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Ayla Jun 16
Are my lips not enough like honey?

Are my words not sweet as Eden?

Do I palely compare to the affair of your dreams?

Woe, though I still love me.
Happy for you but sad for me
Last night I drifted away into a panicked state all night.
eyes filled with tears, I paced and felt so sick I knew this wasn't right.
You were only down stairs but you felt so far away.
I found it hard to breathe my heart did race.

feeling so frail and unsure,
I worry about what you do behind closed doors

oh no, this is happening again
I've fallen so fast, I just can't pretend
What a fool I've been, surely I should have seen. The signed were there but the thought of loosing you I just couldn't bare.
Carlo C Gomez May 16
gone to earth

left for dead

everything is tickety-boo

forget your iron-on measures

and scuttled installation

your life is a bakery

that cake is like your head


and full of regret

what am I reading these days?

a book across the stars

where dreams in the throes

of giddy aerosol cans

**** the passersby

and sleep against

the exit sign

Intimate tables. White linen coverings. The room, a checkerboard against the mahogany floor. Cozy nooks for two sit poised for the evening crowd, set against the wainscoting of one wall, a length of crystalline windows above.

A place setting removed, she sits alone, the amber light of her wine an imposter for the last shards of daylight that poke from behind a ridge.

She swirls her wine clockwise. Something to do with progress, he said. Or she read that somewhere. She can't remember which.

She finishes and turns the stem of her glass slowly hoping to leave an impression in the cloth, when a voice says, "May I join you?"
EmVidar Apr 22
always feels like
the end

-em vidar
EmVidar Apr 4
our time always
was better spent

-em vidar
Jodie-Elaine Jan 23
On a day that was shaped a little different,
I was talking to two specs of star-stuff.
Grief was staring at me from her chair in the
corner. I asked them,
        What comes next?
The small one, she smiled quite sadly and
        The most important part,
        but you’ll have to wait and see.
        Mum’s waiting, you’d better go.
From my upcoming collection, 'Haven't the Foggiest'.
Kyle Mouat Jan 15
The fire lit is bright,
As a lamp within the abyss;
It ignites the contents
Of the wooden chamber;

Smoke slowly escapes the contraption,
Designed to guide its flow;
Into the bags of flesh
That only fresh air have called home;

It swirls inside with no escape
Before it is slowly & gently removed;
Smoke now escapes into the air,
Dispersing, never to be seen again;

Inside the little fire dies
Leaving behind a pile of ash;
Fresh air is again acquainted
Into the passage of which air flows;

The taste that is left behind
Is a burning that cannot be quenched;
Calmness now sweeps over
Bringing a cool feeling;

Thoughts were much clearer
Than the mist that was once breathed;
Now they are scattered,
Similar to the smoke that had left;

Fearing that this feeling is but a dream
and praying that it will last;
But no sadness shall be felt
When the pipe is no longer lit;
For all things must conclude
And the briefness of existence celebrated.
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