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 Sep 2014 Tark Wain
Becca Brown
raw
 Sep 2014 Tark Wain
Becca Brown
raw
i thought once that Hell was a pain i could
face for you
for you

For you, I will leave it behind.

to step out of the fire and into the black nothing
nothing

Nothing is all that is left of
us
me

left of it
 Sep 2014 Tark Wain
circus clown
you said it was the weather
when i asked why it is i'’m so cold
what you forgot to mention is
that it was the middle of the
summer and whether or not you
would be back by the time fall hit

well, fall hit and the leaves
crunching beneath my shoes sound
like door slams and i stay up thinking
if you weren’t around to hear it;
did it really happen?
you don’t call the next day and
i know for sure it happened

you say i should move on,
i picked the boy with your fingers
and spent the night thinking about the
way he would look on top of me
and spent the morning hoping you
couldn’t read minds,
because mine wasn’t on yours
this time and im sorry,
you say you will call and i think about
the way winter will hit without you around
to see, because it's happened but
this time it won't leave bruises
She does not know how she looks unless I picture her through my words....
unless she stares in my eyes,and my eyes traces her beauty...
If only mirrors weren't there,the world would have been sheer beautiful...
and the words would have gained a deference attention,
and stillness of water would have got more reflections...
and paintings would not have just smeared colors,
It would have textured the life...
 Sep 2014 Tark Wain
cheryl love
Light drifts in and out of the frosted pane
of the carriage door and decorative glass.
Casting shadows amongst the prim and proper
of the very upper middle class.
Shifting skirts causes draughts
bringing  a pleasant relief just for a second.
Causing havoc, cool air beckoned
to come forward but is sent packing.
The sun burns a face to a freckled frenzy
as though sunburnt under a sieve.
Beauty spots claiming places on faces
on the rich finding somewhere better to live.
Their sunshine journey.
You quit telling me I was beautiful
So I told myself I was not
You quit saying goodnight
So I told myself these nights are no good
You quit wrapping me in your embrace
So I wrapped the belt around my neck instead
You quit clutching onto my arms
So I clutch them with razor blades
You quit putting your hands around my waist
So I quit feeding that waist
Somewhere in this love story
You quit knowing I existed
So I made myself cease to exist
You quit talking to me
And now I never shall
Luckily I've recovered from such detrimental thoughts but they did have a tight grip on me before. I'm willing to listen to anyone who needs a friend.
My wrist had fallen apart and cut itself out of pity
On the edge of a desk full to the brim with my pain
It wasn’t deep but it bled; the skyline of your city
A trail of red she left for dead or else rendered insane
I can see the disappointment tracing patterns in your eyes
I predicted you would feel it - wanted you to feel hell
Don’t worry, I can sew it back together though I lied
Through every murmured moment I tried hard not to tell

Knowledge hurts, my love - and so does every impulse
And so does every moment that I find myself alive
I’d hate to break my promise but I’m a second from demonic
With an angel in my veins who takes most of her time to cry
I have the urge to set her loose either for release or spite
But I leave her there, suppressed, and I just let her lose her mind
Which I’m forced into and tortured under cover of the night
I don’t think that it’s worth it but it’s hard to change my kind
The lack of punctuation's on purpose.
 Sep 2014 Tark Wain
David
I thought poets had words to communicate,
I thought poets had a heart
I thought we were human beings sharing
or trying to share something human within us,
something true deep inside us...
There is a screen, there are thousands of miles between us,
is this not enough?
Solitudes face to face
disdainful and careless...
I write and speak to ghosts
lost in the desert.

What a world I am living in...
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