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 Aug 2023 Fayre
Ackerrman
Do not let the silence fool you,
The screams are stifled, through and through.

The gentle glint is in their eyes,
Soft smiles grin in wild surprise,
Though the man pretends to sleep,
He hears the words and faintly weeps.

When you walk in the empty hall,
There's no jubilant footfall,
Of yesteryears' purple vigour,
Just vibrant souls that you ignore.

Do not let the silence fool you,
The screams are stifled through.
Do not let the silence pacify,
There is no rest, waiting to die.
My experience visiting a family member for the last time in her care home.
 Aug 2023 Fayre
I S A A C
molted
 Aug 2023 Fayre
I S A A C
just molted
new body still sensitive
your fingers brushed through my hair
my perspective is questioning
birds eye view to warped perception
confidence then second guessing
snow angels in the backyard
tears in the diary
smoke joints in the backyard
fears feel so fiery
your fingers traced my cracked heart
my fingers drew you and your scars
i just molted
new heart still sensitive
 Jun 2021 Fayre
Jason Drury
A book
 Jun 2021 Fayre
Jason Drury
If I gave you my soul,
would you read each page?
Scribble notes of interest
and know me.
Would you take the time,
to help tape the seams?
Would you mend,
the fragility of my soul?
It tears and rips,
easily, emotionally.
 Jun 2021 Fayre
-df
you sit with me in my silence.
and that means more to me
than
roses and chocolate.
written by d.f.
instagram.com/thegatheringofdaisies
 Jun 2021 Fayre
Max
Falling
 Jun 2021 Fayre
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 Jun 2021 Fayre
haysia
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
"
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
 Jun 2021 Fayre
q
belief in poetry
 Jun 2021 Fayre
q
i do not believe in god
but i do believe in poetry
and for me
maybe poetry is prayer
and the universe
is an unwavering ear
in the shape of a god
 Jun 2021 Fayre
sandra wyllie
on the canvas. I was
wet and dripping like a feral
kitten. My creator didn’t lay me
out in the sun. And so, my colors

run. The red and blues
look purple. The mother’s milk
curdled. Throwing me up as *****. And so,
I left a stain. Beaten by the brush

I lost my sense of touch. Now
I’m oily. I’m a spill in a broken
frame. I hang on the wall as
a flower. None admire me. But I haven’t
nerves to leave.
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