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Lee Holloway Jul 14
At breakfast on our second morning
I noticed she'd taken the same items as before
from the vast and sumptuous buffet and
perhaps foolishly asked if
she didn't want to try different things

'they've got smoked salmon, and eight types of bread,
honey from their own bees
and there's an egg station!'

she said: 'once I've made my choice I stick with it
it just keeps things simpler'

jokingly: 'I guess the same goes for your men too'

stupid, stupid boy

ladies and gentlemen, that
was my ex-wife
Kara Palais May 23
In a town where gulls call over foam kissed stone,
Where sea salt grief clings to wood and bone,
Stood a hotel twenty three rooms small
A place where secrets crawled the walls.

It’s wallpaper was floral and faded red,
While whispers rose up from the unmade bed.
The year was nineteen forty seven
And she’d never know he was on his way with a vengeance

He wore a hat pulled low to hide
Eyes like storms, deep and wide.
Her name was still a song he wept
A curse he caressed a prayer half said

His love had been a ship at war
Cannons blazing towards the shore,
But her leaving? That was the gale
A wind so cruel it split his sail.

Hatred now was fuel to flame,
Drinking down whiskey
And forgetting his shame.

He climbed the stairs with measured tread
Knowing the ninth room housed her lover’s bed.
Opening the door was like splitting a scar
Inside lingered her perfume, the sounds of light jazz, the scent of cigars.

“Don’t” she cried out, but he did not hear.
The sound of revenge pounding in his ears
He pulled the steel from a coat lined dark
A love burned hand, a flint struck spark.

One shot - like thunder cracked in two,
She fell like a wave the sea once knew
The floorboards wept where she now slept
Where evil came to lay her to rest.

He left her there eyes full of dread
Hate on his lips and blood on the bed.
A man who loved like storms love the coasts
Broken down by revenge is now haunted by her ghost.
Ejiro Mar 7
The sky looked shattered from up above
yet here I stand with suitcases in both hands
checking in a room as my fate was planned.
The lobby gleamed in gold and rust
a final shrine to times long past
the chandeliers still softly shimmer
yet the outside world was already gone
the concierge with siren eyes
whispered “enjoy your time”
with a crooked smile.
A penthouse suite with a view so narrow
of oceans boiling acid and stars that died.
The diner was fully stocked
as time itself unlocked
a toast to my humble life
a toast to death dressed in a fancy attire
with a small sip to catch my final breath.
The rooftop pool resembled a lagoon
reflecting ember-colored light
across from the pool a choir sang
their melodic notes sang off-key
a waltz song for letting go.
I watched from my concrete hotel bed
as the clock runs out with the sky turned
the end had come and yet here I lay
a special guest of doomsday
my one final stay
Imagine if the world came to an end
and you decided to spend your last moments
in a hotel bed
Odd Odyssey Poet Aug 2022
Hotel ***—of neighbours dealing in services, buying into
the idea of momentary love by the high purchases. It's like
swerving in traffic, avoiding real love and looking for some action.
Well out here relaxing, feels **** fun. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

On the other side, the creep behind the hole in the wall.
The married husband, setting up a *******. She's a young girl,
and a ****** to all—of what it costs to make it big. He's not so big, but will drive into her like a heavy rig. Pay her off, call a cab to
take her back home. Rinse himself, spray a little cologne to cover
up his immorals. And switch his clothes. What she doesn't know, won't hurt his wife at all. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

But she's in another room downstairs, getting tongue licks
downstairs—downtown. The young man isn't to proud, at least
with the fact he wasn't the first one pointing her down his south.
The fresh taste of adultery in their mouth—his pants are
half down. His business is hanging out; ready to close the deal of
an interesting affair. Then he'll kiss his girlfriend back at their house.
I know she's cheating on me too. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

The cheating girlfriend is actually over eating in another room
alone. With shoes off, to stand herself and her weight.
Running to the bathroom with a finger down her throat.
A little choke, and upbringing those distasteful words. Her body
isn't her worth, and doesn't feel like the one she deserves.
Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

These are the dark rooms, of all the stories in my head.
A couple stories high, to keep me up on my bed. They turn into
dreams, or have been premonitions for a later reality as it seems.

                                                         ­            Who really knows?
Ashley Moor Feb 2021
On a particularly dry morning
I Google “creative writing prompts.”
“What are you eating for breakfast?”
“Have you ever dreamt
of being blasted off to outer space?”
“Have you ever encountered
a speed ******
in a Walmart parking lot?”
“Imagine you are a ghost
roaming the hallways
of the Cecil Hotel.”
“Have you ever looked at yourself
fully naked in the mirror
after a night of ugly debauchery?”
Never mind -
I suppose another love poem
wouldn’t hurt.
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
Wash it with love
Rinch it with love
Chop it with love
Heat it with love
Stir it with love
Serve it with love

It's your turn
Waiting fellow to
Smell it with love
Taste it with love
Praise it with love

Do anything
With love
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Culinary Art
Allyssa Oct 2020
The past is a rundown motel that hasn’t had any visitors in a while but yet you try and stay.
You know the walls are molding and the ceiling has long since caved in but here you are
Residing in a bed with the springs pricking all over your body,
Numbing you to reality.
You cling on to when the room smelled of fresh paint and it wasn’t so dark.
In fact, you can even almost see the sun peeking through the window as if it was yesterday.
But yesterday,
Was many years ago.
The rust,
The damp air,
The rot,
It takes over Yesterday.
Overgrown weeds and musk cover the floor,
Yet,
You still walk barefoot as if it was the carpet that was once there.
You checked in to this marvelous moment not even thinking it could turn into a place.
A place that you began to frequently visit even if the people that lived with you there have no longer occupied the space since,
Well,
Yesterday, it seems.
You sink lower into those springs,
Unaware of your broken bones and puncture wounds because you decided to live in that moment,
Instead of walking out the door at the first sign of flickering lights.
When you knew,
Deep down,
Staying wasn’t an option,
But revisiting became a habit.
Only if it was Yesterday.
It’s time to check out and move on. Oct 2020
Lucy Bernardez Jun 2020
Take me to a hotel, where lips and eyes can meet,
Under the shadow of the lamp and the crisp, white sheets,
Take me there, so I may realign our bodies into their perfect symmetry,
Under the sheets, toss me and turn me, fit my lock to your key.

The curve of a spine, the dimple in your back,
The desperate sensuality that I now lack,
Taste the perfume on my skin,
The fragrant memory I scatter just for you.

In the hotel rooms we used to lie, our bodies curled meeting eye to eye,
In the space between speech, the quietness of I love you is as loud as rain,
The caressing of your fingertips wherever you chose,
What time is left to pass, only God knows.

It was always enough, your love, I wish I’d let you know,
How every touch, every bite, all the highs and the lows,
Always meant more than just the image of a rose,
You are the memory I will take as a daily dose –
To ease the price I must pay for your golden heart,
In the throes of restless longing when we are kept apart.

Life is a game that we all must play; we must all roll the dice.
I would rather lose a thousand times with you by my side,
Than cheat my way or leave this place having never seen your face.
This is what I will say to you when it turns out you were right,
When you said the world will return one day and we would win this fight,
As you kiss my weary head and turn out the hotel room lights.
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