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 Apr 2020 Q
do you regret it?
 Apr 2020 Q
i am not ashamed of the parts
you saw of me
you should be ashamed
of what you did with them
they always take pieces of my soul and release them to the world. they were meant just for you.
 Dec 2019 Q
 Dec 2019 Q
You asked me
if there ever was a moment
when I wanted to leave you,
and truthfully,
there was.

But not a day has passed
that you didn't cross my mind.

People say that in this world
we are all just trying to find
true love,
one of a kind,
and all it takes
is just one glance,
but I believe it's much more
than a lucky chance-

countless moments...

each one a memory
frozen in time

all these moments,
like a mosaic
(too many to count)

in this enormous amount
all I see
is the big picture
and it is the most beautiful artwork
I have ever seen.
That is the art of falling in love
 Apr 2017 Q
Cecelia Francis
When I think of us
now, it reminds me of my
old religion:

a devout Catholic Christian.

My hands pressed together
with my knees on the floor

for attention.

The light of your glory
hid under a bevy of bushels
--where it's most protected--

at a safe and
comfortable distance;

as the giving of a glow
diminishes its flame,
and the hunger pains for fire
enough to ***** it away.

When I think of us
now, I think of my
new religion:

I sit with palms
open and ask softly:
to be kind and beside me.

I smolder in embers
within a phoenix pyre;

it keeps me warm
and fed and requires
very little:

some feathers, some ash,
my happiness
this was a really old poem that was originally going to be a haiku.... obviously it's no longer a haiku
 Oct 2016 Q
simply speaking
 Oct 2016 Q
   is but
    a simple word
      that feels the night
        go by
          and by the time
            it grows,
              it's gone -
                  ­  to

i passed the time
    wandering, round
      and round
        a dream
          and when the darkness caught me
            i seldom
                to scream.

i picked up all the lilies
  my fancies,
       and lost
         and gray
          i never saw past
           the illusion
              it was all
                gone away.

i sought out heaven's seeking,
    i never thought i'd say
      the days, the ways
        to ever know
          how it feels
          ­        slip
 Oct 2016 Q
love, but a liar
 Oct 2016 Q
dear love, you’re a liar
and nothing you’ve told me has been true
you’ve told me silly things,
oh, pretty things, too.

blue, blue, blue
that’s what i see when i think of you
i see blue skies and blue hearts -
i see the night, the early morning, the wishing-washing warning.

“and when we both look at the moon at exactly 11:52,
i’ll finally be next to you,
no longer separated by distance, but both seeing the same sight,
together, together, in the blue, blue night.”

oh love, you’re like art - you’re smart, in such ways i do not know.
but love, you’re a liar
and for you, i refuse to grow tired
 Oct 2016 Q
 Oct 2016 Q
you were a clock always ticking and
the beat of your heart a metronome
you were a bomb and
i did not know when you might burst.
you were combustible
an incendiary grenade
and i was the gasoline
to your wildfires.

you were at war with the world
your mind a battleground
and i cried when you asked me
whether i wondered if life was worth living
perhaps because
i myself did not know

when i went to bed at three in the morning
i still woke up in the middle of the night
i dreamt my heart had burst open, ripped at its seams
still beating faster than death could seize our time on this earth
i asked you why it was that
life is this way

you were an hourglass
trying make to time stand still.
and while i went to every corner of the world
to buy each and every clock that existed,
still, i did not know how to stop it for you.
i did not know how to save a life
when i could not live my own

you were a ticking time bomb,
ready to explode;
and i could not clip the wires
of your mind.
 Sep 2016 Q
Cecelia Francis
Time's not real
but our energy is

waning and

despite the waxy
substance sticking
stringing us together.

A touch of sun,
a lick of flame

melt away,
 Sep 2016 Q
Cecelia Francis
What's not
torn down

by whatever
forces decide
to destroy:

The nails
worn with
yellow gloves

yes, and the
walloping water
that wicks wet,

is the same
sharp dry bursts
that blows up

cupcake confetti
through Pinkie's
party canon
who likes that my little pony reference?
 Sep 2016 Q
Cecelia Francis
Who am I naked for?
Truth be cold and so

shrivels the little member
with a whimper and perks up

******* ****** dry in
the night because the benefit
of co-bedding is not having
to wake to feed

a cry-- a simple sing-song slur
trying to write again despite giving up on it
 Sep 2016 Q
Cecelia Francis
I was
 Sep 2016 Q
Cecelia Francis
I was
raised Catholic
after all,
which means:

I've been
tenderly pruned
by the

Shears of
Catholic Guilt
inverted chord progression
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