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Depths of despair
Hang thick in the air
Almost daring me to care
And step into it's crosshair
Not realizing I'm aware
I've lived that nightmare
Been caught up in that snare
Somehow pushed past the warfare
Came through worse for wear
But it no longer has power
Over someone who can't care
Forcing it to find it's next victim elsewhere

©2024
We can't change people who they are,
But we can accept them as they are,
By being loving,kind and patient.
Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day,
One that makes the readers
Remember the tortured poets
That lies in some forgotten corners
Laced with delicate cob webs

Maybe I'll write a pretty poem one day,
One that  whispers warm embraces
to some hearts frozen somewhere
Chilling.
In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)
I suppose I'll be in a Nursing Home one day
  drooling all over myself
And still plotting revenge on this world for
  having wronged me so,
Or maybe I might just be dozing, probably
  having another nightmare
I might find myself on a train somewhere and the conductor he suddenly
  announces
"Next stop Dementia City
After that it's Alzheimersville"
I'll awake with a start
And then...then I'll see her... this beautiful
  vision just walking in
Elderly like myself but still so ladylike
Still so lithe and graceful
I'll tell my Nurse to quickly get my false teeth
And my good wig
And my walking frame
And to give me a couple of those heart tablets
I'd think to myself "I knew she'd come... one
  day"
It'd be one last chance for Love... one last dash for Love.

So moving slowly but determinedly across
  the floor toward her
I'd probably get a pain midway
And then keel over
She'd not see me, she'd have her back turned
  to me
The Nurses they'd be showing her to her
  room
She'd be walking away
I'd try to call out but the words they'd get all
  garbled and stuck in my throat
I'd try to reach out to her... reach out like
  she's some mirage in the desert
My last gasp... my last gasp for Love
But...too late...
Too late, the Hero.
A bittersweet bit of fun.
Sunrise was just a red line in the inky void, as Lisa and I reached the harbor decking stairs,
but at once, the brazen slash began widening, like a silent, slow motion explosion,  
thin, smoky wisps of cloud, like flammable tissue, prismed the stage light ignition.

bee-de-deep my phone chirped. It was Peter (my bf).
“Hey you,” I pronounced, as Lisa took off her left sneaker and shook it, upside-down.  
“How’s the harbor?” Peter asked. I glanced at my watch, it was 5:32 am in New Haven.
Peter must be at lunch (in Geneva) and tracking our morning run with the ‘Find My’ app.
“Beautiful,” I pronounced, “they’re really putting on a show.”
Of course, I meant the universe, the sun, the turns who were already at work, and Long Island Sound.
The gulls, perched on whatever, and grousing at each other, obviously haven’t had their coffee.
I read that AI had decoded bird talk and on a wire, they chittered, “Move over, you’re in my space.”

“Just wanted to say good morning,” Peter confessed, “Good Morning.”
“Good morning,” I wished back, “gotta go,” I replied, Lisa had finished de-pebbling her shoe.
“Yep,” Peter agreed, “Seee ya,” he quipped. “See ya,” I chuckled, smiling.
My watch asked, in my Air Podded ears, “Have you finished your workout?” because I was motionless.
I pressed the crown of my watch and slid the phone back in my pocket, our jogg’s only half done.

We began our harbor exodus, by turning our backs to the haven. It was already beginning to busy with boats.
We slipped on our hats and protective, polarized sunglasses as we began to run directly into the blazing sun.
.
.
Songs for this:
Sail on Sailor by the Beach Boys
Dancing in the moonlight by Toploader
Cold Heart - PNAU Remix by Elton John, Dua Lipa, PNAU
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Exodus: a departure or in the bible, a mass emigration situation.
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