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 May 2015 rj hornback
collin
i would say i felt in my soul
your words like a loaded gun
but i am a ginger..i don't have one
You're one in a billion and i know all seven of you.
One of them is me,
one of them is you,
the rest are scattered amongst these other kindred spirits that have found a home in each other.
In basements.
On the beach.
Fireside.
In each other's hearts.
In each other's arms.

Some of the yous work by feeling too much.
Some of us work by thinking too much.
We all come to the same misguided conclusions

So now until the end of whatever amount of time we have together
we sit, us seven, in our circle and do whatever it is we do.
Circling the drain, circling the letters on the multiple choices of life.
I hear guessing c's turns out alright
I, Jack Gladstone (hereafter referred to as i),

Being of at least some form of mind and body write the contents of my day.

Set the scene:

It’s cold, it’s the winter and it’s cold.

It’s cold outside, it’s cold inside unless, of course, you’re wearing a sweater.

If you’re wearing a sweater you are just precisely over the border of Toowarmopolis

(population: i).

Int. an oddly nice community college library,

excellent when you consider the town it is in is occasionally the **** capital of Iowa (Ottumwa).

The main contender is nearby and is actually the other main campus for this said college (Centerville).

Coincidence? Is Indian Hills based on **** money? Is the administration a cartel?

To answer these questions in order: yes, doubtful, and of the textbook variety alone.

i sit with the courtesy headphones on listening to the Shins.

i, obviously, work on poetry assignments.

i work on my computer class.

Office is not as i remember it. It’s changed. It’s different. What means what?

i panic.

i realize it’s silly to panic.

i panic anyway.

i remind myself it is silly to panic.

i regain my composure. No one noticed.

i think.

i miss toolbars. i miss clippy. i miss words instead of symbols.

Is this what being old is like?

I’m far too young for that.

If this is me now what will i be like when I’m elderly?

Living in a world of holograms, infocubes, the wikimplant.

i lied about regaining composure before. i do that sometimes, lying i mean.
I'd give up my left arm to always be right beside her. My right arm for her to know she's what I have left and both arms to be able to hug her when's she away. I just don't think I have enough to give to get the courage to tell her when she's here.
she is attired
in colors of glee
that lift the spirits
so mirthfully
she is the perfumery
of a Parisian park
her florid air
makes for the tones
of a singing lark
tis a pleasantry
to have her
company
You ask me why I’m dancing
You thought me to be insane
Could you not hear the music?
Or was it only in my *brain?
"and those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."
I've decided to write to you.
It's a little too late after all that we've been through.
But I saw you the other day.
I left immediately. Didn't think I had anything left to say.
I ran in to you actually.
I know how you like everything stated factually.
well,
I'm still high from the smoke you breathed on me.
It's not the regular Buzz.
It feels more like I'm going to die.
Because, Because.. I don't know why.
All I know for sure is that lipstick shade of yours,
Looks more like blood has stained your lips.
Like you drank blood for breakfast in small, lady-like sips.
But you looked beautiful, like an actress who through away the scripts.
Oh My Stars, you were Gorgeous.
Even with your scars that always made you resemble a hot mess.
But not that night, In that skimpy, emerald dress.
You were Beautiful in a way that was dangerous.
And It hurts me now, That you couldn't love me less.
honestly, I'm sorry for mistaking you as a Maiden In Distress.
You didn't want a fairy tale.
You're the princess who denies the prince
and falls in love with the dragon who's meant to be slayed.
In the end , I guess I was the prince who just got played.
And you wound up with Dragon's breath.
which I guess, explains how inside of me, you started a flame.
But I was stupid and left, Now you have your dragon
and we'll never be the same.
I'm sorry this makes no sense, It's all over the place.
I have to write it before I'm sober.
I mean, since when are you a smoker?
With this high, every time I close my eyes I still see your glowing face.
I don't want this to be over.
I want to taste your ****** lips.
Maybe I'm not a prince
love me.
Baby, I'm an ogre

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Once again from a male's perspective.
Not my best piece, sorry
When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
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