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 Mar 2018 Pamela A Moffatt
SassyJ
Somedays I wrote words
but letters slipped away
lost beyond my grip
reaching and fetching

Somedays I wrote words
then shoved them away
uncased under the bed
searching and vexing

Somedays I wrote words
letting emotions prevail
as the cord strangled  
levelling and curling

Somedays I wrote words
presented with numbers
joints of joy and peace
trespassing and pleading

Somedays I wrote words
as a moniker hiding phases
a face on my lost arms
materialising, internalising

Somedays I wrote words
of a deep reflective past
and a sickening existence
passing days, pressing mazes

Today I don't want to hide
neither compartmentalise
nor capitalise the future
It's all the now, the me
 Mar 2018 Pamela A Moffatt
SassyJ
There was a time that I was unfilled
searched and dropped in an ocean*
in the deep water the last hope lost
bombs exploded and shells bursted
the whole of me was decanted
a remnant that seems muted
but one that's alive and lasting

There was a time that I was waiting
to be seen, loved, deserved and adored
like the lentil sat in the water to sprout
and the state withered, lowly swallowed
the brokenness of it ached, stakes gone
the bets were a loss drained on the grounds
as the escalator crept it's way up

There is moment in the present day
where the awoken me is a desire
a goal to believe within my depths
touching the instincts and procures
not hurt and not wanting to believe
neither relying on the adoration to sate
*as the state of lone licked all the tears
Your hair flows like wine
Down your body
Sweeter than grapes
And once again
I'm drunk on
The memories
Of you
You are a novel
gathering dust on my shelf
but not because I don’t want to read
but because I’m afraid
to turn the page,
afraid of how you’ll end
 Jan 2018 Pamela A Moffatt
Born
5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living
I appreciate every single one of you for making this journey possible. In good, bad and worst I poured out my heart to you guys and you showed me nothing but love. Thank you
 Dec 2017 Pamela A Moffatt
Jay
Damaged people love you like a crime scene
Before any crime had been committed
They kept their running shoes right next to their souls every night
One eye opened in case something changed whilst they were asleep

Damaged people love in the most broken way
Damaged people love in the most gentle way
Damaged people do not love
Damaged people love too much

Their backs are always too tense, too tight
Made this way from carrying too many broken things
Because we all know broken things are the heaviest
Just look the weight of a broken heart

Damaged people will love that too
Damaged people love broken things
Because they remind them of themselves

Damaged people take broken things
And love them to the end
Trying to find that one broken thing
That will fit their cracks.

Damaged people love so well

They love like this because they have already seen Hell
And they know that every evil demon
Was once an angel before they fell.
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