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Louise Nov 11
My heart has had enough
My mind had its final run
But my body
Oh god, my body,
My poor body...
It remains unsullied, untouched

Years have passed
and the past have yearned,
spells were cast
and lessons are learned.
Still, my body remains hungry
It remains still, and it's still at rest
Still, it's been at rest painfully
I remain unfed, receiving only less
And it wants to run, climb and fly
it wants to bleed, shed and cry

My body;
not only does it ask me for more,
but it demands the most.
It asks me to tour down the earth's core,
commands me to find what's lost.

The exhaustion
The falling
The soreness
The failing
The bouts of pain
The flying...

Everything my heart has fought with,
everything my mind has battled with,
my body wants every taste,
craves every punch and hit.
It craves some kind of feigned balance,
it craves a round of some dangerous dance

Yet I wait
I wait for nature to grant me the green light.
I wait for the stars to lull me into the night.
I wait for the trees to give me some reason.
I wait for the moon to pull me into seasons.

Oh it's for sure a delicate time.

For me and you both.
I am dangerously insatiable.
Av Oct 15
as if a breathe of fresh air
I saw you on the olive stream
a haze of bendy trunks and quiet
not knowing where the roots will cling,
but it travels the soil nonetheless

now, to hold you at dusk and dawn,
in the gaps between the tree crowns,
a robust engine in a tender, muted forest

I hum to the echo of a whispering twitch

and as you run from edge to edge
I wait for you at the center
tumbledry Aug 30
crystallize your sweet affection
let it be our kind connection
salt drops drip from cheeks so pink
a not sure smile quivering
lifes not as sweet as we think
for trouble seems to find our street
a bond so far and weathered down
a bit of sunshine could help us now
thoughts so scrambled mind is weak
it seems your heart grows out of reach
Mark Wanless Aug 12
i bow at the alter in
the church of imperfection
and pray softly here again
in storm of life confusion
Keah Jones Jun 24
She is now all elbows and bird limbs
Eating her ever smaller
Hearing her cry in the night ****** nails on a chalk board
I want to hold her help her
Be the rescue swimmer in her ocean of tears
Holding for I am soft
Her daughter no fine specimen
A coward
A softy
Not once did she hold me
In seventh grade when I had my first kiss and he broke up with me for the girl with blonde hair and bangs
She said I was just too young
In eighth grade I fell in lust with a high school boy for the first time and ended it when I got bored but not before I gave him what i thought symbolized love.
I didn't tell her
In 9th grade I fell in love with a boy that would never be able to love me the way I wanted him to. But I stayed  for four years until I couldn't find any more of myself to break off and give to him.
She told me I would get over it.
I have a mother who the world made cold
And she had a daughter that felt too much
who she taught feeling was a waste of time
Maggie Georgia Nov 2022
I forget that reading week
Has a hold on me
Five fingers wrapped around my throat
Holding me under
Under the sheets
Trapped in my head
Fighting myself
And the thoughts that bubble over after being hidden for so long
Are deafening
tumbledry Sep 2022
Boring was never a word to describe her
She was unique and exotic
Hair falling below her *******
Bangs tickling the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose
Her eyelashes swooped outward
Trapping anyone brave enough to meet her heated gaze
Her shoulders draped in the softest of silk
Blouse pulled taught and fitted into her belt.
Top button undone leaving the smallest sliver of skin begging to be touched.
Her hips swayed to the beat of her slacks
Making swishing noises as her thighs
Soft and plump rubbed the pant seams
stepping on her tippy toes to avoid the clickety clacks usually emitted from her signature well worn combat boots
She was far from boring
I S A A C Sep 2022
haunted by your presence
your imprint in my powder
stamped on my heart forever
everything reminds me of you
I wish you didn’t matter
can’t even see pictures of me
without relating them to how you used to be
changed the way i see
pivotal in my evolution, delusional since rejection
been off the market, been on the grind
been second guessing
my part in the tragic fall, maybe i am not such a victim after all
maybe i am not so young and dumb after all
maybe i am better off
Mrs Timetable May 2022
Your voice
Deep soft tone
Is a comfort
Puts me to rest
The man voice
I never had
As a child
To read to me
Or even miss
Now I have my own
Who knew how badly
I needed this gift
One of my favorite things is when he reads to me
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