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The clock is upset
Hands wringing, face distraught
Second hand feelings.
Give me the colors of a rainbow and I'll be your heart's extol  
or a petal from your favorite rose so I can place it in my soul;
Send me the pillow the fairies have gleaned with watermark  
I'll hold it to my chest until I hear the melodious coo of a lark!  

Be a Spiritual Gem inside me, I will polish and make you shine  
like a soaring star I'll glitter so you know,"I'm truly~truly thine."
Bekah Halle Jul 1
NM!
No more performing —
No more presenting —
No more people-pleasing,
And seeking attention.
Can I do that? With no treason?
Is there a people-pleasing anonymous?
PPA?!
Dismissed from long ago,
When? I don't really know.
Wallowing can now wait
It’s time to live, not hate!
Wounded,
But loved —
Coveted;
Beloved.
From the archives
Bekah Halle Jul 1
Sporting spotty socks,
would not seem that obscene,
but under a pristine cream suit
they poke fun at the ‘proper '”
at the crème De la crème.

Maybe that’s the theme of my curly locks;
Subverting the straight-jacketing of everyday life?!
Bekah Halle Jun 30
I hold this space
For you to be —
Vulnerable and wholly.
I hold the space
When you stumble,
I come alongside,
on bended knee,
So that I can see —
Your bright future in my eyes.
I tell you what's ahead
It's more exciting than you can imagine —
I encourage you to look up
And out,
And live with no regrets.
Isn’t that what it's like to love?!
  Jun 29 Bekah Halle
Anais Vionet
Charles and my predawn jog was a sweat-athon and as the sun rose, a heat-dome brightness tattooed crisp shadows in every corner. Any lingering coolness was burned off - evaporated.

It was 94°f, 3 hours later, when I walked to campus - why don’t we use  parasols anymore? Drag on, radiant afternoon heat, please.
That was 100 proof sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.

Hot days seem to drag-on slowly, like waiting for a microwave or a droning, liturgy. It wasn’t in the forecast but I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear, “Today’s forecast is slow, really slow.”

Let’s start an Internet theory that the atmosphere is thinning or we’re just ants under a magnifying glass.

The finally setting sun left a blood red line under the falling blue dark, like a **** of wound in the skin of young-night.

Once my nightly obligations are done (classes, homework, reading), the silence can seem oppressive. I’m used to the never ending hustle, boiling drama and noise of seven suitemates - so there’s that.

On now empty nights, I’m tortured by the high-beating pulse of youth, and I pace my empty apartment, like someone restlessly waiting for their venti-mocha-latte at a Starbucks.

Can anyone suffer like a young woman left all alone?
Why, oh whomever, must I sip from this deep, bitter, undrinkably salty sea of solitude?

In this, my prime season, why do I only manage to exist?
My needs are in a shameful state of decay.
.
.
Cruel Summer by Bananarama
Habits (feat. Haley Reinhart) by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox [E]
All That I Need by Ebony Loren, Matthew Ifield & Sebastian Kamae
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 06/27/25:
oblige (obligation, noun form) = something required or forced
Bekah Halle Jun 29
We transition in-and-out of moments;
In and out of life,
In and out of lives.

Sometimes, we transition with ease,
With poise,
With grace.

Sometimes, we transition with wounds;
Defences up —
And ready to attack before they hurt you back.

I am scared right now,
And my defences are wall high;
Self-imprisonment —
So that I don't get hurt,
But I'm hurting in here, all alone.
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