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 Sep 2024 Valentine
Viktoriia
everything goes if we just let it,
even our universe.
when the light at the edge of it dies out,
as if watching a guillotine strike down,
and a glimpse of a memory, elsewhere,
so far from all we've ever known,
feels like home.
but the dawn is already bleeding red
and the answers have all but disappeared,
and this fleeting moment is all we have
before the last shadow falls;
everything goes.
 Sep 2024 Valentine
Olivia
Untitled
 Sep 2024 Valentine
Olivia
Dawn is blazing
the world is still
this is
the time before times.
Watch the sun kiss
the moon goodbye.
 Sep 2024 Valentine
PuellaGratiae
Rain falls when
The clouds get heavy. I
Walk with my umbrella, which the wind turned
Inside out. Droplets fall around
My head, and I
Remember when I was a child and got
To play in the puddles. Then I became sick
And cuddled in blankets. Mother puts a hand to
My forehead and smiles at my
Sneeze. I drink hot soup, which warms my stomach.
Now I wetly plod along, and
My soul smiles as I
Recall the rubber ball that I threw
So high it seemed to touch the rainbow that arced down.
 Sep 2024 Valentine
Prevost
As I waddle through the heat
I wish for knees from which to pray
The sun, the progenitor of this fruition
Golden we harvest

The hills whisper an ancient call
I grasp the earth between my fingers
Here the dirt and I are one
I cannot let go of her

The sheaves surrender to the sickle
The soul is sown
The soul is harvested
Ancient mouths rejoice
So darling,
In the moments
You turn around
And catch me staring at you
Wide eyed,
Know that I’m drinking you up.
Carefully filing everything you do in my memory
So I can pull it out
On lonely walks in the park and down the street,
So I can think of you
On cold nights laying in bed.
Because it won’t last,
But I want to remember
Every second.
 Sep 2024 Valentine
Imaan Asif
and in the moment of silence,
i search for my forsaken voice,
buried somewhere,
far and adrift,
under the summit of sufferings,
the rivers of rage,
under trampled dreams,
under the mottled page,
the voice so aloof,
i have forgotten it so well,
the past of calamity,
only if i had a voice; i could tell
September rain  
falling grey on Monday faces
washes out the dusty traces
of August in the air,
coffee mug memories
warm and serene,
muse on the summer it might have been
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