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Valerie Dec 2018
On this weird evening all i can think of is you and all the things that we've missed out on, it's like i have stopped it all for you and don't even know how to begin again. My mind is not at rest even when i tell myself how foolish i am to keep longing for you. In all this i still feel hope and i feel something more. You are ordinary but i see you extraordinary.
                     On The Night Where The Air Stands Still In Waiting; The Sky Is Bleak And Misses The Stars, Loneliness Becomes Inevitable. Even The Presence Of Humans Can't Shake Away The Persistent Feeling Of The Absence Of Someone So Important. Loud In The Ears Are Sounds But No Connection; The Mind Is Screaming Into An Endless Tunnel And Only Echoes Are It's Reply.
                    Even With The Thoughts And Visual Image, There's No Change In It's Stance, Yearning And Craving Seems Endless, Swirling In To An Unknown Destination With No Idea Of Moments Passing; It's One And Only One Need, It's Reached The Zenith, Now Restlessness Is Company. 
                     The Mind And The Heart Concurrently Sends The Same Message To The Brain, Asking For Solutions For It's Turmoil. In This Distance Of Affection, All And  Everything Around Seems Appalling.
                     It's strange how i still think about the possibilities, i only hope to myself that i am not mad or going mad. There times when i miss you like rain for expectant Farmers, then i go mad at you for little reasons and decide that enough is enough. Then i try with all of my will to neglect you but it's something i can't do, cause my heart reminds me of you and so does my prayers.
We can't sometimes control where our heart goes
Shannon Aug 2016
There is a funeral pyre
that I built as I walk.
A parade of orange flames
down the street,
blue centers lapping like
still trying to get my attention.
But I left my long ago heart in that red hot
and I let that ache burn
with the a wooden residue
that lies thick on
all my clothes
and the tongue where
I kissed you.
I left the love, I left the lover
but, Oh! the embers wear me round my neck like a necklace glisten in the sun
and ashes keep repeating in the cyclone of the wind about the fire.
I lit a break,
Struck a match to patch the hole.
And everywhere I go I am the mourner and the deceased.
Outliving the unlivable after all.

Shannon Aug 2015
i worry in tenses.
past, present and future
to stave off the huntsman whose after my head.
dire regrets are no more of a reaper
than the incubus lying still under my bed.
it's not the long shadow that
quickens my heartbeat
it's who he belongs to frightens me so.
not what i acknowledge
that gives me cold blood chills
it's all of the lovers i'll have to forego.
Cerberus came once to settle my debtor
handing him payment, i'm awful contrite.
for now one can love me
and no one can mourn as i'm
burdened to love him in black hematite.

Sahn 08/10/15
Shannon Apr 2015
i watch his magic trick
in the morning by the sink
with the crunch of the blade
he goes from monster to man...
with the sleek silver rake
he goes from mine only
to the all the worlds.
and i am jealous of the world
my eyes watch him
as he clears the charming stubble
and tames the wild curls.
and i peek at his belly,
soft and pale
with sprouts of hair
like a man jungle.
and i watch him
with the cottoniest of cottons
ironed and pressed
shirt like a gift wrapped tight-
edges and clean lines.
i close my eyes and inhale
because next i will smell his smell.
and keep them closed
for him to lean over
and kiss me goodbye.
i don't want to hear the door close
but it does.
and i watch the hands as they
and i watch that **** door that let
him go
become the door that brings him back home.

Thank you as always for being such a wonderfully supportive group of amazingly talented artists that take the time to share in my work.
Shannon Apr 2015
It all spins
gravitational pull
and I-
astronaut distance
orbit it sadly.
My only regret-
out in the black nothing
is not feeling my back
against brick
one more time.
Push me against
the cold and cutting
and kiss me with your
hands by my head.
Ever so cleverly
holding the wall-
holding the world.
Holding out on me.
As I tumble,
astronaut girl
and look at the blue beneath my toes
my only regret is
not learning how fly that kite.
Learning how to ride currents
with colorful
So very stuck, was I,
on all of the moons
That I never took
to dragons with tails
or red and black scales
and days taken hostage
and grass that can lasso
and pull me in earthbound.
Now I am anchored to nothing and watch
as the blessed and foolish dance at weddings
and funerals
and I watch from above.
Astronaut, I am
my only regret is that
all of this time
I've spent farming the stars
I never did learn
to correctly love you.

Sahn 4.13.15
thank you for sharing in my work. i explore isolation and loneliness in this piece
Shannon Apr 2015
You will learn my rhythm
and lean in when I talk-
The smell of me like petrichor perfume
will linger on your shirt.
Feel of my lips like
satin ties
of the ballerinas shoes
will wind
around your mind
and tie across the gooseflesh
on your arms.
You will know I have come
before my hand
lifts to knock,
and your heart will quicken-
echo percussion against the chambers.
You will remember
the last wet place
we walked with one umbrella.
And when it rains
you will fill buckets with longing
to fit our slick bodies
underneath its black shelter
You will knot your tie
and straighten your collar
and your body will stiffen
because it remembers.
You will have a track mark
like the silver needle bullet
chasing through your veins-
that recalls us.
Like tongue recalls salt,
like  wound
recalls harm-
like child recalls
before being born-
like the prayer remembers
before being sung.
like the rock will recall that the ocean was there
and the cell will recall being painlessly split
and you will remember
with such vivid lust
and you will love in a timeless loop.
And I will love you over and under.
We will love till we're small again,
Love as time resets again
And then do it all once more,

Sahn 4.10.15
I think of this as the story of lovers being reincarnated again and again and getting to fall in love all over each life. Thank you for sharing in my work.
Shannon Apr 2015
What day was it, exactly
when you asked?
I'd never thought
not that far out:
I want to sit by the mountainside.
Hear the brook every morning-
gather up river stones
build up a path.
Drive an old chevy truck.
With radio made for blasting.
I want a moonroof and plenty
of stars in the sky.
I want to see faraway places.
Hear funny voices say funnier words.
I want to visit-then
I want to come home.

To you.

I want to cook like they do in NY
And garden
and pick pretty flowers.
To grow older
and watch
as my babies grow old.
I want to visit  pyramids.
Buy trinkets at Parisian stores.
I want to see Venice-
make my way  
thru watery streets.
But then
I want to come home.

To you.

To that mountain.
by that creekside.
Feed the squirrels and watch red robins.
Write under a tree.
I might want to go west-
Drive down highways fast
stay up in Vegas,
Wear sparkly dresses.
Drink pricey champagne
close to the bay. Any bay
will do.
I want to find light in the India bustle
and color in Ireland's green
and then,
I want to come home.
I want four corners and
I'd love seven wonders,
But still-
I'd want to come home.

To you.

thank you.
Shannon Apr 2015
I'm difficult and broken
-and not at all difficult and broken in that oh-im-so-difficult-and-broken-beautiful way that some women can be.
I'm just difficult and broken in all the **** ways it manifests.

sahn 4/10/15
Thank you
Shannon Apr 2015
I can lose you in the crowd-
I can lose you in a train of thought.
I can lose you to the errant sock
the wallet left on a table,
that last marble down the vent.
I can send you down the wrong path
send you packing-
send for your belongings.
Send you away.
I can deliver you safely.
Deliver you to the doorstep
Sign off on your delivery.
I can get carried away by you.
Carry your grudge.
Carry the weight of the relationship.
I can blow off to the westerly wind
Blow up, Low blow.
Blown away.
I can mark the days
The mark of the beast
market day and slip away.
But I can't remember how to not love you.
Can't remember how to stop hope.
How to turn off faith.
I can't remember how not to look for you
in the crowd-
how to not listen for your laugh or your key in the lock.
I could lose you-
but I could not ever resist you.
and that's really the thing about it, isn't it?
Only one of these sentences matters.
Just one.
sweet, simple.
Shannon Apr 2015
He lies next to me in the big red bed,
hair in patches
and smooth in circles.
An elbow propped that holds up his head
as he gazes and traces
the letters of the alphabet on my
places of the universe.
And he sighs deeply
as he throws down his head
as if to say,
Giving up. I'm giving up on this
and I think,
On us? Or just giving in-
but I don't say
because the conversation is the
most beautiful I ever heard.
-And the man wiggles and flops
like a child
with energy coursing out of his fingertips.
He loves me.
Such a simple act.
Love is such a simple act.
Hate he says, takes 'energy he don't have'-
and like is just warmed up soup.
'Love is easy, mother girl
love is easy... be easy back.'
In the big red bed, I trace the veins in his arms
to see where they'll lead me.
They never led me where I expected them to go.
it's Sunday, in this big old bed.
'The sun's up, gonna go to church
and pray for sins of the moon.
We'll just stay in these hot red sheets and pray right there.
might make more-'
And he says with a snakes slow rhythm,
'It's Sunday,
everybody knows Sundays were made for redeeming.'
and there is quiet throughout the house.
and the world left us for just these few.
See that beautiful color?
Umm hmm.
We are up to the good things,
the touching things- the things we need to be forgiving for.
We are up to things that shut off the world
And we swim in these sheets
and we become red.

sahn 3/29/15
thank you for sharing in my work.
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