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 Aug 2014 Noel
Jackeline Chacon
Then those birds stood watching
          For she was next prey

They flew around her thoughts
          In a world so grey

They scattered her rotting flesh
          Maggots infested

The vultures began to take feast
           Laying in nested

Taking every sip of sweet blood
           In her head deep

Devouring the dead memories
            Within her sleep
 Aug 2014 Noel
Dolores L Day
Words are ****.
They make me want to rip a pillow with my teeth
Or marinate in a sensuous heat.
Where you'll be, sitting there.
Waiting to kiss my spine and touch my hair.
Tell me regaling tales of what you think.
Of what is rational or obsolete.
Worlds like Suggestive, Sarcastic.
Forlorn
and Bombastic.
Makes my skin melt and heart palpitate.
I will no longer settle for those who are adequate.
I need substance. I need someone (you) to say.
That you're enamored and beg me to stay.
I want that learned passion that only we
could portray.
Vocabulary lists are almost as good as ****.

...almost.

— The End —