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Zane Dec 2020
writhing and screaming
i dreamt in smashed hearts and scarlet eyes
in it, i glimpsed
all the love and support i had bled myself to accomplish
was thrown out in favour of a greener man.
instead of growing firm from my current status as a support beam
into the proper foundations
you chose to forsake me
for one so much more accomplished than I.

often horrid foresights of this nature plague me
a small tick i cannot rid myself of
each time I dedicate my heart to one, and one alone

the genesis of this disgusting anticipation
might easily be traced to the progenitor
that first yearning i felt so many years ago
it was early in my youth
i fancied myself smitten with a newfound human
after childishly condemning myself to romantic solitude
  at the onset of puberty

she taught me the intensity of infatuation
the lovely languish of being head over heels
and not a fortnight later
sent me into the deepest depths of despair
for what she had sworn to the stars
she quickly replaced with a decree to the devils
"I found one better"

in my guilt and misery
i blamed myself
and forced a conclusion of the following:
these tools i fashioned to show love
do not fit any existing mold.
i, must love too much
must care more than can be beared
must support, beyond what is norm.

as I awake, i breathe in my surroundings
and remind myself that this fear
though cacophonous at my lowest
is nothing more than old hurt
desperately clinging for relevance
in an existence where i know the gifts I bring
are appreciated by those who surround me
and that eventually
they will be welcomed by you.
when you are ready to accept
that which i know you deserve.
Had a night terror that a person I care for a great deal left me once they had achieved a place a positive mental health. I do not support them with hopes of reciprocation, merely that they will recognize I do so because I love them, and that maybe, they deserve love too.
Zane Nov 2020
the first time i placed my lips onto yours
i chanced a gleam into what could be
immediately, i found myself blinded
and in my cold sweat
felt unworthy

it was then.
you taught me a lesson not easily forgotten
love is quite unlike the way others say it is
it starts as a masoner's quest
the foundations of trust, respect, and compassion
must be strong.
only then, can you begin the process
of forming into what it could be.

so dear,
take my hand
help me build the cornerstones
and transform us beyond this tired dynamic
of part time lovers.
our one kiss
showed me all we could be.
for the partner.
Zane Nov 2020
when you leave
you do so gleaming and gracefully
the words on your lips conveying a sweet, careful goodbye

it was today.
i breathed a sign in the air
as it filled my lungs, the vision overcame me
marked with deserved happiness
a light, perhaps from the heavens
that this union is yet another pillar
in the ever growing foundations
of what will surely become
the place i am destined to be

if not in your arms,
than in the generous love of a friend
whom daily, reminds me of what i could be,
what i should be,
where my dreams could propel me
should i follow the ***** you so gently remind me i have.

my heart.
another written for the partner.
Amanda Hawk Oct 2020
In July, I collect stardust
And text dust
I linger in Shakespeare’s shadow
And who knew
He had a home in Oregon
I walk along his stairs
Finding myself hovering in front
A trio of theatres, tall witches
Brewing a cauldron of magic
Each performance, enticing
Crowds from every corner
And I follow in suit
Getting lost in the magic
That makes me want
To not return home
My favorite place is Ashland, Oregon
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2020
I dreamt of lighter fluid
As desert rain

Stricken against the wind

Building into a phosphorus

A smiling inferno
In the fast lane

Hot cinder rims
Giving joyride the third degree

With fiscal intentions
Of burning this

Right off the map
This mountain pass is an important link from Los Angeles to Las Vegas.
Emily Sep 2020
watch the sun set red through wildfire smoke
from the roof of a battered minivan
that's weathered all the storms of
our Oregon mountain home--
we find ourselves here, repeatedly.
lost on rocky dirt roads by the cliff's edge,
trying to figure out what it means to be twenty
in a world that more and more these days
seems to be crumbling around us--
drive us somewhere never listed on the map,
with music blaring through broken speakers
we'll make our own destination.
Close your eyes, take in a deep breath of the salty air.
Now open them.

With fresh eyes, looking out you see the deep navy blue water and numerous waves in the distant water.
Crash, crash, crashing into each other.
Pristine white cross-hatching sea foam patterns scatter and reform.

You have been walking towards the waters edge and haven't even noticed. The soft cream colored sand starts to darken and harden as you approach the water.

The wind is loud enough to drown out near by conversations and passing cars. You are in your own world. Nothing from the tangible world can touch you. The cool wind constantly battles the suns heat on your face and hands causing your skin to tingle.

You reach your arms out and close your eyes, lost in the moment.

Breathing in the salty fresh air you let go of your troubles, if only for the moment.
If the United States made an Ireland . . .
It would be somewhere on the coast.
It would have massive blue rocky cliffs to hold back the ocean.
It would have fields outlined with shallow rock fences.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
There would be every shade of green as you walk down the street.
There would be moss dangling from the trees reaching out to you.
There would be rain, lots and lots of rain!

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
People would be sailors, fishermen, and drunkards.
People would be cautious and friendly in the same moment.
People would be the biggest jokers you ever met.

It the United States made an Ireland it would be in Oregon. . .
Sharon Talbot Nov 2019
There is a bay on the Oregon coast,
Shaped like a scallop shell
And ringed by rounded stones.
And from the darkening sky
Droop billows of blue and gray
Hanging and lit like Chinese lanterns.
Humans in the damp Northwest
Appear to drip from the clouds
In rain-washed colors
Of blue and violet,
Whose tattered clothes
Are softened and soaked
From ragged wool into rich satin.
Still others bask on shores
Of pebbles rolled by the sea,
Bone white and cloud-gray.
Down and up, down again
The light rays vault,
Painting bipeds into the land.
There are no reflections
But rather water in the air,
Looking like rain
Even on cloudless days.
Their world is saturated
Like the scarlet gowns
Of Waterhouse’s Ariadne
And the ponds of Monet,
Green as the British Isles,
Blue as the Aegean
And white as the Pantheon ruins .
Much like an ancient tomb,
The majesty of mortal lives
Commemorated in stone
Is here splashed in the air
And in every forest or cliff.
Hushing people into silence,
So they conduct the most
Serious customs in whispers,
Knowing how voices echo along
Water droplets
And mountain shadows.
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