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Anais Vionet Jan 16
I find myself in full fantasy mode lately. I have a BF (who I saw a couple of weeks ago) and I’m not interrogating my romantic choices - but he’s not here.

Do I have an impulse to throw myself at that boundary? No, but I can steal a look, now and then, like a hotel souvenir - can’t I?

Yesterday morning, Lisa and I stopped at Steep, a coffee shop on science hill, to pick up something breakfasty. At one point the small shop filled with the aroma of apple pie and in my mind, I had a flash memory of this guy, Jordie, last fall, coming into this shop in his little Yale blue and white soccer shorts.

He’d looked fit. In memory, he seemed to move slowly, like individual video frames. There was an interesting, uncomplicated strength, something polished and fresh about him, like a shiny new phone.

“Here,” Lisa said, passing a coffee to me. Then she gave me a sly smile and a tilty-headed look, asking,
“Where’d you go? You looked like you were lost in some bliss.”

A guilt washed through me, as thin and unpleasant as cigarette smoke. The thought of telling her struck me like a slapping hand. Submitting this fantasy to a roommate focus-group seemed wrong.

The whole fantasy was bunkum anyway, an unimportant memory, mapped to a fragrance, as if his taut, tanned, muscular legs had significance.
“I was daydreaming,” I said, with an ‘I don’t know’ shrug and grimace.

(BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Bunkum: a foolish or insincere idea)
Jawad Aug 2023
Where are you?
Let me find you

Leave me a sign

A handkerchief on thorny roses
A candle on your window
A note on my porch
A scarf with your scent
A clue with a friend
A carving on some wood

Open up

Say something that discloses
The tears on your pillow
The reason you torch
The letters of contempt
You chose not to send
Although you could

I don’t get it

What can be the causes
For burning me with sorrow
For making my heart scorch
For making it attempt
To willfully upend
This beautiful cruel love?

I need a signal..
Still waiting and wondering
Zywa Jun 2023
My diligent half

does homework, my dreaming half --

still lingers with her.
Novel "Terug tot Ina Damman - De geschiedenis van een jeugdliefde" ("Back to Ina Damman - The history of an adolescent love", 1934, Simon Vestdijk), II-1, page 109

Collection "Inmost"
Khoisan Mar 2023
I found myself
in a circle of chips
fighting the circus of life
if only the old oak
could shed some light
I guess his bark
was bigger than his bite.
Jaicob Jul 2021
You aren't here
You aren't anywhere.
All you ever do in life
Is blow clouds through the air,
Wasting away through strife.
You know your wife hates it.
You know your children do.
You know that all our money goes
To your selfish habits and you
As your addiction grows

I love you though...
I just wish you'd end this phase-
The one that's spending all our cash
And shortening your days until
You're turned into dust and ash.

You're an absent father
(MY absent father..)
Only here when you need to be
Then you're gone for the end of this verse
And most in between
Either spaced out, asleep, or hearsed.
John McCafferty Jan 2021
Complex indirect energy effects
Dominos tipped in motion from years ahead
Solar waves continue to rollover again
Subtle state flows felt beyond present tense

Self reflection an important order
To step forward in the right direction
Fear not the unknown events
Souls sewn into space with grace

Shadow self flexes when stressed
Amongst absent minded friends
Less of our conscious contempt
Form learned actions instead
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Man Nov 2020
cutting the brush away
only to discover thorns
this prickly cactus person
who has become burdensome
in their self-loathing
is no more a plant for my ***
to spare a drop
i should want not
and waste none
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
Let my silence be a lesson
To be careful what you choose
You dropped what you assumed would always be there
Now you covet the thing you lose

Your life is absent of my sincere words
And you miss the way they sound
Yet you took my voice for granted
All the time it was around

What you did not bother to say
Was what my spoken thoughts meant to you
I expressed my love for you every day
But you couldn't tell me too
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