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Mrs Timetable Nov 2023
Looked up to your atmosphere
Saw a little girl with wings
Painting the sky with the
Brushing them up
And letting them flow
Like she did
With her mommy's hair
No camera can capture what we are gifted to see with our eyes and imagination. What do you see in the clouds
solEmn oaSis Oct 2023
G 💥 💥 D Monday mourn hey 👋
U knw who U R... 🤗💫😘
Even at night, tomorrow's poetry shines upon me.

however we aren't that far apart.....
I always missing you a lot !
As a matter of light , as I flashback , Aura of yours were so intact,

u were just a poem with a blind 🦯 rhyme
bringing out the mimic mime out of the inner me
a six to one 🕐 counts obviously is a countdown synergy
ages of sixty one taunts edges from downtown👇 energy

last year I am your forty-five years old sweet lover
until this very moment of our lifetime together
still you and you and only you treated me like a star ⭐✨
not in the night 🌉 and in day time neither

for you might really get of what you wish for !
when my eyes feels your gorgeous looks
as I close it during the longings of my 💘 loving heart ! 💖
**** I'm a little big Aladin scrubbing 🪄🪄 magical lamp 🛋️🪔

It may took a couple town drive away distances everytime I hook for a book just to reached the precious lap between us,

no matter where I make a sight focus of those sparkling scatter bouncing back from my visor...
I'm not bother by a destructible hearsay about that little detour.

Because there's no new into a head-turning sound of a hard-fall hitting bang made by the shattered glass...

Faster than the four o'clock
I'd rather be came like that...
Colder than unloaded glock
I never be able to put a dot !

maybe or Someday Soon
you'll fly me to the moon
Afterwards, we will Cherish our Silhouette
Ain't before paint barnish hour with a seal of wet

not 🚫 that bad
spot and 🛑 stop
I'mma 🦜 talk ****
s o  W h a t

(" solEmn
                                            termlessly ")
I don't believe I could get up during my sleep...
but for sure you'll always there for me everytime I slip !
She is
in the little,
endless hums
of the night,
they are
soft spoken
in the
wind by the
poet’s pen
in stroke of
the fabric of
pages with
written by
hums of the
deep sea
arms of
the cosmos
in a flower
in the eyes
of the one
who have
the dark
to cherish
the light,
in bloom,
she rises
from the
drifted by
the seas of
the moon
to the
she rests,
the tides
until the
sun is in
the earth
stars, the
sleep and
they too, are
ky Jul 2023
If you start questioning it,
she will too,
and then she'll be grateful
that you made her stop and think about it all
because she'll realize you were never
what she wanted.

But what it'll take you a while to realize
is she wasn't what you wanted
Coleen Mzarriz Jul 2023
A jarring, disturbing day for a summer breeze in mid-July. The streets were covered by the footsteps of people hustling, hoping they’d be early for their 8–5 job, and babies crying when their mom left for a meeting that started at 11 a.m. And I bought my favorite coffee—a caramel latte.
It was as if my worn-out hands, which have been clawed out by the hand of the disrespectful ghost who’s been living inside my apartment, coveted the sun and thought it was time for him to be kissed by the summer and embraced by the coldness of the winter—it’s coming and it’s starting to cry a little.
Drop by drop, until my jacket seeped the harsh trickle of the rain. Terribly enough, I was standing near the pedestrian lane, and the universe ribboned the strings between me and this disrespectful ghost. Mind you, he was a stranger once. And we both looked at each other.
He was waiting for the bus, and I am too. He’s on the second seat, and I’m on the left, near the window. Third row. He loves music and likes to listen to it when he’s bathing. He loves writing just like I do, and he loves to hum his favorite songs just like I do.
He loves basketball, but he rarely plays, and he loves to daydream and has two imaginary friends. He loves to hold my hand and kiss me on the cheek. But then he died. And he smells like the earth—with thick thorns covering half of his body, bleeding through his shirt, and losing his smile.
But then again, the earth sent him back, and I started to mourn. I no longer know his name, but I mourn for him. It’s time for this ghost to go, and it happened that we’re both on the same bus, and he was disrespectful enough to not inform me that he’s leaving again.
Perhaps I’ve come to terms with the fact that tenants like him will come and go, and their loose threads will always be tied to me. I’ve yet to let go. He’s dead, and he’s now a stranger who once walked down the street.
My caramel latte is now lukewarm, and I threw it away, but I was early for work. What a jarring, disturbing day.
Perhaps in another universe, we’re both seated in the same row and we’re holding each other’s hands.
Rae Jun 2023
I had been desperately flailing around in the water .
I forgot that if I stopped panicking I could stay afloat.
Drowning my sorrows in distractions .
I forgot what a sober life felt like .
Depression became my default.
I forgot that joy was also an option .
Suffering was normalized.
And peace was just a distant dream .
I was too busy surviving the days .
I had forgotten to just live in the moment..
I wrote this on my lunch break .
Noa Adler May 2023
Oh, to be loved.
What a wish, what a craving.
Freeing, at times,
Yet, oddly, enslaving.

Tied to the wall
By a chain of events
And everyone wants
To give their two cents,

And little old me,
Is curled up in the corner.
I know I belong,
But I feel like a foreigner,

And all that I want
Is your safe, warm embrace,
And all that I get
Is a slap to the face.

This place -
Once a haven, a field where I roamed,
Has lost its spark,
It doesn't feel like a home.

There's cards on the table,
The gamblers place bets,
They set up the scene
As they spit empty threats.

And we run, run away,
As forth move the reapers,
Tired of being pursued,
Tired of being peacekeepers.

But finally,
Just down the street, 'round the bend,
We'll find a place where
Our wounds can all mend.

And you'll lie by my side,
Lips to lips, misbehaving.
Oh, to be loved,
What a wish, What a craving.
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