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I guess I should be haply
Finally I am free of you
Done with the fighting,
Done with the way you get angry
Done with the alcohol you give
Done with continuously trying to please you

We're done, for good this time
Never again will we say another word
And that saddens me in a way
That I've never been saddened before
Jay, for the last time.
I checked my phone every moment I could
and I tried not to get excited when I got a message
I hoped that it was you every time
but I don't know what I expected

Did you even remember what yesterday was?
Have you any idea how badly I want to talk to you?
I want to know how you are, and what's been going on
I want to hug you and breathe in your familiar smell

All I wanted was a message from you
It didn't even have to be long
'happy birthday', would have been enough
but I guess even that was too much to ask for
Jay.
I wrote how I felt
on a small slip of paper
and I threw it
into the ocean
to never been seen
*again
fear.
WET
The porch is all wet
Heaven's wrath bellows, falls wet
Pours like mad...i'm wet!

Rain, pain...keep eyes wet
Pen is fueled, drenched...too wet
Ink blots....paper's wet

Moist wind makes head wet
Wounded heart speaks... mind's soaked wet
My muse, dripping wet...




Sally


Copyright May 18, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***...some lines to cool the mind...the past days have been soooo
      uncomfortably hot....***
Follow the footsteps
That invites you to
A different path
Which leads
To the abode
Where love dwells
Doors ajar
To welcome
The traveler’s soul
Hands hold
Your treasured belief
All encompassing
There is warmth
To soothe the soul
Not weary anymore
After a night’s slumber
It will be a new awakening
Sing me a song o' morning birds
Invite your friends to join the chorus
Let the morning begin with your songs
You flew from afar to make this morning beautiful
Your songs will stay in my heart forever
You bring the distant dreams near me
Making my heart hopeful
I shall also give wings to my dreams
Please carry my dreams to distant lands
Paint an artistic pattern across the lovely blue sky
I will wait for your return o’ messenger
For now let me drown in this beautiful ambience
My heart wants to get up and dance
My feet will match the rhythm of your songs
Word sketcher
In waiting rooms
And stalls
Incomplete thoughts
Writings unresolved

Bits and pieces
In boxes
He hoards
Parts and pieces
Of his very core

Inspired thoughts
That found no rhyme
Lovers lost
Between scribbles
And lines

Perhaps someday
He'll write his book
With incomplete sentences
That have no hooks

Or passionate themes
Of romantic dreams
That run amok
When the telephone rings

And so another lost thought
Of the sketchers get boxed...
Blue skies
and not a cloud in sight.

and whisperings reach far,
mocked goodbyes
and the scent of pine.

connect
with nature,
disconnect from your heart.
we come from dust and to dust we return.

oh! did you skin your knees?
no? just one?
that's OK, brush it off,
return to dust.

lying beside a fallen tree,
flowers grow from your mouth,
your brain; the perfect nutrient
for a sappling.
return to dust.

feel the dirt in your fingers,
feel the sun on your face,
feel the wind through your shirt,
return to dust.

no rain for California,
no relief from the relentless,
we owe gratitude to the dinosaurs
in this age of gasoline.
return to dust;
fuel the next generation's gasoline driven engines,
return to dust.
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