Posts
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What if
everyone loves her
like it’s the easiest thing in the world
like breathing
like light finding the ocean
she walks into a room
and it rearranges itself around her
but she never sees it
never sees the way they watch her -
last week i fell in love with the rain
last week
she reached out
brushing my cheek
with her soft steady touch
her whispers filled the air
gentle -
I hear it now
i hear it now.
not a whisper
nor a shout
i hear it now.
the future
a call
distant
melancholy?
i can’t help
but wonder
how much am I leaving behind?
i hear it now.
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The two men who did it all
Once there was a man
Who could
Do
It
All.
A man of many arts
The stage
The desk
The microphone -
it’s mine, not theirs.
note: this is not targeted at anyone, it’s just my opinion :)
Writing is my pulse,
my breath,
my way of being.
They don’t own my words,
my thoughts,
my voice. -
How did we get here?
How did we get here?
With a man who lies
and stirs the storm,
who turns hate into headlines
and power into a joke.
Loves
-
The way to a man's heart is food, they say
Searing, frying, sautéing,
wiping sweat off my forehead,
crying because of onions
the things I do for a boy.
I hope he likes it.
The doorbell rings.
The door opens, he stands with a bouquet in his hands. -
Rain
I stand alone as the clouds turn gray.
I watch as the rain starts to fall.
I hear a roar of thunder in the distance.
I see a bolt of lightning a few miles away.
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When the Rain Fell
When the rain fell, a world grew, and something vacant turned green.
As the world grew, its people loved, and something grew in them.
When the people loved, the people lost, and the world grew again. -
when the sun sets tonight.
i hate the sunset tonight,
i usually enjoy sunsets,
sitting on the roof,
with the wind blowing up my hair,
craning my neck up to the sweet sky,
swirls of gold.
it really is beautiful.
but tonight,
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The Pawn to Your Bishop
How ironic is it
That you don’t see this comin’
That you won’t be able
To wrap your head around this
But I don’t want
To speak
To see
To hear you anymore
And how ironic is it
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Letter to a Stranger I Know Well
You came to me in a dream last night, as curious and full of life as the day I met you on the playground.
It was the first week of preschool and I had no friends, mostly because I chose not to.