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My niece

Hugging me tighter

Than usual;



Words spill

On my heart

Making a mess

My mind

Will not erase;



Kissing me sweet

Clenching my fists;



The big things

Rest on that microscopic grin

On the right corner

Of my lips --



That is where you lie,

In the space between

My lines.
Nicole Bataclan Oct 2018
I let him in
Through the back door

He alone
Holds the password.

Seldom knocks
But often enough;

Through the tiny peephole
Of the unresolved,

I take the chain
Off the door.

I keep my skirt
While he unbuttons my heart

That door policy is rough
But he earns my trust;

That love hurts
'Til a gentle push.

Unlock
The secrets to my core;

The fissure
Of pleasure

For a full-frontal
Of my soul.

He sneaks
In the back door

Only he knows
The password;

No one is welcome
But one.
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2018
She was,
She used to be,

I still startle

There will no longer be
Any new memories.

I look up
When the skies cry
When there is not a cloud in sight

I talk about her in the past tense now.

Eye on my arm
God squeezes my heart,

I remember the feel
Of toying with her
Sagging skin
’Til mine ages,
I will beam at my ink.

I talk about her in the past tense now.

On nights I cry,
On fine nights
I burst with life,

She cradles my heart.
Nicole Bataclan Jul 2018
On the other side
The truth lies
On the other side
Truth
Lives in plain sight.

Blinded by the sun
My five Euro shades
Unveil what I shun
I am paying
A king's ransom.

'Til worlds collide
'Til I crossed to the other side
He never lied,
Lived another truth
By my side.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2018
Your actions echo love,
My rendition of it;
Why don’t they linger
Like words will.

Your actions parade love
That I applaud;
Why can I not trust them
Unless I have it in print.

I write
Poems of love
For a man of few words.

I feel
Acts of love
For a writer, is it not enough.
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2018
Monday has a bad reputation


Before dawn,
Already frowned upon.
A lousy onset
Before it even started.


Monday has a bad reputation
I am dragging myself out of bed


When I should be clenching my fists,
Going in for the ****.


The titillating hope of the beginning
The victory dance when one wins
You gave me Friday this morning.


I have been in love with you
Since that first night
I laid eyes on you;


Still turning it around
Eight years in.


You and I,
An empty bar,

Rewriting Monday's light.
Nicole Bataclan May 2018
The wipes do not work
My eyeliner, smudged;
Words at war
Words when calm.

The Einstein hair
Bad morning breath;
A shadow of a smile
You standing against the light.

Ravaged by tragedy
Fresh bread from the bakery;
I lean in
For my forehead kiss.

Last night at war
The morning calm
–  Coffee is ready
Did you sleep on it?
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