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Fleur Sep 2022
Pleading for a purchased god
Romanticized for its ancien régime
Celiac, and yet I licked the wheat paste
Of the letter I was was trimmed A4

In all that time spent by the basin
(and its traffic-trimming wetlands)
I only rode my bike to the depot
To color code my calendar

When capital kept its calls collect,
When the gravy train kept me idle
Each chamber would be emptied
Fruitlessly: punch drunk with praise

(Indulge a little)

Each from four through five: orchestrated
The plains always claim the sixth
(Respecting the tradition of western folk)
Only three will ever threaten treatment
A stream-of-consciousness bout of grief over a gravy train and the threat its indefinite departure presents.
John McCafferty Jan 2022
This gentle flow takes control with perfect form, dark eyes match and connect in the same breath.
Warmth spreads from head to your *******, lower realms swirl in the depths. Skin glistening.
Bubble up, subtle touch, fingers search inversed.
Would rather tingle your thighs in line with my neck, criss crossed in ****** to snap.
Head tilted back, quiver and spasm as your chasm erupts.
Hushed sighs in a rush collect.
Congruent thoughts mix in our heads, mind *** fulfilled through this text.
Open your legs as your soft lips kiss with delicate sweat, thinking in sync when you stroke the same sense.
All from the chest.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Amanda Kay Burke Jan 2021
Everyone says
"Do whatever makes you happy"
Don't mention the cost of it though
You do not know the price until your choices
Come collect and tell you what you owe

In moments you don't realize
Consequences of what you do
Only after it's too late
You can see what would have been best for you

Some decisions too expensive
Until you get the bill you won't know
By then you can't go back and choose
Different directions to go

So bear in mind that every action
And mistake is a tattoo
No matter how costly our regrets
Every one we can never undo
An old one from 2017
Erian Rose Sep 2020
I'm still me
And we're distant now
I've gotten stronger
And growing loud
Sometimes I wonder
If you hadn't gone
Extending hands
Vast beyond the sea
Collecting deep-colored shells
For a heart severed-to-be
Veritia Venandi Aug 2020
Fallen stars on parched land...

Brought with them a piece of heaven...

The child in me ran to collect... in fragile hands...

To hang them in tender threads from the window...

So as to light up my heart upon a dark day!
Sometimes a sweet memory of the past is all you need to brighten up your dark day!
Amanda Hawk Jul 2020
Vowels and consonants

Pool together into words

As my emotions rain down

The grim and grit

Of every memory clings

To each sentence

Until I step in

Then they collect on me

Dampening fingertips

And soaking my tongue

I jump in

Splashing out thoughts

Until I am coated in my imagination

I stomp through

The puddles of letters

Saturating me with words

And sentences are dripping

From my chin
Poetic T Oct 2019
Time is a construct of
       passing frailties,
We cling to them more so for comfort.


Not realising that we're already
                an echo just rebounding off
the moments that have conceded
to a  passing that is bigger than us.

But still we live for those mere seconds,
                                                 for meaning.

And to show that even though we were
                         just a flicker,


                     we burnt brighter than a star.
Neon Robinson Oct 2017
Is burrowing a web
weaving a collection,
accumulating an anthology

For a far gone day
Stash them away
set them aside with a
what, when, why

rather than right
now ambitious zeal

discoverable.
findability.

Its the nature of the undertaking.
My minds an unavoidable reciprocal
Gratified by wasting time,
It’s just there filling space

Tucked away for a rainy day
In every nook and cranny

Tickling the fancy.

Affording a kind of intellectual gusto
that's borderline deplorable
accumulatively downright trifling.

Nonetheless,
even if it's unnecessary
I'll never get my fill
paper to hand typing away
uncovering all of life's mysteries
Vera Anne Wolf Apr 2019
If I could collect every negative thought you ever had about me.
I would blow them away like a dandelion wish.
Sometimes I wish I could just start over with some people, the ones who judge me before they ever got to really know  me.
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