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Alien Nov 2020
Darling one what have you done
Walking in a forest barefoot
You once wore the sun
But now your dimmer and just seem to run
You told me to be patient, to understand
But my moon, Why do you walk like your not coming back

I weeped for you
Deprived of energy, of hope
My love, you do not speak
hollow, like you cant swallow

My darling one, in the moment of finding your self i have lost mine..

And i weep under the moon that you so dearly seek on nights you so dearly rest
I never thought of you do be
An entity with red eyes
My heart trembles
Was it something i did?,
Desperate for you return
To hold me
Kiss me
Talk to me
Love me
But, i ended with a feeling of despair

And tomorrow my darling one,
On another cold night  
I will not weep
Ill take the bitter pill
And I will string my broken heart
In the dark
And wait in my sleep
My moon,
May we meet in another life.
Sarah Flynn Nov 2020
he was smiling
and we were laughing
and then he was gone.

there was a loud noise
that made my ears ring.
I didn't realize what
had happened, but
I knew it was bad.

I ran as fast as I could.
I didn't look back.

my legs burned
but I knew that I
had to keep running,
no matter what.

I burst through the
door to our apartment,
panting and crying.

my family stared at me
and it took me a minute
to understand why.

I went to wipe my tears
with the back of my hand,
and the liquid was red.

those weren't my tears.
that wasn't my blood.
the realization hit me
like one punch after another.

a random car had
pulled up next to us.
my friend's brother was shot.
I was standing next to him.
I ran. he wasn't behind me.

as my fear faded,
my memory became clearer.
the realizations that hit
my mind must have
punched my stomach too.
I was suddenly sick.

my ***** coated our kitchen floor
and my family took me into
our bathroom to clean myself up.

my friend and his brother
had known me since I was born.
I grew up with them.
I would continue growing,
but now he wouldn't.

I watched as his blood
blended with the water
in our apartment's shower.
I watched as it swirled
down the drain until
the red was all gone.

my last memory of
the kid I grew up with
is watching his blood swirl
down my shower drain.

it's been years since that day.
I've grown up. I moved out
of the city a long time ago.

it's over. he's gone.
there is nothing I can do,
and there was nothing
that I could have done.

but somehow, I still feel guilty
for washing him off of me.
Maura Oct 2020
There’s construction on the way to therapy
I detour my own way
Ignoring the glaring orange signs
I know better I think

Swerving in and out of neighborhoods
Not paying close enough attention
I’m keenly aware of bikers, animals and children in yards
I fear being the driver

I don’t know where I’m going but I end up at the office anyway
Twisting and turning until I just
Arrive

I tell her
I’m sorry but my thoughts won’t be linear
My brain is no longer working
Or at least not working like it was
Before things were logical,
linear
Straight
Frustratingly narrow
Packed up into wooden boxes
Splintering my hands when I try to move around

Now things are split open
Wrecked into a circle of pulp,
strips
sharp edges
disconnected

My thoughts roll out in many directions
Following things that are folded
Slinking
Out forward and backwards
And ultimately ending up back
Inwards

I know there’s no signs I can follow
I’m under construction
It will be a long time until
I see a freshly paved road
With a street and no bumps
Don't drive to therapy in a state of shock
Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
every 73 seconds
an American is sexually assaulted.
these statistics do not shock me anymore.
1 in 5 American women have been *****
at some time in their lives.
1 in 71 American men have been *****
at some time in their lives.
in an average year,
there are 433,648 reported
rapes in the United States.
these are only 2 of those stories.
_________


#1
it does not shock me
when my friend calls
and says that she
doesn’t remember
what happened,
but she woke up
lying in a puddle
of her own blood.

it does not shock me
when she’s sobbing
so loudly into
the phone that I
can’t make out any
of her words.

it does not shock me
that I don’t need to
hear her to know
what happened
last night.
I can hear the fear
in her voice.
I can feel her pain.
I already know.

it does not shock me
when I see her sitting
in my passenger seat,
and I automatically know
that she is not fully here.
she left a part of herself
there on that mattress.
looking over at her,
I know that right now,
she is beginning to realize
that she lost something
that she will never
be able to get back.

it should have been hers
to give away,
but it was stolen.
she is the 1 in 5.
_______


#2
it does not shock me
when we walk past
the Auntie Anne’s
in the mall,
and my friend
collapses at the smell
of cinnamon
and sugary pretzels.

it does not shock me
when he apologizes
over and over
and tells me that
he was *****,
and that his ****** was
chewing on a piece of
cinnamon-scented gum.

it does not shock me
that I am holding him
while he shakes and cries
on the floor of the mall.
I want to hug him tighter
and keep him close to me,
but I know that right now,
his mind is already gone.
he feels like he is still there.
he tells me that it feels
like they are hurting him
all over again.
I can’t hold him
tight enough
to bring him back.

it does not shock me
that he waited so long
to tell me this.
it does not shock me
when he says that
he didn’t think it
mattered because
he is a man,
because so many
people have told him
he should’ve liked it.

he does not tell them
his rapists were
six grown men
at one time,
but they wouldn’t
care even if he did.
he is the 1 in 71.
________


we now avoid parties
and pale blue bedsheets.
we never go past certain streets,
even though it adds
a few extra miles onto every trip.
we now avoid pretzel stands
and candy stores.
we never watch romance movies or films, even though almost every movie
has some kind of *** or kissing scene.

we are always aware of where we go,
and who we’re with,
and who knows that we’re going out, and
who knows where we’ll be if we do.

we avoid the things
that we once loved to do.
we avoid the places
that we once loved to go.

we are hyper-vigilant,
and we are cautious,
and we are careful
because we are scared.
we are all scared.

my friend is the 1 in 5.
my other friend is the 1 in 71.
I am the 1 in 5.

almost everyone I know
has a story like this.
this information may be shocking,
but not to us. not anymore.
it can happen anywhere
to anyone at anytime,
but we see it so often that I think
we’ve grown numb to it.

if you talk to a group of teenagers
and you tell them, “I was *****.”
they will not be surprised.
this is every day.
we are afraid every day.

know that this is not
just a collection of statistics.
these are your family.
these are your friends.
these are all people just like you,
with beating hearts
and lives to live,
and we are so much more
than just numbers on a list.
lua Sep 2020
it was like a shock
at first
like lightning strikes
in the silence of midnight
breaking through the calm
like a raging storm
that thrashed and hurt
in white-gold veins
harsh against the clouds
an electric current
that creeps into my blood
and settles in my chest
when i first saw you.
Zane Smith Sep 2020
in time,
we're vulnerable.
sitting and waiting
days pass
as we don't sit in class.
everyone around us
Fragile as glass.
Families hurt
Jobs on pause
While the news plays
more pain
everyday.
Lives gone
so fast
At the snap of a finger.
The world froze
as we search for hope.
Charlotte Ahern Sep 2020
as i sat in the decadence

of that New York moment

i knew i was in trouble

for the depth of my love

was darker than the red i sipped
realisation can be a hard pill to swallow at times
Bhill Aug 2020
the silence will shock and the world will rock
when we all can go out and play
the world will be new and a lot less askew
so **** it and stay out all-day

Brian Hill - 2020 # 235
Jenie Aug 2020
Windstorm blowing through
suspending the days
Irish summer ending I shiver
at the darkness spreading
the white wisp morphing into black cloak

The fig tree stands branches wild
new sprouts shaking
second season raspberries
crushed on the wall
the tomato vine falls heavily to the ground

Sprigs jerking I sway
trunk holding fast until it fractures
I collapse and the fruits splatter
sap leaking I wipe my cheeks
flustered by my syrupy hands I stare

a sound a shout I straighten
the burgeons call
Storm Ellen, pandemic and bad news. The burgeons are my children.
Brian Yule Aug 2020
Gazing down
I see this dull blade drew blood
Dial blind as ache lulls
Defy ease as life oozes free
Don’t lie down
Don’t sleep
Keep fear sharp
As faint creeps the soothing deep
Passions eked
Awareness do not forsake me
Come on
Come on
Answer
I stare vague at the mess where my wrist used to be
Which emergency?
Ambulance please
Consciousness bleeds
I wake with cool linen covering me
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