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  Apr 2018 PM
Krista DelleFemine
Thank you
So insignificant when it's said
And completely
Significant when it's not
  Apr 2018 PM
marysepithet
it is bitter in this retreat,
to share a bunker of ones past,
it is not that I am with desperation,
but rather that I feel my wings have been firmly clipped

though, I stay here frightened,
thinking what if I become cocooned and stranded? will I only ever remain stagnant, still?
in an oleifera spinning, a chrysalis left to decay

is this the way that they intended it?
rather to not have my wings attached to me,
but rip them away from the bones in my back so that I cannot fly again?

I do not know if I will ever fly again
PM Apr 2018
"When the going gets tough, the tough get going" they said.
Well that's not true, cause some left even before the going got tough, and took a different path from the thorn-filled one I limpingly led.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth" they admonished.
This, was also a false tale. I only realised the mistake,
when I lay on the ground, reeling from its kick, alone and astonished.

Because, you see, as I was trying to explain to 'them' by shouting myself hoarse,
there is such a thing as a Trojan horse.
PM Apr 2018
I'm getting tired of guessing who you may be,
craning my neck in every crowd, hoping it is you that I see,
so could you do me a favour - as soon as I count one, two, three,
come out of my dreams and into my view, when you're free?
PM Apr 2018
We sat there facing each other,
as the sun rays fell across the room in slits through the blinds.     
We were connected by a mysterious tether,
a smile playing on our lips and tranquility tresspassing in our minds.

Too shy to speak and too afraid to break the melodious silence,
we sat there, wringing our hands and stealing the odd glance.
Then, an idea shined together on both of us and broke the trance.

We picked up our pens and began to write,
Cause that was the only way we knew,
to open up and 'bare our soul' - so to cite...
A bit different from what I usually write, but when inspirations strikes - you must yield to the will of the pen and the page! :)
  Apr 2018 PM
Eleanor Sinclair
I met a friend today
His name was Death
He smiled big with pure white teeth
And minty fresh breath
I asked him what he did for a living
Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes
He did the opposite of giving
What did that mean?
But the closer I got to Death
The better I understood his scheme
In his sharp black suit he won me over
I felt an irresistible draw
Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover
He convinced me of the beauty in the night
That when the moon was hidden from view
There was nothing better than the lack of light
He led me from my lust for life
Sang to me in my sleep
Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife
I tried to pull away from my newly found friend
But his choke hold was so tight
On him I started to depend
The world could see me deteriorate into nothing
He held me harder and closer
With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing
Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb
The emotions drifted with my vitality
I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum
The more time you spend with a person
The more you become like them
I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen
Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog
I cared so deeply for him
My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog
I came to terms with my life long trap
Death circled like a satellite around my position
No matter where I went he found my place on the map
Eventually I succame to this fate
Despite his control
Death, I could not hate
I loved him too dearly to notice the signs
I couldn't think clearly
His presence was odious and it wasn't benign
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