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Rae Jun 2019
The rhyme was easy
The meter was simple
All we needed was the title.

Whispered words in the night
Loops traced on restaurant napkins
A soft sound against my neck.

A burst of thought during lunch break
Scrolling through lines on a screen
Or the rasp of pages between dry fingers.

The title eluded us
A distant, provocative idea whose
Promise tasted sweeter than its journey,
But whose demand pulled at our stomachs
In an endless tug-of-war.

It was one a.m., he had garlic and
***** and toothpaste breath and I
Coughed and mumbled and
Shoved him away when he
Gasped and prodded my shoulder,
Excited feet making the bed shake.

Somewhere between my "*******"
And "goodnight, sweetheart" was the
Soft caress, the tickle on the back of my neck
That wormed its way into the
Corner of my brain
A white film that slowly seeped behind
My eyelids-
"Reginald"

Reginald
Reginald?
I sat up, I turned, I stared at him until
He opened one smoky eye and watched me
Watching him.

And then I laughed.
And laughed.

And that's why we named you Reginald.
nobody Jun 2019
i went to see a psychiatrist last monday in the “avenues” and it was refreshing in a way because she actually listened to me, without making me nervous, which is hard. she asked me simple questions, i told her of the ****** abuse as a child, and the toxicity of my relationship before. she asked how my quality of sleep is, and i said it’s fine but i wake up crying or once i screamed “****** ******”, and i also punched the fan blowing on my face in my sleep because i thought i was being attacked. i have panic attacks after grocery shopping and a phobia of crowds, although i’m really unsafe anywhere, anything could happen is how i feel. (my whole life has felt like i’m on the edge of a cliff) i pick at my face, and sometimes pluck out my hair. embarrassing. but better than when i was a young girl and ******.. on my.. ****** hair... ugh. wow.
anyway she said it sounds like i’m having ptsd symptoms, and that my behavior is very common in people with childhood trauma. she adjusted my meds, now i’m on the highest dose prozac, doxycycline for my face, flexeril, klonopin nightly, and trazadone. oh and birth control. anyway i called out to work one day because the night previous i had had two panic attacks, in my sleep as well. long story short my coworker (i think she’s my friend but i really don’t know to tell you the truth) asked how i was, and i told her everything i just said. she replied with “ptsd from what?”
and my thing is i’ve told her of *** abuse when I was a child, and i’ve told her about my toxic abusive relationship. so i replied with photos i’ve taken over the years of my self harm and explained again the abuse and she never replied. i see her at work and she acts chipper as always and just exactly like my friend/coworker. but the only thing she said to me about the pictures i sent her “are you feeling any better?” as she was getting in her car.
that stung a little bit.
anyway i truly am a crybaby. no sense of direction because i have no sense of urgency. “nothing really matters, anyone can see”
and yet there are days when the sun shines even though it hurts my eyes, and it’s beautiful, the flowers in our front yard are beautiful. i’m grateful for life. maybe the meds are working again, hm?
6 - 24 - 19
raquezha Jun 2019
Baby, you make music
like a mother's love
you take your listeners
to their childhood memories
you make them miss their moms
your music kills all the cliches in the world
your music heals all sounds
your music captures my soul
so don't ever stop
until you reach your goal
https://t.co/92nWXeLud0
Nigdaw Jun 2019
I will flower like an orchid
In the forest,
Beautifully alone;
With only the sky to see my colour
The trees to call my home.
When I die, no one will cry
At the passing of my beauty;
As petals fade and leaves shrivel,
I will return to whence I came
Leaving the world unaltered.
neth jones Jun 2019
Mother
new Mother
lies birth sore
and always close to a bathroom

Little Lamb
screams it’s new song raw
reading loss through its tender sacking

Faithless Lover is already next door
receiving well wishes
and plundering attention
Star BG Jun 2019
A gift it is... to be in the presence of a new baby.

The being unimpeded by earths
third dimensional mindsets.

A new born fused with higher self
who is the vibration of God.

The one shrouded in a veil of light
ready to experience life again for soul.

A new born in state of nakedness
lying with grace free of judgement.

The mirror of ones own original self
who carries unlimited possibilities.

A new born who gives an invitation
in moment to smile and play.

The reason to see blessing present
and release gratitude in voice

A new born who carries stars in eyes
calling many to embrace the now.

The being ready to take on role of teacher
for mother and those present.

Those who can see the embodiment of beauty
deserving of celebration.
Inspired by friend I heard was PG
Star BG Jun 2019
A sacred baby
carries stars inside their eyes
legacy of soul.


School is in session
A new born is the teacher
every age teachers
*
students are us all
These came from my poem New Baby
Mackenzie Jun 2019
I miss the way your kiss felt electric and
Your laughter got me high
I miss the way that we made lightening between my thighs and baby, baby, baby….. blue eyes
Summer skies
Sun kissed skin and you
Are my favorite sin.
Anastasia Jun 2019
in an old
old house
there are corpses in the cradles
and an old
delusional woman.
it's reeks of flesh
and baby powder
piled with blood-stained clothes
a "husband" lies
cold in bed
with parts
from "almost-perfect" men
the floor sags
and the stairs creek
the walls echo
with the cooing
cracking
voice
of an old
delusional
woman.
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