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may Mar 2018
Laying in a dark room gazing at a ceiling fan
Bundled within the mountain of pillows and blankets that drape my bed
The ones around me are already dreaming
And only the soft beat of my heart and calming breathe could be heard
It's times like this when my mind wonders off and the question without answers arrive

What if I did make the decision to move out of state?
How different of a person would I have been?

What if my parents never got a divorce?
Would I be an older sister to just one sibling instead of two?

What if I knew exactly what to say at exactly the right time?
How would my last relationship be holding up?

What if I truly loved myself and was overflowing with courage and boldness?
Would people still like me?

As the night goes on I catch myself still thinking of these 'what if' statements
Or maybe they just never leave my mind
Classifying these as simple "Late Night Thoughts" would be an understatement
Jenny Gordon Jul 2017
He said I'm a good kisser.  ducks head

(sonnet #MMMMMMDI)

His.  O, I wanted Joe to call me his, in pale
Excuse, and yes, to call him MINE.  What hence?
But lo, I am.  He's like a dream come true, a sense
Of all a girl wants in his sweetness, frail
As fancies ever were.  Why, in betrayl?
To top it off, yes...what?  but kissing thence
Is nat'ral, being in his arms like ah, whence?
Two puzzle pieces fitting in detail.
If I said "he is home to me as twere,"
Would all I've tasted then dissolve unto
Some naked shore the waves crash into fer
An endless washing of all that we knew?
He sez that love (in all caps) is too poor.
My legs and lips are what he wants.  What's new?

My mother (when I was 14) begging me to save my kisses for the man who'd marry me, yes, he is the first since grade school and playing house with the neighbor boy.  If this is the fun she alluded to, I'll never have my fill.

— The End —