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A happy 18th birthday to Jireh Hong
Who I can proudly say is an amazing ching-chong.
She talks all four corners from food to Grande,
about her amazing voice, not the Starbucks sized latte.
Speaking of drinks, milk tea is her crave,
An hourly dose to satisfy her own rave.
Passing two tests, she is now a pro-status artist in UP,
Not to mention merging art and sport to move on stage gracefully.

The Year of Seven was our first encounter,
Memorable it was, I clearly remember.
During that year there was a game on my birthday
too bad we lost pretty bad, so she cried on that day.
Today, I remember the last thing she did,
She slapped me so hard that even Krisa hid.
From Seven until today there were plenty of memories.
Memories that turned Legendary from mere simple stories.

When I was in Rage Mode, and people wanted to hide,
you were of the few who were helping on the side.
Hashtag specific, this is really all I have to say.
Patiently praying, patiently waiting every single day.

Your height, your might, and your appetite,
They give me insane amounts of fright.
But FACT: It is your heart, that I can say with ease,
that is as big or bigger than any of these.

So for crying out loud, stop working out,
Ya don't need it, gimme the benefit of the doubt.
So go enjoy your music and milk tea
AKA Hang Out more (hehe) with friends and family.
You deserve it hundred percent all the way
So thank you, I wish you a happy birthday.
Extra emphasis on the "Hang Out" more. Hehehehehehehe #srsly
it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands
 May 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
A young Japanese boy
No older than 4
Fell behind his father,
Stumbling over the escalator leading
To our train.

First kid in a long time
To return my glance
With a wide-eyed grin.

He even stopped for a while,

Much unlike the ****** trains.
 May 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
Hi
 May 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
Hi
I'm not sure how this works
Out, you and me,
All twiddling thumbs and
Awkward hair twirls unsure
How to properly
Spit
Out a greeting,

"Oh hello."

And what comes after,
And what should come after.

We try our best to
Veer away from each other,
Afraid that the other would
Smell the
Rancid blue cheeses on
Our tongue,

Or the cliches displayed for all to see,
Like spinach in our teeth.

So we nod.

Slowly.

Abruptly.

With chin up and hair
Tangled somewhere behind
Our ears,
Hopefully.

And ice breakers stale
In the backs
Of our jeans pockets.

Noses crinkling in
Silent prayer as to
Never have to ask the person

"Sooo, how's the weather" or

"Sooo, how much does a polar bear weigh?"

(Enough to break the ice, by the way.)
And He fetched for my heart
Gentle
Fast
That was beating,
Lub dub
Banging until cracks
Weakened
into a hole
Around my chest.
No longer
Lub dub
But a panicked
Hop hop,
Leg-less run marathon
Out of my rib cage.
Lifeless,
Pumping worry
And jealousy,
Replacing my blood,
Until anxiety rowed
broken sail boats
In my veins.
He grabbed it
Said "Stop."
"Patience."

And that's how the heart learned
How to play the waiting game.
arrhythmia
[ uh-rith-mee-uh, ey-rith- ]
noun [Pathology]
1. any disturbance in the rhythm of the heartbeat.
 May 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
i sent you a text saying that we should take a break before you moved to new mexico the first time because I didn't know how to truly let you go (I still don't) and I didn't want to lose you completely because while I felt I was falling out of love, you were still my best friend, a rock, a safe place.  And I'm sorry it took so long to admit, that yes, i was falling out of love, but only the love we built around our youth, a haven for seventeen year olds that had roofs but wanted their own made of leaves and blankets, cologne and sweat. Yes, I fell out of love with adolescence but I still

love

you.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
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