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m h John Jul 31
you wanted a house
built out of hope and bricks
a house where you could call home
after losing your way
and becoming homesick
because you couldn’t find yourself

after we went through the storm
the rain washed the hopefulness
from the carpets

the bricks
turned to sticks
which turned to flames

and burned down all the door frames
except the red from door
which you handmade
from the scars on your heart
Hunter Green May 1
I’m slipping, I’m falling,
On my way down I see you threatening my standing.
I don’t know why I put up my defenses,
Like I’m at risk of losing my pretenses.
I can’t celebrate, a stone wall rises before I can appreciate.
I punch the brick to distract my mind.
So I can’t think about the intricate truth.
My hands go numb while handling what I find,
But my mind won’t let you go when my failures are proof.
It hits me
Like a ton of bricks
Every single time

Sometimes
I’m not strong enough
To get back up


Brick by brick
I’m hit
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
standing at the fire wall
open I stand again and again
while my eyes are open while the soul
my sings while by myself i can i sing
while the gold pipe is waiting for me there

and where the lights in the restaurant are lit
and where the sea and love and kisses
everywhere and around and there where the bricks
not only stand but where they are still
and accomplish the greatest and daring flight

standing at the brick wall
I stand open and I live in thoughts
and think and think and contemplate everything
I think and I think when my watch will show
that's five already it's time to run

28.12.18
b Oct 2018
i might leave a greener pasture
for a field of blue roses.
and some time spent
on the coast.

these hands were built
for bricks and
failure. made for
disappointment like a
bowling alley gutter.

dont even get me
started on the rest of it.
i have too much of a
bad thing and we are all
children at play.

i am known to leave
a good thing behind.
but ive never had
a great thing before,
so im not sure
how to feel.

i could start softening
the mortar again,
or just suffer in silence.
Kristina Weeks Jul 2018
So what now love?
What is there left to do?
We’ve established that you love me and that I love you but look at us?
I believe that we both can see that there is no foreseeable we.
So what can we do?
Darling I may love you with every fiber every ounce of life in me but what is this for? All this effort scooping up my outpouring with a cup containing too many holes. My endless charade trying to salvage this lifeless hand that was never mine to hold.
Watch it all fall out.
Watch it all fall.

I feel like we’re on either side of a brick wall and all I have to dig to the other side are my nails. I’ll grind them down in my own futility, bleeding and blistered for an inkling of you.
I know I’m stuck. I know there’s no way.
So why do I try? I don’t want to lose either of you, but **** it’s going to happen.

You say to me.
You jokingly say that you need a girlfriend.
What a jab in the stomach.
You sunk that knife right into my chest and made me hold it as I wept.
Obviously you didn’t mean to but ****...

Of course I can’t get mad.
My platform to stand on is sinking sand and it’s swallowing me whole.
I have no right be upset.
I’m lucky I still have you.
But I know soon.
Soon my love I’ll be stumbling after you falling on the concrete, knees scraping as I try to reach for your hand.
But please.
Don’t turn back for me.
******* it what a ***** I’ve gotten myself into.

One day my darling.
One day.
You may say you love me baby but one day.
One day she will arrive. Like an angel on high becoming and fair. She will sing her siren’s song and entangle you in her yellow colored hair. She will sing a song just for you in a way I never could. Her smile will entice and entrance you and she will lead you away from me.

And I will remain.

I will sit, legs crossed and eyes blind with tears reaching for you with outstretched palm.
I will watch you recede to your watery grave with her because there I no way I could be selfish enough to pull you away and make you stay.
All I can do is beg the man with the numbers and spinning hands for a little bit longer with you. But he looks through me with apathetic eyes. Numb to my plight. He’s seen this all before darling and ,quite frankly, he is over it.
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
salt underfoot
I prevented and did not prevent me from going
and the moon around was water
when there is no water and no sea
then it's under my feet
bricks become water and salt

the light is on the streets
day and night quarters
the sea looks at me and I look at it
and get out the paper
I write again and immediately
I go to nimu and only to him

18.07.18
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