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cleann98 Jun 4
n95
if only any crowd i enter
could give me that same old
mystic ecstatic airborne drug
of elated nightblindness...

or at least a break from this
damp dormant disillusionment,

you would definitely find me
anywhere roaming rampant
restless and so discontent—

        —instead of gasping
        for oxygen that
       we didn't already
        use up together,

or suffocating myself
with the refused exhales
i used to scream out
as soon as you weren't there
to listen to me obediently
accordingly silently suffer...

                 you did tell me once before
      that you will do to me
                     ...whatever you wanted to;

well, now that i seem to
no longer matter to you,
would you be so kind
and take away all this*
useless infected air away too?

       cause if breathing
   just means to inhale
            the same breath i used to
         cry out every single night
    i let you scar and bruise me...
why the **** would i?
aye Mar 15
he swore to me he was a man of god
a man of god who performed the ungodly
he had a rosary wrapped around his arm
pearl white beads strung around his protruding veins
the crucifix dangled between his thumb and index finger
the same thumb caressing my bud
the same index finger soon to pluck out the petals of my flower
i, starved, took a bite of the apple.

as we shared the fruit in a forbidden kiss
i thought to myself:
“did jesus die for this?”
(c) ayesha. h [2022]
Anais Vionet Feb 14
(a billet-doux to HP)

4 minutes til (virtual) class
“Dang”, I think. I need to post today's poem!
I paste the poem, the title, the tags.
I have the sense that once the page says “saving draft” I’m *******.
So I quickly press save.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Argh,” I say under my breath, glancing at my clock.
I press refresh.
Do you want to submit the form?
Of **** course I want to resubmit - I press submit.. and..
502 bad gateway
“Oh my f-king GOD!” I yell at my iPad
I press refresh.
Do you want to resubmit?
Yes, yes, YES- I resubmit, I submit, I supplicate, I grovel.. and..
502 bad gateway
2 minutes
I scream a line of obscenity that would **** the Pope if he were here.
I refresh
One of my roommates inquired, “Are you ok?” from her room.
I resubmit and.. and.. and..
“Yes!” I yell, to reassure my roommate, “Website issues,”
it finally, finally posts.
A “Whoom” sound announces the start of my virtual class.
BLT word of the day challenge: billet-doux: is a love letter.
Please don’t tell me this has never happened to you.
aye Oct 2021
we are hidden in the dark of the room
we are tucked in the warmth of the bed
your lips burn kisses through the skin of my back
my fingers scratch fondly at the scalp of your head.

you are lost in the deepest sleep
i am trapped in an aching wake
in your dreams, you whisper you will always love me
in your room, i whisper: "don't make that mistake."
i am sorry

(c) ayesha. h [two thousand and twenty-one]
Brumous Oct 2021
Please, tell me...
Tell me if you love me,
I still don't know what you think of me
My heart serenades for your love endlessly,
I won't bat an eye if all went down tragically

With my life of screaming melancholy,
tell me that you loved me.
I based it on a book, that I'm currently reading.
Romance but with full-blown angst, my type of books.

-Br.
Warten,
in einem fremden Raum.
Ungewohnte Geräusche.
Unangenehme Gerüche.
Die Anwesenheit einer Fremden im Bett nebenan,
auch wartend,
auch nicht schlafen könnend.
Wie kalter Honig zieht sich die Zeit.
Der Wunsch nach dem Ende der Nacht
begegnet der Angst vor dem Morgengrauen.
Alles sträubt sich.
Die Augen brennen vor Müdigkeit.
Die Matratze zwingt den Muskeln ihre Härte auf.
Was alles sein wird oder sein könnte am morgigen Tag,
taucht auf und ab,
wie ein Ball wogend auf dem Meer.
Der Versuch, alles auszublenden;
die fremde Umgebung,
die fremden Geräusche,
die fremden Gerüche,
die Fremde.
Abtauchen in eine andere Welt;
in meine Welt,
meine Gedanken,
mein Denken.
Müdigkeit übermannt mich.
Schlaf beendet das
Warten.
Bobby Dodds Jul 2021
Everyone always expects a butterfly,
When they find that fearless cocoon;
Hanging over certain death,
And inviting a birth from a new womb.
They expect a sunrise to arise,
To dry out their wings and take flight.
Glittering generalities caught in icarus's wings.
People expect the best from your worst,
And you'll expect that that's best.
Yet this expectation leaves us cursed.
Like the monarchs, who dance under the sun;
When moths are birthed, they dance under a dead one.

I reject the notion of expected beauty,
I reject this reality that-
I need to dance in the sun,
Shine bright beneath the trees,
And fly high to melt my wings,
I despise this idea
Because like the moths,
I will dance among the stars
Between the moons of Jupiter,
And sing with selene in the night.

I will burst from my cocoon
Not in your beauty,
But in mine
Hello everyone, I'm still alive after a tad bit of inactivity, went to Colorado for awhile for camp counseling teaching medicine for BSA.
Going to Florida to sail around the Keyes for a week in two days, we'll see how that works....

(Hmmmm specialize in internal medicine, maybe???? Nahhhhh neurology is too cool not to go into...)
Sasha Iqbal Jul 2021
I'm bound by thin shackles, thick ones too,
My mind is held hostage and how I try to escape,
My body may move, yet the Chains of History keep me bottled, I can't forget the ghosts of my past; the traps I so blindly walked into,
How they love to linger,
As a painful reminder of my regrets and remorse,
They speak to me, like every rose to its thorn,
They bind tighter,
I smile.
For with them,
I am Complete.
MsRobota Jul 2021
All we were
was the end of a moment
All we were
was spilled wine on the carpet
All we were
was lingering, fading, words never spoken
We should've been the start of time
But all we are is...
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