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  May 2014 Tea
Tiffany
We’ve been given the Earth
And told to fix their transgressions
But that’s easy for them to say
While they’re relaxing away in heaven

The generation before
Has really ******* us over
And if we don’t act quickly
We’ll be faced with some indecent exposure
  May 2014 Tea
Amanda
You kind of make my cheekbones hurt
from
all that midnight laughter
and
the little rhapsodic notes escaping
from
my
lips.

Such
a
lovely
hurt
has
never
tiptoed, danced
&
flicked
across
my
chest.
Hello lovely!
How are you doing today?
x
Tea May 2014
For some reason,
I dreamed of summer,
a lonely beach,
the waves crashing against my feet,
sounds of thunder and rain in the distance
- the perfect sensation -
I was at peace
at that little place in my mind
that no one could ever enter,
no one.
But then, there was something in the air -
a fragrance;
so familiar, yet so distant
It reminded me of that
sandalwood perfume and
leather on heated skin and
chocolate cake that leaves
remnants of sweetness on my tongue and
old books I wished to read
with pages I longed to touch
And suddenly, my world,
my place,
was crashing down around me,
my head spinning
as strong hands cupped my shoulders gently
as if shaking me awake
but,
for some reason,
when I woke up,
I expected
to see
you.
Your existence haunts my dreams.
  May 2014 Tea
Jack
Here above the spider’s bed
Balanced on a tiny thread
Soft the sound his cello plays
In harmony with summer days
~
Melodically he moves his bow
In mystic motioned rhythm’d flow
O’ the cast of crescent moon
Illuminates his wondrous tune
~
A thousand dragonflies appear
His cello sound they long to hear
Now as he plays this mellow song
A cricket choir sings along
~
The audience in grand delight
Embrace the magic on this night
For as all earth has come to know
No sweeter sound than his cello
  May 2014 Tea
cameran
yes i said i was done loving you,
but i would be lying if i said
that my heart doesn't jump
at the thought of you.
ughhh
  May 2014 Tea
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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