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 Jan 2019 Valerie Csorba
Frisk
g.a.
swallow the blood of the covenant
between you and the lord, they said,
but the wine tasted too sweet. the wine
tasted like a cancer that i had to wean off.

t.h.
fall out boy should write a song called
"welcome to your own personal hell",
and it should tell our story of betrayal.

t.p.
the silence is a loud house guest. i could
not sleep at night because of it. your hands
felt like i was grabbing onto stones, onto
something hard and unfamiliar.

j.s.
i swallowed my words, which replaced my hunger
aches. while i grew skinnier, you swallowed your
animalistic tendencies through another.

m.t.
do you ever feel afraid of not fitting back
into someone's life like you used to? but
i learned that once something is broken,
the cracks will still remain.

n.d.
a time bomb
t i c k i n g
tick
tock
tick
tock
every time i spoke, it sounded like a threat
but nothing i could do would calm him.
i made sure i was at a safe distance
before the explosions happened.

t.r.
an eye for an eye
an ear for an ear
you ruined me
so in turn
i had to ruin you

c.h.
the words you spoke weren't enough
for the green grass on the other side
to look like a crime scene. kind words
do not bring back dead people. kind
words do not pay off jail bonds. kind
words did not stop depression.

r.m.
there was something so captivating
about taking you off the path of salvation
of maybe being your calypso, but penelope
had other plans for us.

a.a.
i want to build a fire from the ashes
the other lovers left behind. i want the
tragedy to fertilize a garden from your
chest, to crack you open painlessly.

you came into my life like a comet,
like a ball of fire, like something
beautiful that i want to put my faith in
and also perhaps set fires inside me.
and maybe one day, i can stunt your
doubt and block it in it's tracks.

i want to persevere
through the trials
so this yields a fruit
that nobody else could create.
 Jan 2019 Valerie Csorba
Mistry
Because of you I hurt another
Who could have been my first true lover
I was drunk once.
Drunk on love,
drunk on lust.

I was drunk,
warm and full.

You were sober,
cold and empty.
Love came.
Love left.
It was romantic.
It was ugly.
He gave her a rose.
That was half dead and bought for $2.99.
She took it and smiled.
She allowed herself.
He kissed her.*
She kissed him, knowing it would be the last time he saw her.
Help me come up with a real title to this???
Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.

I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.

If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.

I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.

Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.

Silently I sit here.

PwL 6/16/15
Not sure why wrote this.  :-)
I write about every person who enters my life

thats why I never find closure
so I'm stuck in this infinite loop
of love and depression

the only two options I have left
is to stop living
or stop writing

but I live because I write and I write because I live
 May 2015 Valerie Csorba
WeowWix
He wondered
if it was the
alcohol in his system
or the symptom of
an alcoholic

as he lied there
and relit his
cigarette
after it was knocked out of his hand
and burnt a hole in his chest

--I think he drank
so much
he drowned his
brain.


She left
She left
she left

She asked,
Well,
what makes you feel alive?

and I responded,
simply:
the things that bring me closer
to death,
of course.
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