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I passed through the airport in Minneapolis once.

Maybe, we brushed elbows in the security line. We took off our shoes side by side while they poked through our luggage.

That's when it hit me: there are so many people I'll see once and then never see again. Like, one look is all I'll get, for life!

I walked straight through the metal detector and never looked back.
And now, I keep my distance: six feet away as six feet under, masks as muzzles so that we speak only in glances.

I should have given you a better look on my way to the gate,
before the flights to our final destinations.

Every meeting is both a reunion and a rift.

Strangers like us move apart
with each hollow hello or comment about the weather.

I mean, what if every meeting like that was a loss?

We are good as dead to each other
on arrival and departure,
footprints swept clean by
the wind created from dead bodies
walking the other way.

I should have said this to you
about the virus
as proof of our survival,
how we’re in this together, how your loss is mine.

Each new disaster,
natural or otherwise,
keeps seizing our lungs and
our last breaths like we have
nothing to say.
Does our American Dream begin?
I have died a million times
Master's whip
Has left my back a million lines
Each body left broken
Connections lost
Cut a million vines
Each body left breathless
"I can't breathe" the words screamed a billion times
I die every time another black man is unjustfully executed. His stories, his family, his legacy. We're all connected.
Cox 1d
Most days a hazardous storm.
I, a person, not too cold- neither warm.
My starlit sky was almost always covered with a gothic black atmosphere.
Many feared.
Sometimes it was too much,
allowing a rainfall of emotions to appear in a rush.
Sometimes... when you are around, you bless the ground I walk on.
You make me laugh,
and you fill my sky with a show of thundering fireworks.
You had many quirks.
Each stroke of my charcoal pencil,
Scraping against paper,
Scratched out yet another scar
Masking my feelings
As they bled on paper-
Black rivers running scarlet,
And locked it there,
A dam brimming
Wiped off, in a brave
Attempt to never
Be uncovered again,
Under alluvium.
Connect to me
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Death blindfolds Its weakest target before It strikes efficiently.
When the gaze can be met without knowledge,
Five senses complete are heightened in an explosive state.
Their ears tick and shatter at the sound of their own helplessness,
Tumbling from their newly rented lips.
The taste of blood becomes evident upon their tongue.
Their feelers reach peak for safety,
But can only grasp thin oxygen.
The smell of It’s cologne chokes their lungs before Its grand attack.
It, the Grim Reaper;
The blindfold is removed from the target.
The command is uttered.
Consuming black is introduced as the new light entirely.
Death draws the dying’s ending breath for decorated delight.
mind races at night as of
late, eyes ache and i am
uncomfortably warm;
covers on and off,
hourly trips to the bathroom
just to break up my night
of turning and tossing,
thinking and dozing
but never sleeping.
aching with starvation and
frustration it’s
hard not to groan into
my pillow
and i squint at a
screen for a few minutes
yearning for a distraction but
no one is there.
too late: 1, 2, 3,
4 o’clock and the sun’s already
shining through my sheer
cream curtains.
feels like a trap, like a room with
no doors or windows
but it’s ever so bright.
my hair is tousled and damp with
sweat, dreams are black and
last no longer
than blinking.
Ruheen 6d
I put up pictures on my wall...
Black and white
Just like this
But then I
That none of them
Black and
Or the lonely
Shades of grey
Side by side
And then I
That even I
Grey? Gray?
Honestly, I gave up on caring about the difference. It's a word. A colour between black and white. That's all I need to know.
Our call might end
Our time together,
Might end
But our tie
Like space and time
Will never end.
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