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Decisions
         made
  I don't believe in
         fate
  everything is subjective
  even hearts have their own perspective

  You gave me an
         essay
  of things that
         may
  be the transparent you
  let's be risible true

  Am I visible to
         you
  are my hands reachable
         too?
  Is my brain a beautiful mess
  Anything else to confess?

         No.

  It's all a little
         so and so
  Nothing to be ashamed of
  Even if there will be love

  Yeah,
         uncertainty
  can be quite
         heavy

  But that's okay
  I might as well stay
  
  for a little bit longer. Or more.
Laura Aug 19
Sometimes I still can't believe
I was stupid enough to take you back
After the way you treated me the first time around
Acting like that shit doesn't matter
Like it never happened
Like I never cut myself
Thinking about you
Like I never ate my way through $20 worth of McDonald's
Crying over you
Like I never tried to take too many pills
Trying to get you out of my head
Like I never fucked other people, picturing you
Because I still loved you
Like I never wrote hate letters to you
Remembering the pain like it's fresh
Like I never stayed up all night screaming into my pillow
Missing the shit out of you
I took you back like none of that happened
Because that's how much I fucking love you
That's how much I missed having you
You fucked me beyond belief
But all I wanted
Was to have your love again
To have you again
Call me stupid
Or your girlfriend
Same difference
duncan Aug 18
i should feel blessed
to have things to miss.

i only feel lucky,
and rather empty

to have something
to miss
is to have something
to lose.

i am stubborn.
i am a sore loser.

i will circle dates
like a child to chirstmas
for Orion,
and for May.

so until we feel
the sun and its heat.
i bid you adieu
and my love from afar.
ill be waiting
Sharon Talbot Aug 15
Rampant, errant fog
Along a river’s shore,
Once caressing silt and log,
But it vanished just before

The stolen, wayward plumes
Along the glistening sand,
Kissed and missed the ground,
Then fled into a different land.

Mist surrendered fast,
Beneath spears of lowering light,
And silver swords that fight,
Shivering silver into glass.
And Dawn lay down at last.
Driving over a bridge one morning, I saw along the small river, sunbeams shifting through trees along the bank, filtering through rising mist. It was magical!
Hmm?
What was that noise stirring in the darkness of my room?
Is that a voice?
Steps?
Or maybe it's just my mind?
Morphing the sound of the fan into mumbling whispers.
Shadows becoming my bottled up fears.
Distant screams from the past.
Leaving me troubled,
and alone.
And as the flashes of light subside,
and the sounds are covered by the chirping of summer birds,
I'll forget my terrors of the night.
Forget the vision caused by my rotten imaginations.
Forget the scent of carrion pouring out of my head.
Maybe it's just my rotten imagination
rain against the rooftop,

an old melody in my head,

and a bittersweet taste against my tongue.

early may’s rain falls quick and soft

to april’s soft flower bed,

and steals away the setting sun.

it is with quick resolve

and soft delay

that i sit here,
overcast,

alone today.



— a night in may
Irina BBota Jun 29
Sweet passion in may,
If tomorrow never comes,
Should I die today?
poor Ms May inherited Brexit
she sure wishes that she could hex it
away to the gorges of hell
so that no supporter can tell
that she‘s found an ingenious exit
(a salvation for my then junior high school youngest daughter afflicted with cognitive dissonance, who over the intervening years (mor'n half dozen Earth orbitz  ago), I dashed off this poem witnessed nothing short of miraculous transformation evinced and witnessed by profound learning displaying significant aptitude cognition).

twas spawned fondness
   for above named young lady,
   when she got assigned
   to thine offspring

a glint of genuine virtue grew
   into shimmering orb
   of brilliant radiance
   if accorded sound - would ring

the tune of countless angels,
   which imagined beatific,
   Democratic, fantastic...sounds
   generated via many wing

heavenly music filling  
   cosmos with joy as august aural,
   choral, epochal...tones
   would zippily zing

from across universe
spurring one me silly mortal
   to contrive this verse
attempting to capture her
   aura, charisma, enigma...purse

sue wing dynamic link
   with progeny did nurse
emotional and spiritual value
   dedication she did immerse

latent social services skill
   plus natural radiance
   a blessed hire
at Central in Norristown, Pennsylvania,
   whose visits i miss lyre
plucking voice

   stilled concern for precious Shana Punim,
   who aspires to challenge and grow
   this father may spill tears
his lessoned fatherhood role
   n'er did aye tire

and glad fate that though our paths
   will probably not criss cross
curiosity will gnaw within noggin,
   and possibly rub raw minor loss

viz, the persevering
   maiden USA touch of Kim
   lichened to moss
in her rooted cultivation of care
   toward biological lass a lucky toss

of the genetic combination
   from Matthew
   and Abby Harris our jewel
shimmering facets of luminescence
   reminding me human

   gem stone a kool
aid - priceless staff member
   of human league,
   whose golden presence doth gently rule
without doubt a beloved
   unbridled priceless counterpart
   some lucky guy
   pledging his troth yes – she yule

see stars in her eyes
no doubt disappointment
   felt by other guys
envious of he,
   who snagged Kimberly Hartzell
   so worthy and wise!
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