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while september cicadas
were singing my neighbors to sleep
i was up walking holes in my shoes
over love once lost
so many poems ago
that the only thing i remember
about the house at 38th & bluestone
is that it reeked of alcohol and is
as i'm sure of it
still saturated in perfume
and abandoned laughter
but that's not the point
give me a minute
what i'm trying to say
is i always thought god
enjoyed watching things leave me
it makes me wonder
what was on his mind
that night in september
when i stooped to cough
or tie my shoelaces
i no longer remember why
but i recall their trajectory
the way gravity cradled my hands
and brought them crashing back to earth like a 747
they landed inches away
from a scrap of crumpled loose leaf
folded in half like the smiles
of my relatives on a holiday truce
you see, lately i've been looking for scars in the newspaper
i find myself checking the obituary
for my former selves since the day i found your suicide letter
maybe that's why i can never explain my obsession with history
maybe archeology is just a funeral
in reverse
maybe hell is just rewinding home movies
or watching confetti
turn back into photographs
i never told anyone
the reason the doors to the gun cabinet in my family's house are locked not because they are afraid
i will take my life
but because sometimes
i sing them birthday songs
on the day you died
it makes me think
of how rooms only echo
when they are empty

*you know
i never echoed until you died
She wrung the morning
From her paint soaked dress,
And watched sunlight
Dance across her fields.
 Jun 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
The good Lord
Provides a roof
Over my head,
And embraces me.

I close my eyes
And dream his
Wonderful dreams.

Ears still open to
The world's hurt—
Still listening.

Hearing the scores
Of angels, crying:
"Hallelujah, hallelujah!

There is refuge for the lost,
The blind will see again,
So get up and walk,
Get up and walk."
TNT
Ang mga bati mo
Ay laging may ngiti
At ang bawat bulaslas ng iyong labi
Ay may kasamang tawa
Na kay tamis sa pandinig
Pero
Nung tiningnan ko
Ang iyong mga kumikinang na mata
Aking napansin na ang mga ito'y sanay
Na pala sa luha at nung
Hinawakan ko
Ang iyong mga matipunong kamay
Naramdaman ko na ikaw pala'y
Nanginginig
Sa takot at galit

Ewan ko sa 'yo pero
Hindi ko na matiis ang iyong hinagpis.


Lumabas ka na sa iyong pagtatago.
Walang ikabubuti
Ang iyong makasariling pagsasarili
At
Higit sa lahat
Huwag na huwag
**** kakalimutan
Na ako ay para sa iyo at
Nandito lang ako palagi.
 Jun 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
you have always been
fringed in gold, always
back lit, probably born
with a silver lining, never
having been a cloud but
you effortlessly drifted
into my life, and out
and out, and out
and
out
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jun 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
I  s t i l l  b l a m e  m y s e l f.
a n d  w e  c o u l d  a r g u e
t h e  d y n a m i c s  o f  h a t e
a n d  w h a t  c o n s t i t u t e s
a s  h a t i n g  b u t  w h y
b o t h e r  w h e n  y o u
w i l l  never  s a y  m y
n a m e  w i t h  a
p o s i t i v e
c o n n o t a t i o n.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
Summer!
The weather is as warm as our embraces
And the sky is as bright
As our tomorrows,
Finally...

It's time to drive to the coast and
Bury our dark worries in white sand
And let our
Smiles mirror the million sparkles
That erupt as we splash
In the briny beach.
And then
Let's get ourselves chocolate tans
with a tint of oranges and strawberries.
Oh,
And sticky kisses
From too much creamy avocado ice creams.

But we won't let the fun falter
Even if we huddle inside
Because we'll finally have time
To read
Adventure novels instead of textbooks
And write
Poems instead of essays on
Metaphysics. We can now
Stay up and
Watch the stars fade into the sunrise while
Sharing ghost stories and secrets
Instead of homework answers.

Summer!
Let out a sigh of relief and then
Take in a gasp of excitement.
Finally!
Actually my summer started in February and it will still end on August. 2 more months to go. Honestly, I'm really excited to go to college already.
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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