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Nicole Aug 2015
I was merely clay
My master's hands molded me,
Shaped me to her own desire.
She loved me dearly,
telling me daily, how beautiful I was,
sharing with me her struggles.
All I knew, all the words that came out of my mouth,
a reflection of her, it was.
Only in her hands, held in captivity,
never seeing the light of day.
People looked at me from the sidelines,
not knowing what I was becoming
- a hardened soul.
I was with no one else for long enough,
I never knew the perspectives of others.
All I knew was the lessons she imparted.

One fine day I was put through the fire
Intense flames, I screech and scream,
begging for help.
Yet no one knew me,
no one was willing to help.

Eventually I left the fire,
Hardened, and cautious,
looking at everyone who did not come to my rescue.
I would never let anyone near me,
Never let anyone shatter me.

Little did I know she was the one who put me through the flames.

She no longer has control,
I am being put out there,
But I am hardened,
void of emotion, void of feeling,
I am in circles. I don't know how to leave this loop.
  Aug 2015 Nicole
xuans
the waves that carry you
swelling like a bruise
with every drawn breath
bringing you to your death
waves of turmoil, anguish
with sole will to punish.
trapped; sinking into an abyss
darkness, like a soft kiss.
watching the world cave in
as you think about what could've been
how do you let go of the things
that are ever so haunting?
cast them away upon the waves,
the very ones forming your grave.
  Aug 2015 Nicole
xuans
red: the colour of luscious lips
oh, the way it branded my skin
the touch of your fingertips
love letters in indelible ink

red, the colour of your cheeks
as I caressed your face gently
my, I wished I could take a lick!
of course, only with my pinky

blue, the colour of your bright eyes
a lovely sparkle of genius
like the soft glow of the sunrise
please, arise these tears not from fears.

blue, the colour of your summer gown
when you first said I was a dear
then you proceeded with a frown
tucking your heart next to mine, here.

brown, the colour of your long hair
as it fell in waves from your head
you clung like I was a stuffed bear
like a toy you would bring to bed

brown, the colour of our photos
the faded sense of nostalgia
has kept me on my tippy toes
that I'll see you again, right here
  Aug 2015 Nicole
xuans
Times are hard when things have got no meaning
it is pointless to keep running away from the one thing
for which you are living;
it comes back, ever so haunting.

I've found a key on the floor
quite a strange find in a strange place
when I find someone to adore
maybe I too, will find solace

Maybe you and I will not believe in the things we find behind the door
a new dream? Or ancient lore?
maybe it would be quite a bore
Maybe it will touch me to my core

So what's the matter with you?
take the first step outwards
hold fast to my hands
and together we'll walk this through.

Sing me something new.
don't get me wrong,
for your words are like dew,
precious and beautiful.

Stand by me,*
and I'll show you all the things we could be.
for the Oasis fans out there, you may realise the italicised bits are a verse from Stand By Me....anyway, sorry I haven't been posting; I've been rather busy during this period :-(
  Jul 2015 Nicole
Jeremy R Frenette
My mentor spoke to me of two rivals,
Once, they had been friends in some distant past.
But the years have eaten their love and made grudges manifest.
|The two shattered into broken glass

To my wise master I asked only one,
One question... In all my range.
One question I asked:
“What changed?”

In the outskirts, at the home of my daughter
Where you can stare at the stars or passing cars
None more brighter than the other,
We share memories of my grandmother.
In the photographs, she looks so much younger.
Not frail, but a fighter, lover and saintly|

To me, she asks plainly,
One question, and one question only.
Sifting through the ages of years past:
“What Changed?”

At the kitchen table, feeling inadequate,
My lover screaming and frustrated,
I recall memories when we had been intimate.
Times when movement was made for desire and not duty
|A calendar of nights left in confused abstinence

I interrupt.
She delays rage.
I beg,
“What Changed?”

_

In the last few hours of night
The dawn reaches me at last.
I had locked moments-
Literal seconds of time as the truth.
But it was always changing
In flux and morphing.
Turning into something new
Just for a moment, and then on again
“What Changed?”
Everything.
Always.
  Jul 2015 Nicole
xuans
you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.

maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.

but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!

the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!

— The End —