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 Dec 2021 Fionn
my wildflower
 Dec 2021 Fionn
i have grown flowers out of the marrow of my bones
i have harbored seeds from the blood that flows
i have created skies from the pain in my eyes
and i do it all for you,
my wildflower
 Nov 2021 Fionn
my roots are growing in ashy
i can't stop looking at my acne scars

i taste everything good in me
and lick the sin off my fingers

but no one told me that loving myself
would be this exhausting
 Nov 2021 Fionn
Seventh day
 Nov 2021 Fionn
On the seventh day
I hear
Thunderous silence
Of everything wrong

God decided to rest
And so he created
A barren, quiet day
Made for me to ponder

With silent birds
And noisy trees
I wish he didn't rest
Because now I can't

Sunday breakfast
I wish coffee was enough.
I despise sundays
 Nov 2021 Fionn
A Poet
 Nov 2021 Fionn
A Poet
Close your eyes
   count to three,
it'll go away,
  it'll be okay,
four, five, six
   open your eyes
      you'll be fine
ten, eleven, twelve
when he died, I lost my sight
   I lost my purpose,
     twenty, thirty, fifty
I will never be okay. . .
       & that's okay. .  .
 Nov 2021 Fionn
Dave Robertson
Before the storm, the river had all but given up,
the guttural roar of wind and deluge
rattled all souls, except her
and in the aftermath she swelled
and bore delicious weight again
and my eye-contact
with the pageantry of the green headed drake
told all the muddy truths:
to underestimate is to lose
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