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 Apr 2023 Nadine Peñaverde
Fig
i love the smell of warm skin
burying our heads in each other shoulders
feels so close
connected
this is as close as i can get to you
longing for a lover
desperate for touch
trace my back
My spine bends for you
I bend for you
you lean
mean
cuddle machine
i love cuddles.
Night has come,
and with it, the shadows
and the sorrowful moon.
I lie in bed and it's a little too silent.
I close my eyes, waiting for sleep,
but it always never comes.
You come to me in darkness
and I am reminded of a warmer time
so very far from where I ended up.
You are not here and neither am I,
at least the I that you remind me of
so very long ago, so very far from alone,
or maybe I always have been.
I don't know
how long I will miss you,
perhaps it will take as long
as I've wanted you:
an eternity.
It seems like you're on my mind
Your eyes that glow so bright
Your lips so plump and soft
Your hands so soft and smooth

Our memories together flashes
Through my very eyes
Vivid yet so clear
Happy yet so sad

Hidden feelings ruined me
Every fiber of my being
Calls for your presence
I just miss you so **** much
Dear god I miss you
and I dance to the blues
feeling sick all the while
my toes are anemic
there’s a frog in my throat
it’s all a bit wrong
and we dance to the blues
two left feet all the while
it doesn’t quite suit us
these bathroom tiles on the floor
the ballroom dancing to the blues
we don’t touch all the while
dear god I miss you
I haven’t seen you in weeks
it’s all a bit wrong
and all a bit blue.
'Ode to my sleeping love...', written early 2020, during third year of university
My love can be oceans deep
vast yet beautiful;

As its waves gently drenching the sand,
all I can imagine is the warmth of your hand
No words can comprehend how much I love you

That is why even after crossing the seven seas
I might find myself drowning
if you got tired of me
We as humans, yearn, want, and need
Only to find ourselves; lonely and full of greed
 Apr 2023 Nadine Peñaverde
Ricki
Kids are blowing bubbles in their lawn,
Sleepy hair—all messy— with pajamas on.
Yellow dandelions turn to grey.
They make wishes out of childs’ play.
As their seeds and pollen float away,
The sun is kissing freckles, tans, and burns.
Leaves are dressing trees, and flowers turn.
But suddenly it’s super, super hot.
Plants are drying out; their roots rot.
Firm plastic is so mushy that it’s bending.
Global warming is no longer impending.
Politicians and corporations act estranged
They pretend the climate hasn’t changed.
After all, why would they even care?
They won’t even live through the big scare.
Everyone and everything is melting.
The heat is excruciating and sweltering.
It's a much sweeter today
than yesterday indeed.
Radiant meadows are on fire
beneath the trees
indulging blue fairies'
summer bowl of sun shines
abundantly overflowing
lavishly enough to render in
every rose of humming bees.

Pop up to flowers and bouquets
maybe the song on the birds' lips:
Time is today to jump in
on a London summer clement scene!
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