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 Sep 2014 silent
Q
I.

Your comment came to me attached to an ad for condoms,
I was so tickled that I saved a picture of the screen,
So obvious a sign and one I was so glad to receive.

II.

When you were angry with me once,
Your message said, "I love you. But-"
I love you. Period. But.
A confession and an admission,
A statement of fact and then a feeling,
And I felt so bad but you loved me. But-,
And that was all I ever asked.

III.

I'm still writing poems to you all the time,
Smearing ink off the dry erase board
With the heel of my hand,
So I'll wake up hungover
With black palms and overlapping words
Mapped all over this white board.

In theory all of my feelings for you
Get washed away this way,
Every bottle of wine anew,
But in truth I whisper them in my sleep
And know them still at sunrise
Like it's a surprise after all these years
That I still love you
Like I do.

IV.

(It helps, doesn't it?)

((God, so much.))
Wine Poems 1-3, which, I'm going to be honest with you, I have no memory of writing, collected. Edited only slightly, and only in terms of punctuation, to keep the authenticity of the original pieces.
Wine Poem 4 didn't make the final cut, but I did take the title from there, and it's still listed separately if you want to read it.

9/24/14
 Sep 2014 silent
Amanda
I'm glad you exist.
I need my space.
Some moments I just
want to be touched
very hard by your
logic and kindness.

Continue to learn me,
feel me, and love me slowly.
You tell me to trust you,
but the truth is I'm scared.

The last time I trusted so hard,
I was left to drown in the crater
of tears I created for myself.
I’m still coughing up water.

But this is the last time I want
someone else to hold that
kind of power over me.
You aren't a bad person,
I've just learned my lesson this time.
 Dec 2013 silent
gd
You severed my heart,
sliced it to strips and
fed me the pieces
stuffed them down my throat
tearing my vocal chords
leaving me gasping for air and
astoundingly speechless
drowning in water as thick as molasses
in the middle of the ocean of my own tears
as I travel nothing but downwards
weighed down by a solid, rusted anchor
already nearing the seabed
home to caverns and creatures
who are attracted to the sadness I radiate
leaving me to rot at the centre of oblivion
when I know I should be wrapped tightly in your arms.

That's how you make me feel.

And part of me hopes you feel the same gut-wrenching way, while the other (still foolishly in love) hopes you never have to encounter this great amount of affliction you explicitly deserve.

- g.d.
Merry Christmas, ******.
 Dec 2013 silent
Oli Nejad
Poem #31
 Dec 2013 silent
Oli Nejad
I have but only
Finite lights,
And each cruel word
Breaks bulbs.

— The End —