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I L U like my ***** clothes
Love being forgotten
On my bedroom floor

I L U like chores love the
music that helps them
forget they're chores

I L U like ***** dishes
Love hot showers and
the other side of the sink

I L U like I love spilling
Salt, and warding off the evil,
By tossing some behind my back

I L U like I love
Breaking rules about
my own supposed
non-Superstition

I L U like black cats love
Bad luck, cause to them,
It's just Friday, you know?

I L U like the hot dog bun
Loves staring at the beef patty,
Wishing "if only, if only"

I L U like bread loves
Being forgotten till we're really hungry
And then we're all ungrateful, like
"Hey bread, you remember us?"
And bread is high above us, like
"Always."
Not even a hint of scorn

I L U like the first time I saw
Jurassic Park, The dinosaurs
Were real enough
sans chicken feathers, and
Who needs modern science anyways
when love has no fossil records?

I L U like the weather loves
Surprise parties.
I L U like painful
surprise party memories love
being forgotten on my bedroom floor

I love you like Mayflies love living,
oh so briefly, once a day, every single day,
Chapter one to chapter none

I love you like mayflies love themselves,
brevity and all, stirred by nothing but
the glow of Dawn's light,
Dead by dusk, the Mayfly never
knows its final form.
It dies
in complete
incompletion,
but that's okay.

It drank the salt ocean,
it breathed the living air,
And that's how I want to L U
Mayflies are cool little buggers.
Alek Mielnikow Jun 2019
The sun is napping behind a cloud,
though loud plane engines call her awake.

Pollen is prancing around the patch,
and tiny critters follow their lead.

A big dog lies on the patio,
his smelly body absorbing heat.

You rest here with a pen in your hand,
tossing small diamonds into the sand.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)
Bryce Jun 2019
All of you below
Are little tiny ant-people
Bumbling through these funny streets
Hidden beneath my shadow.

With their cut cuticles of hair
And those knotted clumps of muscle
Around the pebble streets they roam
To destinations unknown

All around are towers of steel
All air conditioned and ventricled
Made of stone and office drone
They are the buzzing hives of employables

On the street the blood cells meet
On embolic artery of Battery
On varicose Vein of Sansome
The exoskeleton of this city
Curbed with Grey
and auburn streaks

Far away
Beyond the bay
In the neck of a wood's decay
The tiny ants feast on bark
As cars fly past on an interstate.
Roslyn May 2019
Buzzing bees, crawling ants, lady bugs on your knuckles.
Does the sun wave and wear sunglasses?
Or do the trees never have enough leaves?

Don't act so sweet I don't feel the cavity until it's too late.
But you're not candy.

Grow and nurture, talking care to clean up your wake.
Would you come back for a plant that no one watered?
Dhimss Apr 2019
They moved along the expanse of my back,
Nipping my skin here and there.
No matter how hard I tried it happens each night.
Wait, I was talking about those
"Bed Bugs".
What'd you think?
Lol, I know. That just came out of nowhere
Dana Apr 2019
Clasped in her hands
are the secrets she keeps.
Fireflies captured mid flight-
at midnight, she creeps.
Their sparkle, their sight
now restricted, air tight.
She hides them away,
Reassured they are not showing. Passerbys look
Yet no one can see them glowing.
Insects as new pets.
A hoarder, she collects.
A private sinful stash of consealed facts,
stowed away like getaway cash.
They cry out and weep,
locked up inside deep.
Begging to be released
But she closes her eyes and goes to sleep.
For all the things left unsaid.
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