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  Aug 2015 A Wegner
Sam Lichauco
Waiting on that someone,
I have yet to see.
In times unexpected,
For both you and me.

You'll come through my window,
And break out into song,
You'll stop me on the street,
Say "I've known it all along!"

It's you, it's you,
I see you've taken the time
Through goose chases and mistakes of
Songs gone wrong in rhyme.

I am done with projects
And you, with love restricted
So will our paths cross finally
To a road so unconflicted.
A Wegner Aug 2015
Your wild blue eyes
A mystery to me,
Haunt me in my dreams,
I never want to leave
Taunt me as they glisten,
Shine and reflect the light
I get lost in moving tides
Like swimming in the sea at night
Why do I feel so alone
When I look into your soul?
Maybe there's more to discover
In your lonesome uncharted waters
Anything you share with me
I'd be gentle, I wouldn't chide
I can't help but notice the depths
When I look into your eyes
Blue eyes and oceans
Inspired by actor Max Thieriot <3
  Aug 2015 A Wegner
SG Holter
Vicious Monday.
Bones ache.
Heart barely bothers to
Beat.

Leave the bedroom window
Open for us.
I'm coming home to
Retreat,

Let's just eat, and find
Comfort in not caring if
We nap the afternoon
Away.

I want passive dreams
Of daytime intensity.
Bed and woman of the same
Soft density.

Nap. Little
Night between nighttimes.
Little rest between
Responsibilities.

Sometimes there is just
Too much day
In a
Day.
  Aug 2015 A Wegner
Sam Lichauco
What is it about the rain that makes us feel so
Limited?
Is it the water that seems to enclose on us
Wherever we may step?
Or how every living thing drops in solidarity with
The rain that falls on the pavement?

But that afternoon
We were liberated
By the art of
Racing in the rain.

What is it about running that makes us feel so
Limitless?
Was it the length of our strides,
Or the thrill of the wind?
As it rushes through our bodies as we push on
Against it, with it?

I do not recall how we got there
But we were in the middle of it
We were running, oh yes,
We were running
Forgetting in the first place
Why we were running.

I do not recall who started racing who
Was it I racing you?
Or you racing me?
Or were we simply racing each drop
That fell from the boundless sky?

The movement felt like years,
The movement felt like bliss,
The flashes came in shades of blue,
My favorite.

And when my knees began to buckle
Under the weight of the rain
You carried me on your shoulders
As we raced against the rain.
  Aug 2015 A Wegner
Maggie Emmett
Lady Macbeth washed her hands
cleaner than Pontius Pilate
with a new improved, bio-enzyme
oxy-bursting, 99.9% germ-scouring
recommended by dermato-logists
scented with rose attar
oils from Arabia
and spermaceti soothing
unguents from long dead whales.

She’s going to the nail bar
for a manicure and application
of semi-permanent, diamond-
tipped, acrylic base-coated
in red blood enamel.

She’ll scratch
and etch rich tattoos
on her husband’s back
with every ******, he will shudder
with pain and delight
He’ll soon forget long, dark nights
bewitched by ghosts and ambition.

© M.L. Emmett
Alternate views of Literature
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