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mûre Mar 2015
I once had laugh lines
now eroded by rivers
what grows in a flood?
Hung up.
mûre Mar 2015
You were a nomad in all things
and every time you'd roll your caravan to town
holding a backpack and beating your drum
you'd reach out your hand
which could grip like electricity
so we'd set out together
us gypsy lovers
like birds that chase each other on the wind
and we'd **** the world with our charm
intoxicate with our savoir-faire
until the seasons changed
and you realized that howling at the moon
was a one man job
you bit and you scratched until
wailing, I threw you back into the wild
where you could have it all
your solitude and
your precious moon.
Ah, grief changes like seasons. The bitterness has arrived, n'est pas?
mûre Mar 2015
My heart went out like a star
****** in like a breath, laid down in the dark
I cannot see well these days, or far
except the flicker of the tiniest pilot light-
your spark.
Remind me remind me remind me remind me.
mûre Feb 2015
I said it, because it felt so nice to say and
because I can say it very well
-in the moment I meant it
but it's a bitter familiar spell
I've memorized the phonetic stitches the
spacing that knits a magic fleece that
when draped over the shoulders of the mightiest
turns them back to boys, gives full release
the belief
that love, real love, can be-

I can teach any man to fall in love with love...
just not in love with me.
mûre Jan 2015
when my hurt became audible
you protested with your history
I know only what I've known
and you begged me to be the bigger person
and so I was.

And so you grabbed one end of me
and I grabbed the other
and we pulled until taut, until
I was enormous, stretched
and distorted
like a lost giant or
A firefighter's trampoline-

my highest purpose became
to break your fall

and so I did

and so I did

and so I did
the words are finally starting to come
mûre Jan 2015
He taught me the pleasure of discipline,
and he taught me the discipline of pleasure
and though they were as different as winter and spring
they both loved me at my worst
opened their hearts like shoeboxes for a broken bird
craved and cradled the gentle fragility I was
their bruised rose, sweet and imperilled-
My loves, my loves!

Could you have ever loved me at my best?
Not a day goes by that I am not grateful. It pains me to know your only memories of us are of such a dark time.
mûre Jan 2015
a bleeding heart
draws all the sharks
once called, they come
and don't depart
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