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 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
PK Wakefield
"I can't sleep," she said her lips were and body went a forest to the very edge of the sea.
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
Aya Baker
It seems that
The only thing that warms me now
Is the scalding water
Of my showerhead.

My bones are all my sad endings and lost loves and destroyed galaxies soldified.

No hero's smile or requited love or photogenic nebula
Will ever do it for me.
Not any more, at least.

The muscle in my chest has rotten away to reveal cobwebs and a chill;
Even before the heart had gone to waste it had already been out of use
For a long time.
The veins and arteries once filled with life are now static,
Little tubes that serve no function.

My palms open and close-
Or, I think they do.
If my heart is gone, how have I lived on?
I assess the state of my chest cavity.
Oh.

I have not.
I am but a tangle of thoughts in my consciousness left to stew in limbo,
A fitting punishment of corporeal suffering
For the body that once held
Me.
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
Jay
Searching
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
Jay
Please
explore
me
I
implore
you.
I'm a different kind of lonely when you're not here
When everything I touch seems to miss you too
And we all just sit around in our collective grief

Books aren't supposed to miss people
My guess is that if books had feelings at all
Then really they would just want someone to pick
Them up and hold them

I can sympathise with books

If doors could talk they wouldn't ask where the
Hell we'd been when we got home late
They'd say that they just want to keep us safe and
Maybe try to keep out the cold

I wish I was still your door

My windows don't miss the times when you'd
Stand with one delicate hand on the glass and gaze
Outside in some quiet reflection
Unaware that I could see your reflection in the glass and was
Wondering,
Desperately trying to conclude
How biology, chemistry and physics
Could possibly have combined to create something

So terrifyingly beautiful.
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
PK Wakefield
that Falls(
which by   )perhaps
unviolently
foallike

                 demurness


creeps               it
(quickly)
up the spine; tickling
by inch by

and dies
berried in the sigh of Autumn wind
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
PK Wakefield
to open is such a sweet thing, and dear it's so a nice and easy thing to please and unfold maybe the petals of your heat


(where might boys play to eat)
 Oct 2013 Roseanna H
jar
a few months ago,
you asked me: "What is love?"
As you can see,
it had taken me a long time to understand the question myself,
but I think I've finally come up with an answer.
Unfortunately,
the English language
has only one word to describe something that has limitless interpretations.
In Greek,
there are three words for the three basic types of love.
Eros;
lust.
This type of love
is when you find yourself doodling their name
on the inside of your history textbook,
dotting the I's with hearts
as if you are 13 again and you were just asked on your first date.
You chose that textbook
because it will be the only place no one would ever think to look.
You think about everything you would be far too shy to say or act in person,
making out in the back of a movie theatre
not caring who would walk past,
sneaking off away from your friends just to have two measly moments of what you both call "peace."
Most often,
this type of love is encased in "I love you"
only to obtain a certain goal.
Virginty,
a picture,
or even just one more night
of having them in your arms.
Eros is not authentic,
it is emphemeral.
Phileo;
Brotherly Love.
The friend you would drop anything for in a heartbeat to make sure of their wellbeing,
but also the neighbor you see from time to time watering their garden.
They ask you
to tend to their garden while they are away,
and you do it
even though you've never spoken more than a paragraph to the man
because it is what you believe is right.
This type of love is the devotion of time and energy without any promise of compensation in return,
purely out of the good of heart.
Phileo lasts as long as the people do.
The final type of love
is Agape;
unconditional love.
In religion,
we are guided
or pushed
towards showing this type of love towards the diety.
Yet, very rarely
it is shown towards a human being.
Unconditional love
is the ability to say so much with only uttering a single word.
I have experienced this love,
it is great pain
and great sadness
but the feelings of pain will never leave my lips
in case they are transferred to the person i wish to have the least pain.
This kind of love
is when it is not only enough that you think about them every waking moment but every slumber-filled one as well. You have hung up your needs at the front door along with the key to your heart and devoted yourself entirely to them,
even if they don't reciprocate.
They have been adopted by your body and taken the form of a vital *****.
If you do not
pay absolute attention
to them at all times
you will run into many problems.
You need to keep them running smoothly in order to stay alive and healthy,
because without them you are nothing.
You are a sorry sack of bones with a beating heart with no purpose.
Unconditional love is taking all the lessons you have ever learned
all the rights and wrongs you have finally learned the difference between and throwing them out the window.
It is the thin line between sanity and insanity,
heaven and hell,
and safety and danger.
You walk the rope
from building to building
without the promise of a net.
Unconditional love
is authentic,
but not emphemeral.
((Love *****, don't do it.))
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