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Harry Kelly Jan 10
Goodbye Bottle Bandit

What a face she had . Shaped like a heart with a heart shaped mouth
with the most beautiful head of hair
you ever saw.
underneath it all a fragile, beautiful soul
She was funny
she was classy.
She was smart
She was the kind of woman who would force homemade cheesecake on you
and things us swamp Yankees had  never heard of - like artichoke gnocchis
She was mine for a while,
or I was hers
you could never really own  a girl like that.
And I know she loved me.
But Jim beam and jack Daniels were the real men in her life
Only now do I understand
Something I could never understand
Something nobody should understand
How a girl Buddy Cianci  once said was the most beautiful girl in Providence
Died alone sitting upright on a couch.
One of her men in her hand.

There were men in the past who are used her and  abused her
I don’t wish them ill
but I don’t wish them well
She once said  that her mother was her only friend
I said “what about me?”
What about you? She said.
I’m your friend .
No, you’re my man .
I was proud to be .
Until those two southern boys edged me out.

Truth is I’ll never understand
Neither does  her mother
I hope nobody understands .
I don’t wanna live in a world where people understand that kind of thing .
Bottle bandit .
My bottle bandit.
His magnetic ocean orbs
Uniform a pulchritudinous corbina
The sapphire and lapiz mix
Parellel falling into a piscena

His arms enveloping me
As we repose into the twilight
We never felt more free
Then I a lady, and he my knight

His charismic, enlightening smile
Parents, nowhere in sight
Living a life of sacchrine exile
Just him, myself, and the moonlight

Fireworks alluminate the sky
As we sit in gentle silence
That night on the 5th of July
Eyes glittering like diamonds

Fuming in bittersweet envy
Is the man in the moon staring down on us
My head on his shoulder lying gently, he stares
Feelings of jealousy, for our everlasing love

Our spirits in perfect concord
Shadowing all that we are
The owls cooing harmlessly
Akin the beating of my heart

Sitting beneath that willow tree
On a bench on the precipice
Where we first fell in love
Beneath those branches, pendelous

The waves beating softly
Gripping the sandy shores
Those stones kicking up the water
That crashed against them evermore

The salty scent of the of the breeze
The aquamarine surges
That span accross the ceaseless seas
Our eyes flickering to the night surfurs

The glittering, flamboyant stars
Begging for our attention
Yet nothing can rip our gaze apart
Both our heartbeats in suspension

His hand grasping my chin
Imploring to my tainted lips
His soft ones beseeching to meet mine
Pledging unity in sealing our first kiss

No god above us
Could tell us we were wrong
No hell that awaited us
Could end this siren song

The melody of our everburning souls
Merging into all that we ever were
Nothing could stop our torrid passion
On that Rode Island cliff, above the shore
Scott Hamsun Feb 2017
If you see me on the steps,
of the tattered old church,
perhaps I have made a little progress.
Dunwich is a tough place to live,
but the folklore is rich.
In fact, if indeed I am sitting along the steps,
I would be right near a witch and a vampire,
a few ghosts,
and a revival of my spirit.
Scott Hamsun Jan 2017
This small ocean side where we'd run play and hide is slowly becoming alone.
I wish I could go back and see all my friends the sailboats are calling me home.

Ive cherished the hours my tree skin and flowers,
the worldwide stage show makes me whole,
never did I think Id leave all the lights on under the sun-shining nights.

On a cold springtime night keeping eyes on the sight,
the bridge has been lit up again,
I stood in my tower for more than an hour ,
with a friend who would soon leave my side.

The cold winter nights and the hot Christmas lights,
The bugs that fly through the air.
the pallet is made with the games we had played on that frozen lake on the saddest days of the new year.

The leaves started falling and fish started flying ,
I always remember that day,
the corn maze is new and the pumpkins are strewn,
and there in the leaves I could stay.

— The End —