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Clouds form and fill the sky
Everything turns gray.
Still, there is no you.
You don't say sorry.
You don't say anything.

I walk outside,
Expecting to see you
At the very least, hear you
Rumble closer.

The sky is just as stubborn,
Refusing to move.
Here I am, outside
Head tilted back,
Mouth open, waiting for you.

Picturing your voice
Rumbling in the distance.
You don't say that you're sorry.
The rain still hasn't come
@Jess,
"The greatest one I bear now,
making me die a little each day,
is that I let you go, not knowing,
leaving was a decision you'd regret."
You, with your raw, poignant words,
captured the agony of unspoken goodbyes,
painting the ache of regret like a timeless portrait.
In your verse, I hear the soul's deepest cry,
yet in your strength, there’s also light.

@Anais Vionet,
"I am the wind, the desert breeze,
the ocean spray and rustling leaves."
You, like the wind, slip through every thought,
a breath of freedom captured in verse,
unstoppable, untamed. Your lines dance
like whispers of the sea,
speaking of transformation, beauty, and loss.

@Shane Michael Stoops,
"46 years,
What do you get,
Your way past old,
Your pants don’t seem to fit"
You embrace the passage of time,
showing us the strength in weariness,
the humor in change. Your words,
like a hearty laugh, echo through life's stages,
reminding us that every line of life is worth reading.

@CJ Sutherland,
"eye now know
the how, when, where and the-why,
my Eyes compose this elegy
memories of past and present... blending into memories of future happenstance."
Your poetry is a mosaic of time,
where past, present, and future coexist,
and each word is a step toward discovery.
Your mind is both a mirror and a window,
reflecting and shaping the world.

@Shane Michael Stoops (again),
"We danced in the rain,
Laughing away so much pain."
Your words hold an unspoken promise,
the joy of dancing in the face of sorrow.
In your poems, there is an invitation to release,
to shed our fears and allow laughter to heal.
You teach us that pain and joy can coexist.

@Jess (again),
"I hardly understand the ticking of the clock,
trying hard to go through each day."
The ticking of your verse carries the weight
of endless hours and endless thoughts.
In your words, I hear the struggle of time
and the ache of waiting for solace.
But there's grace in your journey—
and your courage leaves a lasting mark.

@Anais Vionet (again),
"What is chosen is believed,
though the choices are presented—
I choose among the sacrificial burnt offerings."
You have a way of breaking down complexity
with a single line, weaving the eternal truth
into a delicate, yet unapologetically bold choice.
Your words cut to the heart,
unraveling mysteries with elegance and resolve.
These voices create a tapestry of pain, hope, freedom, and resilience. Every verse from each one is an invitation to listen, learn, and grow.
Are you familiar with the phrase, "Looks like your mom dressed you?"
That’s what I see when I look at you
Not because of the clothes, but because of the care.
And that’s what makes me love you the most.

I show it in how much I care.
I offer to buy you lunch when I know you’ve had a long day.
And still, you have the energy to talk to me the way you do
The way you make me feel like I am family.

Your words are a comfort you don’t realize I need.
And while there’s nothing wrong with Mom,
Babe, your dad raised you right.
He taught you that the world is tough
That to get a single thing you want,
You have to go through so much.
And still, you tell yourself that everything is going to be okay.
I know because I live it, and it’s easy to see.
Babe, you carry your father’s strength.

You love me protectively.
You make space for me.
You save room for me.
It’s rare to find a woman like you.
Every time you leave,
I’m already waiting to see your face again.

I love the way you were raised
I want to sink
And lose myself 600 ways in you
Losing myself in how you feel,  
How you smell.
A softness that doesn't fray
Between the heat  
Shared between you and me,  
It doesn't wrinkle.  
It doesn't crease.  

It's not a traumatic response  
From any part of your or my journey.  
You breathe against me
The kind of comfort that trust  
Cannot put into words.  
Unrushed. Patient.  
The way home should feel.

Before true happiness,  
I stretch and unwind  
In your quiet
Twisting and turning,  
My face pressed into how  
Warm you are.  
When I lay on you,  
I don't want to get up.  
I want to lay here and dream,  
Far from the suffocation  
That exists away from you.  

No matter how rough I am,  
Compared to your softness
This goes beyond material reality
Where hands and feet  
Don't have to beg for rest.
They just are.

There are no wrinkles in how you love,  
In the way you unfold and spread yourself.  
Eventually,  
Love doesn’t stay young forever.  
It matures in its openness.  
In this, there is surrender.  
I am consumed in you
No longer twisting,  
No longer turning,  
But at peace.
Whether I am closing my eyes
Or opening them.
I am glad that you're here
When I got in the shower,
I noticed that you hung
your washcloth next to mine.
When I realized,
I stared at it for a minute,
feeling a relief that words
can't really assure.

Not exactly rocket science,
but it took me by surprise
to see it hanging there,
reaching over it to grab mine.
When I finished washing,
I rung mine out and hung
it back beside yours,
scooting it over to make sure
there was enough room
for both to hang.

The parts of ourselves
that we try to hide,
welcoming them both
back home.

A small gesture that made me
reconsider not just my day,
but you
softening the distance between us,
at least long enough to shower, dry off,
and see your face when I walk out
the bathroom.
You don't ask for more.
To be honest
It's not about the rags at all.
Just another thing that makes me
Think of you
I want to see you as a person,
Not your body,
Nor the way your fingers curl
Around my side
When you hold on to me.
I want to see you for who you are,
Not for what I or the world wants to see.
I want to hear your heartbeat,
For reasons that may feel selfish to me,
But are selfless to you.
Your own truth,
That has no reason to be,
Except for the fact that you wanted it
To be.
Like a child taking their first step.
No matter how wild, they are free.

Even if that means separating from me,
The further you step.
For some, a minute feels like an hour
And a day feels like forever,
But the fire in your eyes that starts
when you smile
Keeps me warm,
Whenever I think of you,
And keeps the shadows away.
Until you return
When the bill came,
We split it,
Not because we couldn’t afford it
Or because one of our egos
Got in the way.
The world has enough debt
And definitely enough lies.
The first step to getting to know
Each other is to stop pretending
That we’re anything other than human.

I love the way you took your time
Looking over the menu,
Not a quick glance, but in a thoughtful,
Meaningful Way,
Considering what you really wanted.
Something that would keep you full,
Even after you left.
I could see myself falling in love
With you,
Taking your time before speaking,
Processing every word,
Not afraid to explain after you speak.

The money didn’t matter.
Regardless of the circumstances,
It would still be spent
Why not share the experience?
No different than me holding
My fork up, asking you
To try what’s on my plate.

There’s no need to hide who we are,
Whether my stomach growls
In front of you or when I’m away.
There are things more important
Than money.
The place closes in a couple more
Hours.
Want to order something else?
My treat?
I'll light every
Firework that I can find
For you.
Every ounce of you,
Including the parts
That you like to hide.
They deserve to be seen
And heard too.

The next second
Not to mention the next year
Isn't promised.
Although not the same
As overseas,
There is still reason to celebrate
The crackle of firecrackers,
The release of red lanterns,
To light the street of your heart,
As well as the sky.

We're not as young as we
Used to be.
But that doesn't mean that we have
To act like it.
The fire that courses
Through my lungs can't wait
To get out and roar
Like a dragon,
And break the silence
In celebration.

A red envelope wrapped in fire,
And sealed with the flash
Of prosperous smiles.
Every time I see you,
It feels like New Year's.
And when you kiss me,
My soul sizzles,
Stirring up this fire
That dances through my body.

The next second
Not to mention the next year
Isn't promised.
Tomorrow may not come.
If there ever was a time
To burn down and sweep up
Pieces of our old selves,
Why wait?
Falling asleep in your heart
is like déjà vu.
a place I’ve never been,
but it feels familiar at the same time.
I don’t mean to creep you out,
but I know every nook and cranny.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep,
but of all the places I could have,
I’m glad that I did here.

Your heartbeat,
the pulse that cracks
and settles like a house,
although not mine,
it feels like home,
like somewhere I belong.

I normally don’t fall asleep
in places I haven’t been.
It takes a while to get accustomed,
especially if it’s my first time there.
Although it’s déjà vu,
and it could be one of those things,
I’m already looking forward
to the next time
falling asleep somewhere in you,
somewhere warm,
somewhere I belong
The rain falls,
pounding into my chest.
After a while, it becomes wet.
It beats and throbs
between the drops.

The lightning cracks
and leaves its streak
a reminder of what it feels
like to love.

Trying to keep pace
with the water that keeps running,
swelling up without a drain.
There’s no escape
just wet skin,
bottled from the inside out.

The rain becomes everything
that it touches.
A storm,
drowning out all the noise around.
While the rain pours,
all I see is your silhouette
a wet slap to the veins
that swells and grows.

Thunder rumbles in the distance
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