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 Dec 2016 Bleurose
Aaron Combs
My beloved, tonight it is more than perfect, the zephyr winds sing so
sweetly your name and the crystal stars shine like your earrings.
As the White Mountains glint gracefully, and the wind speaks
over our fingers, upon our balcony, let’s dance, my beloved.

Now over the thousand streams and star crystals in the air,
You can see our prayers fill up the milky rivers in the sky.
Below the lights of Christmas, before the blue rivers of stars,
let’s dance like the shadows and the circles of the moonlight.

Now dreams rise over like the wind and shine so easily
But time falls quickly, and worries fall away so slowly.
So let the rage of your fears dance around and under your legs.
For the world is falling asleep, calling for the colors of their dreams.

So let the tresses of your hair fall freely,
And the wind of your perfume
Soak up the flames of your heart.
Spinning like the starlight, tasting every feeling,
Let the steel blue sky and its stars fall all around you.

Dance wildly, my beloved, let's dance like the songbird who sings,
let’s dance forever, until we wash into the skyline of our dreams.
A Daily Poem
 Dec 2016 Bleurose
Anna Falls
Why is it so hard to write poetry when I'm happy?
When I'm content?
When I'm gloriously in love?

Is it a requirement that I be in rage, in sorrow, in pain?
Drunk? High? Comatose?

Can I just not find the right words to describe my feelings?
Or maybe I don't need this outlet when I'm happy. I don't need to cut my emotions from my chest and attach them to words. I want my emotions here with me.
 Dec 2016 Bleurose
francesca
in between the i'm sorrys and the forgive mes
and the screaming at three AM
the plates colliding with paper thin walls

in between the heated glares
the fire in your eyes that has cooled down to sputtering embers
a reminder of a flame that once threatened to burn the world down to ashes
that was how much i loved you

in between all of the glass shards
that've made a home in the wreckage between us

i wonder
if you regret any of this
if you spend all your shooting stars
on wishing we had never met
the same way i do
 Dec 2016 Bleurose
JAC
If a writer falls in love with you
Your pockets will be poor
Should you choose to love too.
If a writer falls in love with you
You'll never get straight answers
To questions that matter.
If a writer falls in love with you
Your tears will be ink
And their ink will be tears,
But you will remember everything.
If a writer falls in love with you
Sometimes you'll hurt
But you'd hurt anyways
Had you loved another.
If you love a writer, it may just be love
(Though that, in itself, entails enough!)
But if a writer falls in love with you
Know you'll live forever
No matter what you do.
 Dec 2016 Bleurose
TDN
I imagined myself leaving
someday.  Trading
plains for seas, exchanging
something loved for something
unknown.

And maybe it's the fear
of quietly whispering
goodbye that unsettles me.
Maybe it's the inevitable
end of familiarity,
like the sun's western descent
after a day that should not
end.
And when it does,
we all pack our bags
and say farewell.

Eventually,
I will trace new roadmaps on the
back of my hands;
I will find the familiar
creaks in the floorboards.

And when the sun sets,
someone will leave a light on
for me.
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