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heidi 2d
Already August

The wind does take on a nip

and the sky yellows
4:44 pm
I’m scared of days
getting shorter.

I’m scared of poison
seeping through
my brick and mortar.

The more I sit with it,
the more it tells.

The more my head fogs
and the loathing burns.
August burns Monday
into tomorrow’s ashes
of history.

The future will ponder
why a society gave an ear
to the rantings of a man
whose resume was failure.
The tongue is the morning star
Crushed tin
Flailing aluminum stakes
Strapped to the *** with diet cola cans
Sweet and sticky
Sweating in the hot summer sun
A
Sky blue blanket abuzz with gnats
Say it's over
Blasting out
Say it's over
Burning up
Say it's over
Say it's over
Jay Dec 2024
Does your heart still feel like it did in August, a time when every word trembled with the weight of goodbye? When your tears fell like a relentless storm, and every poem you wrote ached with the words you couldn’t speak aloud. Do those words still linger in your heart, etched deeply, or have they begun to fade? Do you still hold me close in your thoughts, or has your grip loosened, like sand slipping through your fingers? Do you still ache for me in my absence, the way you once did when the thought of being apart was unbearable? I’ve read every poem you poured your heart into, each one pulsing with a love so fierce it refused to let go, even when the cracks in our love threatened to break us. Even goodbyes felt incomplete, as if our bond couldn’t truly be severed. But now, I’m left wondering, has time softened your love? Does the thought of me still burn as brightly in your chest, or have the flames dimmed, the fire fading to embers? Has your love for me grown or faltered? I find myself asking: Does your heart still feel like it did in August? Do you still love me with that same depth and intensity?
yesterday august knocked at my door
today he is once again here
and asked me if I’m fine
with every week, month, year passing
the time continues to count days dear
since you sail on your ship to seek peace
leaving a part of you engraved in me behind

stole my peace,
pushed me into the storm
who once was oxygen
is now a poison pushing me to grave
never ever before my eyes punctured at night
never ever before i thought of goodbye
i knew the risk i was taking
i knew how it would end
yet i chose to love you for your words
i still do, i fear
MetaVerse Aug 2024

Like the rounded tip
Of God's clipped big toenail,
The late August moon.

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