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some believe in the deity
others in the sanctity of self
I think poetry is a religion
a soul unto itself
not a god
but close
and I seek her his its
calming words
wisdom
to get on my knees
and worship
every night
alone
here
in my sanctuary
like any
true believer
Is anyone Happy anymore?

Did they teach us how in the class rooms?

where we learned to be cruel

and pick at the open sores

and find the chinks in the armor...

Where we learned about love

and how it makes you weak

and we learned about Joy

and where it comes from.

Dominance and Praise, and adults who tell us we are

special.

And don't forget. to waste your time

filling all the gaps in your mind.

and schedule in success. But not too much.

and collect wealth until your mansion stands tall

and casts shadows on the green grass

and wonder if you missed the class

on how to be happiest
these shallow glimpses we share
as days grow long
the scattered thoughts swirl and bury themselves
in crevices of this old house
to be re-awakened perhaps
when we are many years gone
what can we salvage of this eternal bond
while the Sun buries itself behind the Oak
that we've watched grow from the kitchen window
since the days when our hair was thick and dark
and the smell of fresh cut wood was present
what words can I say to bring tears to your eyes
tears that would come from but a glimpse
that shouted my fervent love
we are captives of our timeless, undying, unwavering hearts
yet all that remains of this diminishing soul
would disperse like the final slivers of light
should I lose you
3 generations of dust gathered
on a groove outside my
window,
breeze licks hair licks salt to nose
are we all not
here but to suffer
in our own forgetful minds

This loneliness and sunny languor
is a mirage
so big I cannot fathom
it, nor can I remember
my sadness's Name
i fixed the error, but it trended oops
letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones,
and your name is Soul
i struggle a ton with full length poems but thank you all for reading

edit: thank you, sexywiggle, for lighting this poem up

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