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Jun 2014
The seeds are pressed gently into their crevices
Like hair follicles on my skin
Skin so tender
Turns so red
When juice leaks down
Sweet and bitter all at once.

Sweet
Because I heard only children cry
When they scratch their knees
Or mommy dropped them off at day care.
Yes, I have been there.

Bitter
Because I heard only children cry
Yet the space between my eyes
Carries a bridge between two worlds
That will never seem to collide.

I have reached the tender green top
My reminder of the earthly wonder
Of peace
Even in tumultuous minds.
I long to run my fingers through the grass
And listen to the sweet nothings the wind whispers
In my ear.

Sweet nothings leave bitter somethings far from near.
Mariya Timkovsky
Written by
Mariya Timkovsky
624
   Joel A Doetsch
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