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 May 2013 Rosaline Moray
sara s
and i've come to realize
that all the things your
body requires
are secret and
not mine to
ponder

but when you kiss me,
i feel drunk
Me, I play the piano
said one
me, I play the violin
said another
me the harp, me the banjo
me the cello
me the bagpipes, me the flute
and me, a rattle.
And they talked talked
talked about what they played.
No music was heard
everyone talked
talked talked
and no one played
but in a corner one man remained silent:
"And you, Sir, who remain silent and say nothing,
what instrument do you play?"
the musicians asked him.
"Me, I play the barrel *****
and I also play the knife,"
said the man who until now
had said absolutely nothing
and then he advanced knife in hand
and killed all the musicians
and played the barrel *****
and his music was so true
and so lively and so pretty
that the daughter of the house’s owner
came out from under the piano
where she lay bored to sleep
and said:
"Me, I played hoop
ball, chase
I played hopscotch
I played with a pail
I played with a shovel
I played house
I played tag
I played with my dolls
I played with a parasol
I played with my little brother
with my little sister
I played cops
and robbers
but that’s over over over
I want to play assassin
I want to play the barrel *****."
And the man took the little girl by the hand
and they went into towns
into houses, into gardens
and killed as many people as possible
after which they married
and had many children.
But
the oldest learned piano
the second, violin
the third, harp
the fourth, the rattle
the fifth, cello
and they all took to talking talking
talking talking talking
so that no more music was heard
and all was set to begin again!
My Grandma had a purse shaped like a cobbler.
It was Blackberry and soap with a good dose of thyme.
She kept it close to her side, but behind her
so as not to impede her graceful march.
At some point the original strap had been lost
and replaced with a cherry red confection
that swirled around her arm and latched
onto the top crust that is always the most crunchy.
A few buttons were picked up along the way
and dotted the top layer like ladybugs dancing.
The zipper was never fully shut and there was often
a receipt sticking out, or perhaps her pink comb
that waggled in the air like a tongue in delight.
It wasn’t a big purse; just enough to satisfy
a healthy craving but big enough to care
were you not to see it present at dinner.

I have almost forgotten the healthy craving,
the smell of Blackberries, and why the ladybugs
should ever want to dance.
I fell in love with a young man so perfect he only lived in my dreams.
I became consumed by him.
The dimple on his left cheek, the patch of blue in his green eyes.
Sleeping my life away, hour by hour.
Awakening only to eat and yet it was still too much time wasted.
Too much time spent not with my young man.
So, one night he told me where he had been buried, underneath an enormous birch tree, far to the west he said.
I traveled to the enormous birch tree, far to the west and prepared myself.
I peeled away the skin on my wrists, ankles and throat and before I slipped into my beloved world of unconsciousness, I tied myself to the enormous birch tree.
With each blink I felt the tree absorbing my blood.
I opened my eyes to see the young man in front of me.
He said, "Well done." as he pulled my heart from my cold chest and placed it into his.
He kissed my cheeks and whispered into my ear,
"This, is what love feels like." and walked away.
The keys moved deliberately,
Signing its goodbye in a final
Soaring chord.
Pulling the heartstrings that
Resonated deep inside,
Shivering at the slightest touch.
It closes its eyes and gives a last sigh,
Reminiscing of when Beethoven and Mozart
Brought it to life, giving it meaning to sing.
The stars trembled as each broken note
Joined the skies.  
The pedal pumps furiously, gasping
For air, a voice, a last
Word to the world.
The universe listens to the last struggling
Breaths, the dry sobs that put the
Melancholy rhythm of rain,
To the dying heart of an old creature that has lived
Too long.
Silence.
I'm only 12, but be as harsh and explicit as you find necessary, I don't mind. I just really need constructive criticism to build upon my work. Thank you.
dream away my unwilling friend
for love so deep
you're dying to see
the bed and sheets
your curled toes
moaning with urgency
whispering i love you's
because you never know when death is near
the end could be tomorrow
 May 2013 Rosaline Moray
Kate
I wanted your innocence
as ****** up as that seems
I wanted to peel back the veil
and show you all that love could be
I wanted to have you all to myself
crisp and new and clean
 May 2013 Rosaline Moray
Kate
Time
 May 2013 Rosaline Moray
Kate
Desperate I tried to keep you
while the time ran down to my feet
hopeless I raged
I fought
how I cried

by time stops for no man
let alone me
so soon you were gone
all we were
is now
a memory
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