Feverishly i write
In the moon
Of night
Word upon word
Pile upon pile
Of wasted
Crumpled words
I ask you to critique them
You thought they
Were
Words of love
Meant only
For you
When all it was
Was a poem

In the quest for the existential
need of nuturing oneself

we dangle in the jungle
by burning candles

it is a super humane thing
drawing ink from another

Secret leaks from
a writer's pen

for we were blind

even keeping
the true devil in mind

sacred to ourselves
as we trip by default
over our own thin lines.

Morning drips in like coffee.
I think of you. It is the
hardest time.  I begin the
day in sips. My tongue
burns with greed.

You seep in through the
slats of my sleepy windows.
The day starts with memory.
Your red hair curls
around the sun.  I reach out to
touch you.  I want to kiss
the blue of your eyes across
the table.

I, sadly, drink the dregs of
my morning, wash the azure
off my face and dry my tears
to carry me through to
tomorrow.

Mornings drip in like coffee.
I think of you.

Caroline Shank

I was dancing with the moonbeams
and stars were chanting all along
When I First Saw you....
                                     -diksha dhiman

for a moment, i can feel
the weight of your wings
between the palms of my hands
i can imagine the struggle
you've endured, yet still
sing your blue-bird song
and when you slip your feathers
through the strands of my hair
for a moment, i can feel
we are two small souls, connected

PorcelainTears [Anna-Maria]
November 14, 2020

distance, lost among the pages
two different people
two different places
left behind, dog eared fragments
sometimes i think it’s ok
to judge a street by its pavement

Yesterday the lights
From Santa's reindeer
Twinkled in the
Grey morning light
Today as I pass by
The reindeer is gone
Till another year
Sometimes. I feel
Like my lights
Sparkle
And other times
They are dim
I should dispel
Any darkness
And let the
Light shine in