone, would do anything to fix it just because you truly love them and what you had more than anything in this world, but youre just at two different places in your lives and the feelings arent mutual. And because all you want is their happiness you have to just let it go (even if all *you* want is them) cuz you also cant just stay around and let yourself get hurt either (when they dont even know if they want you at all)... guess that's just life tho 💔

And just a sidenote– murmuration refers to the way a flock of starlings flies around, look up pictures/videos if youve never seen it, it's really something. Also partly inspired by the song Beautiful Curse by Lost Dog Street Band.
My Doctor ordered me to exercise
So I now walk through my poems
Many a ghost I now do exorcise
I write poems to burn calories
While eating all sweets and savouries
I read poems to exercise
Enjoying words so sweet and savoury
Many years later, I’m still obese
Even after writing to burn my calories
My doctor now wants me
To step out of my comfort zone
So now from writing verse
To writing worse prose I do turn
All my effort just to burn calories
Not playing to the galleries
But for me and my calories
Without earning any salaries
Prolonging this causes calamities
All just to burn a few calories
Maria Mitea Nov 22
I read Zygmunt Bauman, but I think of the Aeneid and
                                                                  the seven years of wandering, and
the Nashua river that keeps flowing beside me, and the storm from last night, and
the tree blown down, which is still on the ground, lying  as if it was tired and went to sleep,
the only difference now is that the roots stand with their mouth opened up speaking with the clouds,
                                waiting for the rain, waiting for the night,
begging
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