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unnamed Jan 2021
Sooner or later it was bound to happen.
I fell for you,
                     Again.
In a way I’m quite tired of this dance,
                Waltzing around,
         Spinning,             dipping,
   A two step.                     a  salsa.
         Rhythmic              sadness-
                   Tiptoeing love.
In a way I wish this love had never happened,
I know the impossibility for what I hope for.
Yet everyday I just wait for another song
In our ballroom of text messages and google docs,
The band plays a taunting song-
In the key of heartbreak,
And timed out to the tempo of our thoughts.
Even within our gala the other dancers snicker,
For I have no partner,
And your love is dancing with another.
I have to start learning about the eastern orthodox church
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2020
You left in a state of confusion

I was sure what we had was concrete
All of a sudden I found myself drowning in a flood of emotions
Feedback?
Ileana Amara Dec 2020
love knows no bounds
when the logic retreats,
and a beating heart is found.

IA
clmathew Nov 2020
Ancient forests
started on October 9th, 2020
revised on November 30th, 2020

Translation of a Chinese poem by **** Wei:
"I know no good way
to live and I can't
stop getting lost in my
thoughts, my ancient forests."

I think getting lost
in ancient forests
sounds lovely.

I get lost in my head
in old familiar battlefields
and imagined future apocalypses.

But an ancient forest
with cool, shaded layers of trees
doesn't sound so bad

I guess it is the lost part
that is the problem.
Maybe the ancient forests
wouldn't be so bad
if the poet knew where he was.

Feet touching the earth
anchoring this self
to this exact spot
the soul a beacon
to the world's gps system.

I am here.

I am not lost.

I am.
**** Wei was a Chinese poet who lived from 699 to 759 during the Tang dynasty. This translation of the poem is from The Overstory, by Richard Powers, on page 41.
chang Nov 2020
in storybook endings ,
the princesses
found their princes.
The valiant heroes
chases away all the dragons.
The lost would find
their way home.
And people would find
what they've lost.
But then, whatever happened
to those who fell in love
with the dragons instead?
The damsels,
who became too comfortable
with their own distress?
still mad at disney
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
Crowded mall
Christmastime
Shopping feet all around
Carts fighting for prizes
At last
Perfect present found
Xmas shopping is such a draag
SquidInk Nov 2020
Imagine being in a world where it seems like everyone belongs and you are lost. Imagine going through your day feeling numb because you are scared of putting yourself out to get hurt. Imagine putting on a fake smile and not being happy at all. Imagine being surrounded by people you call friends but you don't even like. Imagine faking happiness because it feels like you forgot to be happy. But then imagine finding someone who turns that all around. Imagine finding someone that genuinely puts a smile on your face. Imagine finding that one person you tell everything to. Imagine not having to fake it around that person. Imagine all the hurt that they have healed. And that's why I say thank you for giving me happiness again best friend.
finding my happy place
I didnt know
How deep I was
Until you found
A piece of me
So lost
Even I didnt know
It existed
Jas Nov 2020
When, in time, where a moment
Of intense desire tips the jar of elucidation
Sets loose a smoothly sailing stream
Down a hungry throat
To the awaiting gullet stuffed with malaise,
Can the rage of enzymes be heard?
Will the breath of despair, and the wailing brew
Of alcohol make peace in silence,
Or is the feat of the battle proclaimed in slurs?

When, in time, will the meager klinks of newborn knees
Ring as explicitly as creaks in an ancient house?
Will screams of hunger conceive compassion
Or should thee be mocked and exiled
To recover from the blithe shame of dependency and impatience?

Hear the sounds tread in darkness
Pleading, crying in the embrace of frigid walls and sterile corners.
Record the rhythm of footsteps
Echoing and fraying -
Taste the smeared sweat of exertion.
Count the patches of lost paint
Stolen and stowed beneath polished nails.

Hold me similarly while I recover.
Show me while I regain sobriety that I was caught
When, in time, I was lost in misery.
Poetic T Nov 2020
Can we hold a breath,
some are like dandelions.

The seeds may disperse,
  and we may try to clasp
             upon them.

We may tenure a few,
   but nevertheless
only certain animations
     may linger.

But even though we
   may lose so many.

The ones we have will
           grow, and even
though some dissipated
beyond our reach.

A flower of
   memories breathe on
in the wind
   flourishing brighter

                      than before.
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