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 Aug 2014 Frisk
betterdays
moss
 Aug 2014 Frisk
betterdays
our love making
early this morning
was slow and exquisite
and made me think of moss
all green verdancy and
softness,
gently enveloping moistness

always close to water
the ultimate source of life
simple but enduring

green earth velveteen
a soft place to fall

but then....
it may have just been
the feel of your soft scratchy
stubble
against the tender skin of
my inner thigh

either way....
thinking on it now
arouses me....again.
again... again.....
                           moss
 Aug 2014 Frisk
mark john junor
her delicate hand did lead me away
from the setting sun and all its warm glories
took me to a place of mysteries
she silenced my velvet tongue with her smile
placed some music in the sweet summer air
pulled me into a soft dance close to
her lace and rose scented silken skin
let me loose myself in her enchantments
let me change in the warmth of her gaze
told me with a voice that sailed the breeze
like on wings of gentle butterfly's
that she could handle a rough one like me
that she could see the harsh edges disappear
if i would let her
she took her words down to whisper
asked me to take her
till the sunshine breaks the clouds
till her last willing surrender
till she would call out so lovely
that she has found who she had spent lifetime looking for
and i knew i could build a life with her too
one with words exchanged softly
one with hopes sweetest dream
with her
today
 Aug 2014 Frisk
betterdays
i am today, found
caught midstep
in betwixt & between
delusion and reality,
the only question
of relevance
is do i step
forward
or back
?
 Aug 2014 Frisk
Megan Grace
finem
 Aug 2014 Frisk
Megan Grace
y  o  u
a l w a y s
told    m e    i
was too  skinny
but no no no i am
beautiful, i am strong
(stronger than i used to
imagine i  could be)  and
my heart is still thumping
like   it   has   been   for   all
these   centuries   i've   lived
even after losing you, even
after feeling like i wasn't
enough  to   make  you
happy.    b u t    jesus
c h r i s t    i    w a s
enough     i    was
enough   i   a m
e n o u g h   .
 Aug 2014 Frisk
Kelsey
Somewhere there is a nurse putting clean sheets on what was once someone's death bed. Somewhere there is a police officer laying awake at two in the morning contemplating breaking his thumbs so he won't have to pull another trigger. Somewhere there is a body bag taking the shape of a person. Somewhere a warden has accidentally called a prisoner by their first name. Somewhere there is a man getting ready to pay for his glass of whiskey, his '1 year' AA token falls out of his wallet onto the bar counter. Somewhere the glass is completely empty, somewhere it's overflowing. Somewhere a therapist sitting in an empty session reading the local newspaper's obituary section wondering what she could've done. Somewhere a bullet has fallen in love with a heart, giving a whole new meaning to the 'kiss of death'. Somewhere the girl that never speaks is raising her hand but immediately putting it back down after the sound of her classmates' laughter bounces back and forth from the back of her mind to the front. Somewhere the silence at the dinner table is making a dent in a child's suit of armor. Somewhere a 70 year old man starts skipping instead of walking, he stops taking his medication. Somewhere there is a mother too drunk to sign her daughter's permission slip. Somewhere a man has stolen all of the flowers from a grave, so he can somehow feel as though he's  being missed. Somewhere a child is asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she realizes ''myself'' isn't a good enough answer. Somewhere a mirror has been mistaken for a stranger. Somewhere someone is being loved by another person the only way they know how to love; whether it's through kisses, bruises, sleeping too closely to the other, or fifteen missed calls. Somewhere a man is falling in love with the automated voice inside of a voice mail because at least she will listen to him. Somewhere a 911 operator is walking into her house, hearing screams that aren't actually there. Somewhere these short stories are being broadcasted on the news,  printed in the paper, whispered to a friend, or rotting in the back of someone's head. Somewhere I am whispering all of these things to a silent room full of people, none of them look up.
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