It comes in waves
mid-step
mid-sentence
a rush
it tugs at my gut
and carries me
out to sea
uproots the anchor
of my sanity
and engulfs me
in the memories
that drench every part of me
and just like the tide that washes up, occasionally
wetting the seering sands
just as quickly as it comes,

you are gone

x

One day, maybe in two years, I’ll eventually
finally experience the rush
I’ve dreamt of the future
that I so terribly ached
for, that I would undoubtedly  risk
the factors of throwing away used

items that I no longer cherished, used
people only needed to be a stand-in, and eventually
the risk
will not catch up to me, since the rush
of real happiness overshadows the ache
like a penumbra clearing away in the future.

But it’s terrifying knowing that the future
will become a washed up, used
daydream to quiet the ache
I thought would never eventually
stop the overflowing rush
knowing that my biggest dream is entirely a risk.

I am willing to take the risk
so that my deserved  future
will swell over the echoed rush
coffee beans stained  used
cups will eventually
wash away ache.

Rush
I feel it, feeling it
Further onto the open road
Sods, trees,
and clouds up above
Admiring the colors of the sky

Deciduous trees are also my thing
The bomb of every group of trees
Without having it's leaves
are the bomb of it

But what I love most
The air, so good
It makes me unstoppable
Dashing towards to my hair
Making my hands slowly moving

She exhaled, smoke floating from the lips that longed to be pressed against his. The taste of tobacco and chemicals lingered as she watched the cloud dissipate. She sighed and turned her attention to the trees swaying outside, naked with the exception of a thin layer of snow. The sun was finally falling out of view, painting the sky pink and purple on the horizon. She put the cigarette to her lips again, so routinely, as she has done for six years, and she waited. Anxiety grew within her, for the moon was not rising fast enough. She was anxious because she knew with each falling of the sun and rising of the moon, she was even just the slightest bit closer to holding the whole world in her arms again. Her eighteen year old body carried such an enormous weight because she was helpless. She spent every minute trying to rush the stars into shining in the night and the birds into chirping in the morning, to bring her closer to the most grand reunion. Meanwhile, all she could do was chainsmoke to pass the time.

No time, no time.
Always time, always fine.
Cannot cannot.
Stop, it's not something that should be fought.
Can't stay can't stay.
Just a minute you won't be late.
No time, no time.
Be that way, fine.

****** fantasies can be quite
A desire.
Would it be best to do it with your
Secret admirer,
Or just a **** dude?
Would you call it rude
If you showed up at his house
****,
Having conversations about your
Tide tubes?
Is it true?
While time pushes by.
Is it real?
He sexing you and cutting you
Off like a deal
Will your heart heal?
Your fantasy desires coming
True,
With a man heart cold like
Steel.
Think about it,
Take a moment and think.
Not every man loves you.
Next min he’s there and the next
He’s gone like nair.
Babygirl it’s not love, its lust.



-Marci H.

You were a
Lovely ghost
Here yet far away
But he was
Flesh and bone
And I didn't have to
Imagine the way
His lips would
Feel on mine
Because they were
Already there,
Pressed against
My skin.