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The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
Black moss and flower pots.
She cometh not, she cometh not.
Lonely and moated,
Rusted nails broken.

Dew with tears,
An hour before sunlight.
Cold winds wake,
A greyish mourn.
Clustered marish-mosses,
Silver green bark.

In a dreamy home.
Among wainscot,
Door hinges creak.
Like a mouse,
She shrieked-
She cometh not, she cometh not.
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
Find me
Cold in a corner
Scribbling over my tears
Exposed toes and clammy hands
Scribbling my inner demands

Find me
Lost in my own home
Head towards the ground
Making a cowering sound

Find me
Holding my head between my palms
Two elbows on the countertop
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
Squeeze gently like lemons and fruits
Sweet nectar juices produced

**** tongue close to core
Butterscotch like tapped sycamore

Perspiration seeps from peel
Porous citrus aromates near

Grown in sun among the wildflowers
Oh how I love her, even when she sours
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
You left
A footprint
On the wood panel
In front of me

Your wet soles
From dewed grass
And drunk squats

Your mark
Lays upon me
I know you’re near
But not here
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
My fingers smell of you
Inner thigh bruises, black and blue

It’ll be innocent, what I’ll do
Work you into a sweat, morning dew

Feeling like goddesses, us two
Sticking to one another, organic glue

Excitingly painful but only for a few
My erotica magnifica, you haven’t a clue
The Napkin Poet Mar 2019
A man comes out of the shadows,
as so it goes.

Held his fist to the doe,
Her money, you know.

“I’ve only but a rose,
one of friendship despite my woes.”

And with that rose she choked.
Like Porphyria’s lover,

Soft mane of death,
like a thorn to the chest.
Only the rose of amity saw the rest.
The Napkin Poet Oct 2017
Blood stains covered my art supplies
You didn’t believe in that artistic risk though
It wasn’t too long before my sharpener laid in in your trash can

You picked my pills and I off the tiled floor
I thought i’d be the one who’d be flushed
But it was the pills that drained down the toilet

You always grabbed my hands as they craved color
That familiar purple stain my skin wore too well
You bought me a fidget cube to fiddle with my tensions

You took everything I loved from me
Every form of devilish comfort
Alot more than I could ever do for myself
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