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.       let
                                  me in
        sacred spaces
                                                         i can

             let me be your offering
Jessi Apr 2019
a bumble bee
does not deny
taking great care of
the flowers
that provide her with
sweet nectar

do not hide their
beautiful faces
from the
curious sun

a stream
will always run
swiftly away
from a mountain and
into the loving arms
of a valley

the tide
works tirelessly
to touch
mother moon

throw themselves
to the ground
just to be close to

i sacrifice
to keep
missing you.
sky Dec 2018
It drips from my eyes and spills into the fire;
I stare past it to the world that was once breathing,
to the people who greeted it in the morning
My bare foot slides in the dirt, drawing a circle, then stops
The other mimics it
I hold my hands out before me, they bare the offering
The ink begins to stain my skin
It's poring out.
My fingers are melting, and they release it
it falls
for eternity
into the flame
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
I want to see you.
And I feel like I’m putting you first in everything. Giving everything I can round up, to give you a measly offering in the form of what I can find of the shattered pieces of my heart.

Somehow you are the kind of person I will drop everything and drive an hour in a snowstorm at just the chance to do nothing with you. But only if you want me to.
Breon Nov 2018
Will you - your sun's inferno burning bright,
Your radiance demanding all the sky -
Reach down a blessed fingertip, tonight?
Will hands know how to meet as you and I
Lock eyes and blind each other with our light?
Let darkness fall. Burn me, your firefly.
The gods will have the sacraments they claim.
These words, an offering, burn just the same.

And will you turn your moonlit face from me?
Will midnight mystery reclaim your smile,
As silver starlight fades to reverie
Until the sky hangs empty, mile for mile?
If I must spend my sight, myself, to see,
At least we burn with your exclusive style.
What shades of you remain are paradise -
A shame I won't bear witness to you twice.
As prompted by a fellow poet.
Madison Oct 2018
Sometimes, it looks like lenience.

Small passes for big faux pas.

Many believe that it's absolution

Locking themselves in boxes periodically

To cry out, bleeding painful catharsis.

Some sneak it in with charity

Use compassion as a puppet in their mercy show

Throw underhanded in the name of grace.

Some offer it when they're bruised and broken

Spit out blood, then turn the other cheek.

Others give it away with full bellies and warm hands

Either out of purity

Or some nefarious need, pushed down deep.

And I wonder and wander all the while

For I am the fool

Who begs to receive

But can not give.
A prompt from my 'Write This Poem' book. Any guesses what 'it' is?
Doll Spaghetti Aug 2018
A shot of whiskey and some wine

A life in beautiful decline

I try to run, I try to hide

Intoxicated all the time

I'll build a bridge to watch it burn

Pour the ashes in the urn

And turn away just to start again
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