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i planted forget-me-nots
to commemorate the loss
of my first love,
the rock to my moss.

© Matthew Harlovic
How old is our love
Has it been years?
How many?
Two?
Or two thousand.
I’ve known you across
A hundred lifetimes.
As a different person,
But my love is unchanging.
My soul
Will forever search for yours.
Over and over
We will fall in love.
Only we aren’t really falling
For we have been in love
For two thousand years.
he only thinks you're
pretty when you cry
when the aching
vulnerabilities sting
like red welts along
cheeks that are
white as teeth
only then are you pretty,
when the red blood
tears fall like soldiers in
the war of peace and
he kisses the place the
bullet exits
he promises he will
still love you as the lion
that murders the lamb
when the sky bleeds,
crimson echoes down
mountains of death
his viper hands
snake round your
hips and you just
don't mind, you just
don't mind anymore
© copyright
when I first saw you, the wind howled your name like a chilling whisper that sent shivers and galaxies of goosebumps up my spine and down my back

the waves transitioned their melody and began to play a calmer tune, harmonizing with the gentle easy inhales and exhales your lungs produced

my heart whispered you were the one, while a rush of nerves flowed through my blood; a swarm of butterflies took flight in my belly as our eyes met and we became locked in a state that couldn't be undone
for my soulmate
 May 2016 Rachel Keating
ryn
This feeling...
Heavy...
Like a wreath bearing down my neck.
Every fibre in me seem to be at loggerheads.

My heart...
Pounding.
Each beat is a hammer
sledging away at my saneness.

My breaths...
Premature and short.
Inconsistent.
I respire full but with punctured lungs.
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