Lure Pot Dec 6

You're breaking my heart
still then I am silent
You're making me tired
but I'm not worried
If you just feel like
I love you, sweetheart!

You don't care about me
but I still love you
You don't think of me
even then I miss you
If you just feel like
I'm there inside your heart!

I walk around and see you
if you ever look at me
I sing at midnight
if you ever listen to me
I'm doing well ‍so that I feel like
you're not falling apart.

If you ever feel like
I am not missing you
If you ever feel like
I am not crying for you
then you think about me
I am no more in this world
and just pray for my departed soul.

Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal 
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw 
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via 
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst 
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
 
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the 
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such 
shrubbery mimicking likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus 

wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away 
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible 
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed 
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist 
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast, 

where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis 
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous 
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of 
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly 
authentic rooted ready to frolic in grass menagerie, 

a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts 
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid 
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.

lorenz coleen Nov 26

you used to accompany me home and while we talked about
my friends or your friends or anything at all, you had
this habit of shoving your hands in your pockets and
looking away with a cheeky smile, you said you’re only like that
with people you really like, so i guess you really liked
me, and guess what, billy john, i really liked you, too

once we separated ways, a river of cars would flow
and i’d throw one last glance at you before leaving for home
as steps encouraged the distance between us you would
watch my figure disappear amongst the shadows of the busy cars
we were like that for years, and for each day something was
different, like my hair, your jeans, my accessories, your lucky charm

we were like that for years, and for each day something was
different, like your smile, my alright, your attention, my reassurance
we both knew that we were slipping away but we couldn’t let us
know because there was just too much to let go of, or perhaps
there were too many memories, but let me tell you that
i saw you with a girl, across the river of flowing cars
your head turned away and your hands in your pockets
i guess you really like her, billy john, and no longer me

this time, i was the one watching you disappear amongst the shadows

First of all, Billy John sounded like a cool name when I was writing this. Second, I wrote this when I couldn’t fall asleep (which is surprising after all the times that I slept too much). Third, I hope you can picture the scene.

Have a great day, eat well, live wild.
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