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Is this a spark
or a flame?
Not to explore it
would be a shame

When you are near
I start to giggle
The way you walk
The way you wiggle

The way those shoes
adorn your feet
All other feelings
are obsolete

Feeling dizzy
head starting to spin
The thoughts I have
could be a sin

Hardly noticed
as if in a shell
Could it be my look
perhaps my smell?

You walk away
I say goodbye
On the inside
I start to cry

Maybe someday
I'll be the man
with an idea
perhaps a plan

To face my fears
without a doubt
and have the courage
to ask you out
 May 2016 summer
Megan Nixon
I remember your eyes, those long eyelashes, the bright blue staring back at me
But I've forgotten the look of them gazing at me

I remember the curve of your mouth, your soft full lips, the way they puckered out
But I've forgotten the feeling of kissing you

I remember your hands, big and rough from those hours at the gym
But I've forgotten how they feel in my own hands

I remember your long hair, tugging on it even though I knew you hated it
But I've forgotten the smell of it after you showered

I remember you pulling me close in the night, wrapping your arm tight around my waist
But I've forgotten the warmth from your body

I remember you said you loved me, you said it every time you left
But I've forgotten what it's like to love you because you forgot first
 May 2016 summer
Corvus
Wormskin
 May 2016 summer
Corvus
His sobriquet was lost as documents detailed his official names,
With relatives and friends no longer parting lips to give breath to his letters.
Shy away from his life--
His pain was adopted by them--
Never again see the man with his soul intact.
Bones fractured with a
Crack
As his body, weighed down with burdens,
Collided with concrete, created a pile on the street.
The screams of on-lookers fell on dead ears,
Since his spirit was already soaring high.
Higher than the drugs ever took him, and his skin lay there,
Left behind in a mound of worthlessness.
The pathetic loner of a man, weak,
Swiss cheese arms from syringes, decaying in a mirror.
Life was never going to be his saviour,
But society was always going to be his executioner
Unless the drugs got to him first with their axe.
Picking his brains only led to self-loathing and confusion,
And now they can't be picked up,
Only wiped away, washed...away.
Like the memory that he ever existed,
Because folks turned their back on him a long time ago,
When it first became clear
That he was a problem, and an oblivious one at that.
Now he's just a name, a record and a headstone,
Family never again speak his name.
Wonder if they even know he spilled his body onto the ground?
All in an attempt at saving his soul, putting right his past.
The man's self-crucifixion.
 May 2016 summer
Molly Nixon
I warned you, son.
"Don't break her heart."
Now you think about that while I rip you apart.

I don't know what it is you seek,
but my sister is out of your league.
Failed to see how lucky you were.
Did not heed my warning when you texted her

What kind of ***** breaks up via texting?
The same little ***** that thinks bussing is flexing.
She'll move onto better, just for a toy.
She won't wait long for a mere busboy.

I could go on forever about things that you lack.
Like, interest, money, a life, a six-pack.
You'll never be good enough for my little sister,
but I hope she's moved on when you realize you've missed her.
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