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her lips
that
first kiss
we hope
her
lips
are
still swollen
we really ******
her mouth
?
















...
..
.
you ever kissed
an
...
..
.
another day
under
this
mountains

see me here
pictures
clicking

what flash has blinded your words
that an friendship can not be attained


this my last
letter to you

what love was wasted

shall we say none
no love was wasted
only ones anger
from
hatred


ahh
lovers confusion


not that we thought
you
were
our lover

what are these words
an kiss for your flesh boyfriend
the one you says
keeps
you
from being hollow


what escape from reality
have we not granted you
that your mothers broken wine glasses
never cut my bare feet
as
i
waltzed
across the floor

tell me of my blood stains
the ones that still drop from your dream
listen as the echoe vibrates
through your every
torn out scream

what rose scented
has cursed
your affection

that my afflictions be known
pulling yourself from me
this mountain
has
weighed
upon my back
it's shadowy haze
memories fading
love remains
through
paper
we
cling to you


this ink was but an match

...

snap my fingers
to
the
sound

of flying flames

an kiss from your lips

by the quakes
of
insane

if first true love is just an test
good morning
katelynn beth
?






















...
..
.
uhm
after ..a is partial re-run thoughts
try not to repeat ourselves
kinda hard when your ******* like me
ha ha
are you laughing at us
ahh
oh
hey
ok katelynn beth
"once again"
hello and
ok
this will be my last form of
?harrassment?
as far as putting your user name
in my writes
other than that
best wishes
keep blowing
dishes an dandelions
...
is after me
she is poking
her stick
in my
honey hole

she takes her stick
crams
it
in
my
honey hole

we start to tingle

she pulls her stick
lick lick lick
she licks
me

sting sting sing
we
stung
her bellvadear
?



















...
..
.
there will
be
...
were blue
mine
were
white
when
we kissed
we fused
baby blue
i love you
with
her lips
?















...
..
.
lips were here blue
...
in an hurry
her mind always busy
blowing through
the
leaves
on our trees
she does me
as
we
please
they got so jealous smelling me
oh how she is and was scented
?











...
..
.
and then there was us
...
bs Jan 2018
When I think of love, I can't see you anymore. My mind takes me back to 2 years ago when I never needed more than to see the curve of your lips because I breathed the air I now swore to never long for again. My sanity still slipping like I always do in love, I tiptoe for nights over the puddles I've cried for you, invisible to the world but they're all I see. I've been trying to forget you.
Arlene Corwin Jan 2018
Pain Of Place

We were happy or we weren’t.
Blended feelings formed the most;
College, restaurant, bookshop, church,
Street, park, architecture host
To chunks and bits of searching,
Forming eyes of yesterday.
Covered market, cups of tea,
Open market on a Wednesday,
Stalls of veggies, jewelry;
Child to school and child picked up,
The walking to, the walking back,
The elder tree we plucked, hands cupped,
While counted blocks betrayed a lack
Of some fulfillment.  What the target?
Surely not the streets and market.
Not the people either, nor
The daily passing through home’s door.
Gone.  But pictures still remain.
And with the pictures tints of pain.
Of place that’s not the face,
Not company.
The place acts independently,
Its energy “the spirit of…”
Its colors move.
Algos: pain.
Nostos: going home again.
Sweet nostalgia’s pull is ‘bull’.
Place may frame the pre-ordained;
Memory’s the game pre-pained.
Twists and lists: a dream.
Place and act, smell and sound:
Mind boundaries.
Mostly, we were happy or we weren’t.
an objective, detached examination of the past
is
the
pale
cobra
always
riding
on
my
shadow
her venom
dripping
my
love
?












...
..
.
moths glow
moths glow
was that
an
porch light fear
her hands were trembling
we felt her swelling
in
our
corner
her heart
bursts

moths glow
around her
dust

she is terrified
the
moths
glow

crawl to me child
naked from your bathroom floor
porcelain has an crush on you
it's rings remembering
your bowels
remember
your
fear
of
letting
moths glow
?













...
..
.
wrote after reading
bout
an
"crippling fear of moths"
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