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Haley Lana Dec 2023
Clovers in the cold autumn air -
Alive for now and unaware
Of winter on its way.
No four-leaved luck
Can keep the muck
Of rainy days at bay.
I envy them, their mindless bloom,
The way they know not of their doom,
Of snow beneath which they'll rest.
For I know my approaching frost,
The summer bliss came with a cost,
And soon the crows will lose their nest.
It smothers me - the thought
That all efforts were for naught,
And I remain in this alone.
This cursed knowledge in my chest,
Claws at my soul without rest;
Poisoned veins, flesh, and bone.
The evening wind gives me chills,
Yet I'm impassive as these hills -
The physical can't hurt me now.
For my heartache is much stronger,
Its freezing cold lasts far longer
Than any weather knows how.
I care to deeply - that's my cross -
Then pay dearly for each loss;
My foolish heart cannot quit.
I can only hope to leave a mark
In your memory a tiny spark
Of the fire we once lit.
(for G.)
Unpolished Ink May 2023
That mournful longing feeling
so sweet and yet so sad
wistful for a something
you probably never had
A Jul 2022
Waves of sadness as you wave in my direction. I see you go, I watch you leave. Just as the seasons appear and dispose of me. We take turns walking away, from people we never talked to. Wondering why it hurts the same. Hating that it hurts as all of these people go. Sudden realisation hit us one by one. As we wonder, and walk, and wonder around all the topics we may have avoided. The thoughts we’re apparently devoid of. Introspect, retrospect, dissect ourselves in this critical moment. Nostalgia knocking us over making us think and  making us feel, for once. A remarkable feat, it must be applauded. Ovation, overjoy, overwhelm. Over this. Over them. Over it. Time moving so agonisingly slowly, wishing away the years. Needing to escape, yet wanting to eternalise the way they make me feel. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe you should’ve, yet you didn’t. Now you’re all that’s left tell me how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even seem right. Yet it’s a must and a miss you. The question has to be asked: why are you crying now? After all these months, why are you letting it hit now? Stay strong, be strong, be you. Be fearless and young. The golden years fade away into shades of blue and black skies. I wish you all well, and a happy birthday. Get well soon, get there soon. It’s all getting to me too soon. It’s too soon. How are we already here? We were all the way over there yesterday. Faces flash and second pass by with smiles. Frowning back, the question must be asked, why are you so sad?
Written on the final day of college.
Annie Setter Dec 2021
You step outside of the moment like a misty window bystander with your hood up and your hand warmers that you’ll put in your scrapbook so as to bless and keep this memory all your days.
Sift out the sound waves as you watch the dancing silhouettes of the good old days
Bringing tears to your eyes as you remember that someday this’ll be in a box wrapped and taped scotch-like for you to look at and think how lucky we were.
But right now you’re pulling all your best strings to carve out scrawled negatives on the glass before the condensation of your breath fades fades away.
Oh doesn’t it remind you, dear,
That we live in the awareness of fleeting moments rather than the moments themselves?
That we only put the remaining numbers of seconds on our dance cards and not let our time with fullness instead take our hands and waists?
That we scrounge for the film that we can Mary Poppins jump into on the other end of a short while instead of running the risk of forgetting by ripping open the gift of the instant we have been personally given by God?

Don’t let it pass you by because
Even though it’s only out the train window if you
Let it permeate your heart forever that’s the
Only way you can keep it in your pocket during your walk towards eternity.
Ema Dec 2021
like a deer drinking from a stream
in the clearing
I am clearing
time away
I am the wolf
amongst women
I am a jar
half full
I am residue
on the sink edge
dusty, smudged
I watch people on trams
I watch people on buses
I don't smile
I watch the deer drinking
I play with my hair
I stare
I am the wolf
from afar
I am
I am waiting
for the clearing to wilt
and stream to dry up
I watch the deer
I am
Zeynep Çiçek Aug 2021
I follow footsteps I've never treaded
And go where I always wish I'd visited
When my time comes to a close
I sit and watch the water

I listen to whispers that were never for my ears
That live not in reality but in my ears
Phantom touches that leave me breathless
They drown in the water

I remember laughter rolling in the night grass
Whose memory retains it no longer
And as I mourn the friend I wonder
I sit by the water

My heart breaks to pieces
As I sit by the water
I'm leaving to study abroad soon.
Norman Crane Apr 2021
existence is naught
but skin between the moments:
wasp alights / wasp stings
Norman Crane Feb 2021
I've got more scars than memories
but they heal just the same
I've walked too far without looking back
to find my way home again
Swan Songs Jan 2021
In a simpler time
I watched a raging fire
As it swallowed every home
All except my own

With the passing years
New houses appeared
While mine began to fade
Crumble and decay

Today I returned
To the street that burned
One empty block lay bare
Where my home used to stand

I felt suddenly compelled
To rebuild what time had felled
A house of stone and clay
That time could not erase

I came home alone
To a house I didn’t know
I touched the wooden walls
The space felt cold and small
It smelled of childhood
And I thought of firewood
big sleeper Jan 2021
has it really been thirteen years
since we dreamed of the city surrounded by cornfields

19 was a different lens
hot august evenings staring at the stars
on the rockslide in the quarry by your father's house
where we drifted deeper into love and ardor

in the heat of an endless summer,
the unflinching drift towards new romance and dreams of
marriages and sacred vows and well,
where did it all lead us, and where are we now?

in interceding years came new flames and hurricanes
and always those roads turned back towards you, didn't they
i sat for you for your paintings and i fell more and more
in love with someone whose heart could never let me stay

now, what have we come to, and what have we learned?

32 a new lens with clearer eyes and
i surmise now that i knew not where that road would go
i kept the promise that i'd made, just in a different way
past the barns and the long highways i'd dreamed of with you

glacial, time continues on
and memories are fleeting but fond

has it really been thirteen years
since i knew the joy of you
a short piece for a first love in memory. this sort of sprung to life after reading a ~2007 poetry collection i'd done in college and i wondered "what if i revisit some of this with the lens of being more than a decade removed from it?" - and i like the gentleness of the overall piece, too. it felt pleasant to be vulnerable here.
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