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cmp Apr 2023
Ye much like akin of sin not rut
Hence zen at stake compel
more than ye to truly accept
spell bound land that cast lite
Which lost harbinger never apart from
Hence ye might must perfect cursed fu
Which counter kia hast long sprung
Cause lark of loss gawd proudly sing at heart
I am nor what living script meant
I am sinorut via host welcomed descent
Hence destiny account for wake of us
Though fate continues too miscount era
Hence we winerves through serving evil in labor good at work
Seven where the **** tomorrow went
drea Dec 2022
sorrow fills my body but i don't notice
until it's too late.
but when is
"too late"?
is it when my tears are barreling out of their ducts like tsunamis?
or when i can't get out of bed more than twice a day?
or when i don't know if the reason i can't breathe is the weight of melancholy on my chest or not?
or is "too late"
the beginning of it all?
when is it "too late"?
"too late" has a certain ring to it.
it sounds
like when you're rushing to get someplace important but you trip and fall
and realize
that it doesn't truly matter.
because nothing does.
when is "too late"?
i hope your day/night is going well.
David Hilburn Oct 2022
Done in mentioned light...
Through and due the common, the still
Notice of compliment, a comment of right

The more we save, from the proof of simplicity
Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun
Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy

Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel?
The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance
Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal...

And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity
Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten
Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity

Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book
Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause
When we are the understanding home, to a willing look...

Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope?
Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source?
Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love...

True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light
Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring
The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right...

Loan the call, to me for a universe's song
Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's
Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?
What if a fish gave you something besides dread and mercy, ur, ****...
M Solav Apr 2022
Where is that hand,
That motherly embrace,
Which comforts in its ****** -
That motherly hand I can trust?

Where is that hand,
That warming caress,
Which eases the nerves -
That cocoon of soft curves?

  There is no rest anymore
  In thoughts of exile and escape;
  My being is shaken to the core,
  My soul bent under the stress.

Where is that hand,
That soothing absence,
Which cradles you gently -
That silence of calm and mercy?

Where is the hand,
That promise of better days,
Which relieves innocently -
That convincing “don’t worry”?

  There is no rest anymore
  In thoughts of exile and escape;
  My being is shaken to the core,
  My soul bent under the stress.
Written on August 7th, 2021;
Completed in April 2022.

— Copyright © M. Solav —

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact for usage requests. Thank you.
Angela Rose Jan 2022
Does anyone know the difference between feeling butterflies and feeling nervous?

Because they’re staring to feel like the same **** thing.

I think I’m in love with you.
Anais Vionet Jul 2021
Someone broke my best friend’s heart.
They’d been together throughout the entire lock-down.
And even though it looks like we’re entering a freer time,
he said it felt like she’d become part of the claustrophobia.

Explanations can snag on nerves like fishhooks.
Some explanations are just barely better than nothing.
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