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Xallan 2d
The sun sets
later, over a sandy horizon, and
my cat
sleeps at the foot of my bed.

The robins are
smaller,
and more fearful,
their songs less sweet.
The mosquitoes are
smaller,
and less aggressive,
with less bite.

The sea's high-flung mist
obscures
the stars.
My summertime blanket.

It takes
more effort
to get up in the morning:
I'm not
chasing
anything
anymore.

The sky collapses
when I'm not looking at it.
My mind collapses
when I'm looking at it,
but
I'm Lot's wife,
I'm Orpheus, I
can't help but look back.

But I can be washed out onto the beach,
into the
soft feathers
of the waves, the
soft feathers
of the fog.

As the sun sinks into the sea,
draining color with it, it
leaves behind
an aura:
orange and bright,
a shadow
of a black hole.

I'm
alone
in the sand,
I'm just another
odd grain.

Maybe the sky
has to
collapse:
my heart isn't
large enough to contain
all it feels,
my head isn't
big enough to contain
all it sees,
my skin isn't
vast enough to contain
all it senses.

Maybe I can
learn
how to chase a sun.
Snipes Jul 10
caught in delirious highs of gasping
i inhale running away from passing
made it through life’s chokehold in its pace of speed, only for a new race to start up in my lead
Madeleine Jan 31
A Broken heart
Has many paths
Many stories that don't part

The shattered pieces
Connecting to another
Value and lessons increases

Getting glued back together
Only to take a chance at love again
Being soft as a feather

Each crack
All different
Some just a deep black
Like an abyss
Too much to attack

To a healing path
That starts with a long hot bath

To take time alone
In order to hone
Your true self in the unknown

A Broken heart is beautiful
That to you, yourself it's suitable

A Broken heart is strong
For all that's been done
Still moves along

A Broken heart is always growing
Not always flowing
But getting through life slowly

A Broken heart
That can't help but to restart
T J Green Jan 22
What is left for me to write
That hasn’t already crossed the page?
My heart aches for something new
Something real to embrace
To put into place
The stale waste that has captured my heart.

Time trailing away,
Waiting for things to change.
I want to adventure,
To explore,
To be brave and face all the things
I tell myself are for people with less fear than me.

Stuck in a half panic,
I am exhausted all the time
From a fear of everything.
But I want to feel something different
Excitement, hope, achievement
Change.
I need to feel something change.

I know the time is coming,
I know I need to wait
Just a little longer.
I need to hold steady,
Keep the fear at bay,
And when things change

Take the leap of faith,
Experience the world I want to see,
Be the person I needed,
Do the right things,
But mostly
I want to live.

Then, maybe,
I’ll have something new
To grace the page
I’m ready
To find something new to say.

I want something unwritten.
Michael Joseph Dec 2021
Under the blankets are marks of love and hate
For you and our never-ending struggle;
Claws marked under the skin, or swords of words
Marred and married to my bones.

Still talking to you in my head, tiny voices lingering
For the beating that slowly recuperates, with wild imaginings
Of healing and warmth of the faithful forgiving
Embracing the cold of the storm and the thundering

Blows that echoes deep in the night
In my momentary solitude, once ours.

Once hours of love, now marked, blighted
The faithful, the living, leaving with scars.

Under the blankets are traces of you
Marred and married in my skin,
Wounded deep with pain
- The heat lost its flame.
I wrote this poem for all of you guys who are going through a toxic relationship and felt wronged. We can get through this together.
Ira Desmond Nov 2021
The fruit of
the Pacific madrone
tree may at
first entice you
with its ripe,
fiery, scarlet skin.

But bite into
this fruit, and
you’ll taste an
astringent, gristly pith
with hard seeds
like children’s teeth.

You will know
the foolish feeling
that lurks within
that yawning gap
between sugary expectations
and bitter reality.
Leocardo Reis Nov 2021
To see you,
as you see me,
is a difficult art.
To repress it all,
to paint over
all the vivid colours
you inspire in me
is a labour of love.

All I'd like
is to see you
as you see me.
But to hear your voice
is to fall for all the same spells;
of all things concerning you,
I am defenceless.

Will the passing years
dull the yearning
of a heavy heart?
Perhaps,
but how helpless
I feel,
how lonely.
girl diffused Oct 2021
Hello old friend,
With your tall sweeping evergreens
Towering almost endlessly
Into a blue clear sky
The endless swell of traffic
Cars peeling down the street
The smell of roasted coffee beans
From some hole-in-the-wall cafe
The obvious transplant donning an umbrella in the Autumnal warm rain
The light sprinkling of water enough
To nurture the verdant green

Hello old friend,
Mt. Rainier, she greets me,
Looming ever majestically
Over expanses of tree and road
Her white peaks cresting over
Fields of blossoming flowers
The tulip fields scattered across the sloping
Skagit Valley, her vineyards spanning for miles and miles

Hello old friend,
Seattle's grungy nature
Masked by her streets of trendy
Cafes and farm-to-table restaurants
Her mom and pop cafes
Her canvas gray dress marred by graffiti
And street tags
The busker on the street corner panhandling for change
The homeless sheltering under a cardboard blanket outside of a Starbuck's
The transplant with the umbrella stopping down to drop change in their jar
The crumpled dollar
The locals who pointedly ignore him on their way to work, to school, back home, to somewhere...anywhere...
The constant dazed bustle
The stench and pungent odor of ****
Curling around every seedy corner and
Affluent street crossing

Hello old friend,
It's been a while
Let me nestle into your newness
A new coast greets me across the horizon
Replaced by homespun everything
Pastoral fields where the bovine and equine reside

Hello old friend,
I suppose you're home now
I suppose you're home...
A/N: I moved to Washington State. I secured an apartment and new employment is in the hangar. A lot of...new everything. I shoddily put this together and I feel as if it regrettably shows.

Well, I hope you find some solace in the awkward virginal writing. Moving strips away everything that's routine and gives you a blank slab of concrete with which to make your mark. I suppose then...the writing was unintentionally intentional in its awkwardness.
Aquila Oct 2021
The timing wasn't right for us-
But you breaking your arm
And getting cheated on
And making enemies
Does bring a smile to my face.
The timing wasn't right for us-
But karma never sleeps.
i laughed when i found out he got cheated on
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