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Angie Nov 2024
If I stay a nervous bud
my full bloom will not encroach upon the grandeur of another
& I will invite no retribution
Though the artist in me knows
that a whole field in bloom
Pollinates the world.
Bloom with the artists.

If I stay silent
my words cannot be smithed into a weapon of censure,
and be used to cut me into smaller pieces.
Though the poet takes my words
& alchemises them
into an elixir for healing.
Speak with the poets.

If I smother my fire
I inspire no ire from neighbouring Suns
for whom my shine is a punishable theft of thunder.
Though a sister moon mirrors my light and illuminates the next.
Shine regardless.

If I stay in my armour
my vulnerability cannot become the missile launched at me
by the traitor who begged for my truth
Though an ally reveres my courage
and meets it with the honour of their own open heart.
Open, even though.
Lemon Black Nov 2024
That kind of longing you learn once you miss.
Goes by a name only a heart knows how to pronounce,
and doesn’t hesitate to call when you care to listen,
so it absorbs as it unfolds yours every ounce.

Of all the things, it’s absence that can’t be overcome,
a void of crushing torment you have to sustain
alongside hope that one day it will leave.
But that’s like hoping for a night of clear skies
that guides your way home in the middle of the storm.
You might as well sink. As there’s no burden
heavier than the love you can’t give.
A feeling that, once settled in, leaves you asking questions about the meaning of all of this, never hearing back, or worse - learning haphazard explanations. No matter the intention, indifferent to your plans, it’s always there. You know it’s there. Waiting for a dram of attention, ready to overflow you, to petrify your lungs, leaving you gasping for air fighting its waves adrift. A chasm of terrifying depth, frightening the eyes to avert, wanting to never look back. Yet, left unattended for too long hollows the interior with apathy, offering a coup de grace of sweet numbness one step ahead, out of reach, unless you’re willing to take it one step further. The small things come to the rescue, small wins: some chores, routines, comforting others. The clipping works, occasionally watering, but better not reach for the roots, definitely not unprepared.
Angie Nov 2024
Stoic pines are uprooting,
Careless rage
of an indifferent wind.
And when the nerves are exposed
It dies in spent shudder, to our stupefied awe and vulnerable repose.
Mahta Nov 2024
With a boat made of hope
I'll go sailing
In the search of love
If my heart gets wrecked and crushed
From the storm of empty promises
I'll bury it in the depth of my chest
like treasures from a shipwreck
For you to find it and peace it back together
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