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Millie 7h
I just wanted someone to hold me “without an ounce of selfishness”  
But as I lay there, falling asleep, his sweet caresses teetered towards that of greed
It wasn’t much, most would call it innocent- some might think it cute
But for me it changed everything
I could no longer lay down my defenses and fall asleep in his arms
I could no longer wake and be enamored by his face
His lips could speak the same words that once sent butterflies swirling within me only to awaken feelings of disgust, shame, and pity
For I had let myself think he was untouched by the world
And my reality was tainted
Call it Quicksilver-
something I hold to,
leave and return to,
lose in dark leaves;
never quite keeping,
thoughts flit, and are fleeting,
covered with sheaves.
Sleep, and its missing,
ne'er to return;
Hold! Feel its kissing,
overtake with its burn-
late to my tongue,
but one part of the sum,
sifted like rays in the afternoon sun.
Call it Quicksilver-
that thing dreamt at mid-day;
call for it, longing-
but its gone;
slipped away.
Have you met her?
The girl whose thoughts—
are kept hidden in her bright neurons.
The lady whose character—
is concealed deep in her bone marrows.
The woman whose actions—
are disguised at the tip of her fingers.
Tell me.
Tell me about her.
LRF 2d
We shot early
before the earth
thawed completely
from the late winter frosts.

Instead of tentative tendrils
we were bold:
thick stems, verdant foliage.

We grew rushing,
always up
from the vines encircled low.
We spoke of
reaching beyond
our purple blooms
flush with one another’s.

Blame the seed sower:
not far enough below, not sturdy enough roots.
Or the wires we slipped,
when we would not be trained against the lattice.
But we know the weight
of another like us
was too much
for a stalk so flimsy
in a garden bed so starved.
September, 2020
Angel 2d
“’ll still be around in the earth, the wind & the stars.”
A blip from my journal
Angel Dec 2019
On days like these
When the sharp air of the night
Matches the happenings of the day
I feel as though this is what it means to live
To really feel life

The pure joy of the moment with laughs so genuine & innocent
The laughter after a cry because you know it’s going to be okay
The feeling of embracing the unknown & faith
The feeling of heartache & scarcity of love but feeling okay

One of those nights to feel the air & know you’ll see the stars if you look up
We believe in external world
We perceive images
Images interact with images
Changing the reality
Thinking objectively with our images
Stone age to modern age
we evolved successfully
What else we need as proof
Images reflect reality in physicality
Our thinking is more or less objective
Evidenced by the extant order
Otherwise, there would be
all round anarchy
Aberrations do occur
No need for painting
gloomy pictures that we live in images
Distorted by the subjectivity of individuals
We believe in external world
We perceive images
Valid, valid images
True reflection of reality!
Views antithetical to those expressed in this poem are more popular with people who love poetry. Happiness joins hands with sadness and melancholy is the winner!
s 2d
the love she once hadーburned.
(stomped into the ground. she never want to remember it)
hatred brimmed her entirety.
(she couldn’t help it. was it the harsh reality or was it just her true self?)
life leaking out of her.
(it’s not like she really wanted to live to begin with)
will she be okay? never.
(because basking in sadness is still much easier than soaking in the reality she’s stuck with)
pain too near, too often; clouding her every being
(but still, it’s all too painful, too familiar. everything she had sworn to avoid eventually drop into her lap. all at once. it’s like they played a sick joke on her.)
Dawn breaks open new revelations like geodes in my mind
and they sparkle with amazement at this previously unearthed way of thinking
deep seated in deep caves of thought processes
unchanged over a lifetime
I finally found the light
and it’s funny that I was the one hiding it all this time
back seat divers
breathing second hand oxygen
delirious from the fumes
one can only assume
I am the dying child of the fatal father internal,
I am the nourished child of the master and mother in me,
Once I was the starving child who was robbed of memories eternal,
But now I have found new life within the nectar of duality.

I am a dweller upon the wistful waves, uncertain,
I am estranged from the feeling of family,
My mind is but the dancing dust upon a wafting curtain,
This is mine, my naked bounty and nature's stark reality.
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