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My heart burns without presence

Your mouth says my name and voice still sounds the same

The inner damsel in me fights way through my flesh

Leading her by glow of all the potential I set on fire

My hot skin itches for touch while yours is soothed by a thick coat of reassurance

Is medicated by unwavering dose of devotion

My wound so raw and pain so sharp knives flee in fear of injury

My blood screaming for recognition

Like how many drops must be spilled for you to acknowledge I'm dying?

How many cuts appear before you notice I'm not well?

Hell
At this point begging for my tissue to be pulled in two directions and a massive amount of sodium chloride poured in
Would relish the agonizing
Unpredicted sting
Because at least that means I can tell you know I'm not alright

You seem to understand exactly where to rub the salt in
Not where to bandage
Written 6-19-19
Abi Winder Oct 7
salt seas
and cold nights.

narcotics atop sand:
your bellied laughter,
a little dry gin,
the rising sun warming our faces as it wakes the world.

and here with you,
maroon painted and
drunkenly dancing around words,

everything seems so
light.
Emery Feine Oct 5
"I am a part of you,"
Is what I say to the waves below
My eyes, the same shade of blue
As the ocean's tide glows

I taste the salt in my mouth
As it drips from my swollen eyes
The same salt in the whale's spout
That in which the ocean lies

From the lighthouse I watch the rocky shore
And my eyes leak more and more
What more could I want of me
Than to be part of that glimmering sea?

I do not even exist anymore
As I sprint across the rocky shore
I collapse into the shimmering sea
Because a part of them is a part of me

The townspeople call me crazy
I'll prove them all wrong one day
I still taste the salt in my mouth
I think I am fading away

The sun is setting on the beach
And salty tears are running down my face
I connect my tears with the water
And disappear without a trace

Stars appear in the night sky
Reflecting on the sea's blue
Below the waves, you'll find me lie
Am I finally a part of you?
this is my 124th poem, written on 9/10/24. this was originally submitted to the Salty September poetry competition :)
Through history many things have
     Been used as money.  These also
          Had other uses.  Homes, tobacco
               Salt, gold, beads, shells, feathers.
                    We’ve never had just pure money
                         Which is also scarce and portable.
                              Therefore
               ­          Let’s use a money that acts only
                    As money, not a commodity that
               Is sometimes money and other
          Times used as something else.  
     Bitcoin is pure money, and also
Scarce, portable, and divisible.
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery113PureMoney.html
And Yours?
Tell the world your story
Share all of your experiences
Working in that type of job
For 7 long ******* years
It wasn’t bad or good
It was what it was
A bit of everything
All thrown together
Life death in-between
There was music and song
Books and stories
Film and video
Each to their own
We endure differently
My trip is mine
What is yours?
Gabrielle Jun 2
My sad is copper sulfate,
A blue shriek in my sternum,

A pressure frame inside me,
Too far away to burn him.

Leave my sad to crystallise,
Please just keep your distance.

Through my stalagmites of sorrow
Take the line of least resistance.

I carve companions from the rock,
Each one a salty clone.

I’ve made societies down here
To sit with my alone.
Perhaps it’s to exercise jaws
But a naughty porcupine gnaws
On handles of wood,
So salty and good,  
But they’d prefer popcorn to saws.
She buys a torn and faded map
All the continents are misshapen
The rivers smudged.Her faith is
inexhaustible. So here I am,
the bridge she will never cross.

The cataratic mapmaker rubbing his
eyes knowing only one route.

I stand on the other side
watch her put on a mask
so we will know exactly

how she feels, watch
her turn away
with map in hand

watch her
as she gets
smaller
and smaller.

I am on the otherside,
sitting on a chair,
in an empty room

in an abandoned house,
the windows have been boarded shut.

With my finger I erase
the ring of water
left behind by her glass.

It is true that I loved

her.  I am gaunt
and my ribs are showing.


copyright c.a. leibow 2007
Published in Rat Fink Review
Malia Apr 21
i meander at the
depths of rock bottom stumbling
upon newfound grace and
gratitude.

the spiking stone all around
is dull to the eyes but makes
the ever-blue sky
come alive.

when i reach up to
touch it, i know that
i am too small to caress
those faint cotton candy
wisps.

but in my dreams,
i greet the sunrise by
perching on the shoulders
of those who dare to rise
above.
A vegetable sufficiently boiled
And buttered and salted and oiled
Can taste just like meat
Off a parakeet
Or platypus flambéed then broiled.
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