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#queenofhearts
I danced around the willow tree, creating cloud shapes from my fantasy. When a white rabbit brushes past my ankle, he carried a gold watch—odd—it clinked as he ran. “I’m late! I’m late! for a very important date!” he shrieked. I laughed, a rabbit? a gold watch? How absurd. He saw me, pausing like I’d ruined the script, and bolted away into a hole. And I followed, because what else do you do when curiosity sings? It was no hole indeed, a cassette channel surfing. The fall was painless, oddly confusing. Time bent sideways, logic’s refusing. Clocks—just like the rabbit’s—ticking too loud. Just like my brain. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Which timezone, or timeline? Maybe a countdown. Who knows. Mirrors bloomed in the dark like wildflowers, All I could see was versions of me, in colors, in patterns, inside out, outside in. Each mirror shattered when I stared too long. Each shatter revealed a door with different dates, like an apartment number. I observed my reflection—finally, a normal mirror. But her eyes turned blood red, the glass breaking into laughter. Another door. I stepped through anyway, into the complex world that I am. The ground was a chessboard. The pieces were off. Pawns as people I’ve met. The queen is humming a melody only I know. The sky was a sunset of words of art I’d scribble. Spelling names I’d long forgotten. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours. Alas, I met the rabbit after an eternity. He was still in the late panic, “late for what?” I pressed. His ears bent like a curtain, stepping sideways, There she was, the queen of hearts, waiting for me. her smile too wide, too eerie. “There you are!’ she exclaimed. Teapots and teacups floating, with wings of butterflies. An odd teacup met me. The tea with the glitter of the galaxies. “Drink.” She mouthed. Her eyes held a sharp glimmer. I couldn’t determine if it was an offer or a command. Instead of sugar, it was stardust. And for the tea, the shimmer called, like a hymn. Soul-glitter. Thick like my blood. Bright as my marrow. It was me, reduced to a cup. The gears in my brain shifted, just like the rabbit’s clock. Perhaps, to know myself. I must swallow myself whole.
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Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 2:56 PM UTC
Wonderland
I danced around the willow tree, creating cloud shapes from my fantasy. When a white rabbit brushes past my ankle, he carried a gold watch—odd—it clinked as he ran. “I’m late! I’m late! for a very important date!” he shrieked. I laughed, a rabbit? a gold watch? How absurd. He saw me, pausing like I’d ruined the script, and bolted away into a hole. And I followed, because what else do you do when curiosity sings? It was no hole indeed, a cassette channel surfing. The fall was painless, oddly confusing. Time bent sideways, logic’s refusing. Clocks—just like the rabbit’s—ticking too loud. Just like my brain. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Which timezone, or timeline? Maybe a countdown. Who knows. Mirrors bloomed in the dark like wildflowers, All I could see was versions of me, in colors, in patterns, inside out, outside in. Each mirror shattered when I stared too long. Each shatter revealed a door with different dates, like an apartment number. I observed my reflection—finally, a normal mirror. But her eyes turned blood red, the glass breaking into laughter. Another door. I stepped through anyway, into the complex world that I am. The ground was a chessboard. The pieces were off. Pawns as people I’ve met. The queen is humming a melody only I know. The sky was a sunset of words of art I’d scribble. Spelling names I’d long forgotten. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours. Alas, I met the rabbit after an eternity. He was still in the late panic, “late for what?” I pressed. His ears bent like a curtain, stepping sideways, There she was, the queen of hearts, waiting for me. her smile too wide, too eerie. “There you are!’ she exclaimed. Teapots and teacups floating, with wings of butterflies. An odd teacup met me. The tea with the glitter of the galaxies. “Drink.” She mouthed. Her eyes held a sharp glimmer. I couldn’t determine if it was an offer or a command. Instead of sugar, it was stardust. And for the tea, the shimmer called, like a hymn. Soul-glitter. Thick like my blood. Bright as my marrow. It was me, reduced to a cup. The gears in my brain shifted, just like the rabbit’s clock. Perhaps, to know myself. I must swallow myself whole.
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Queen of hearts,hopeless poetry enhancers!
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Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
To the queen of hearts
Queen of hearts, atop your throne. Who stole your tarts? You’re all alone. No one to hurt, and no one to love. Wherever you flirt, death will certainly come. House of cards, but no one’s impressed. No knights or bards, for you to distress. You broke all those hearts, but they weren’t enough. Now you’re breaking apart, and I’m calling your bluff. A beautiful palace, for no one to see. The whispers of Alice, “You’ll never be free.” So young and so restless, alone with your head. Alice is headless, but you’re truly dead.
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC
Queen of Hearts
I’m no Alice in Wonderland, But I am more like the Cheshire Cat, They say I am more deranged Than the Mad Hatter’s hat, They say I can be quite rude Like the Queen of Hearts And like the March Hare I sometimes nervously fall apart, I’m no caterpillar Blowing smoke rings But I might as well be same to them all, Because I’m madly curious about things.
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Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Wonderland
The Queen of Hearts Lives in a castle of broken hopes and dreams And as she lies on her bed of memories She has one of her own She remembers back to the day Her own heart ran away It was stolen and never returned The King of Thieves they say Was the one to take her heart away That is why, to this day The Queen of Hearts Takes others’ The hearts of others who still have them If it wasn’t for the King of Thieves That one summer-turned-fall With falling leaves The Queen of Hearts might give her heart away Instead of taking others’ for prey But the King of Thieves had his own story to tell It is one of mystery and dark streets One of sorrow and relief He stole the Queen’s heart To give to his thieves So that they might one day believe That this is not how it’s supposed to be. m.c.c.
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
Queen of Hearts & King of Thieves