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Zoe Mae Oct 2021
Imagine being a poet with nothing to say.
Vacant eyes fixed on your screen all day.
If a lost soul reaches out, you slap them away.
You pretend to be a poet, but you've got nothing to say.
Poets are more than words.
Zoe Mae Oct 2021
Expired oak leaves drip
onto crystal clear canvas
Golden ponds abound
Zoe Mae Oct 2021
Dying maple leaves
collect in shallow puddles
Autumn collages
Zoe Mae Oct 2021
Jack O'Lantern's sad
Flickering tears sear his cheeks
Until death he weeps
Zoe Mae Oct 2021
As a kid I believed the moon was made of cheese.
With age I learned it's just a frigid rock.
As a child I remember gazing at stars, whispering please.
As though the universe could really hear me talk.
Rainbows were pure magic.
Each one held a *** of gold.
Growing up is inherently tragic.
Splendor becomes same old same old.
Zoe Mae Oct 2021
What's the rush my dear?
Hold me while I do dishes.
Whisper in my ear
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