Posts
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Going, Going, Gone
Going, going, gone
That's where you're going to go
Far away from me.
You're graduating this year
And I'm stuck here for another
But I'd rather be where you are
Forever.
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Friendship
Friendship
Is magic to me.
The light in your eyes
The glow in your smile
The thoughtful pause
Before you speak.
Your laugh and your joy
Your heartache and pain
How sometimes
We even talk
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Why
Why is it so hard for you
To admit when you're wrong?
Why can't you say the two words that
Mean everything
To me?
"I'm sorry".
Would it really be that hard?
Couldn't you do it?
For me?
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Doubletime
And then there were two.
Two hearts, two stories.
Two lives intertwined.
Doubletime.
Two angry auras
Flushed with the blue of sadness
And the hue of love, at the edge
Out of the way
Out of reach.
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Sick Day
For me there is no greater frustration in the world
Than being sick.
It's a hindrance to your life.
It gets in the way.
Whether a cold, a fever
Strep throat or even COVID
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The tree that defines me
When I was little, we lived in Philly. Seven hours from where we live now, eight counting the time allotted for rest stops. And a little ways down the sidewalk from our house was this tree.
Loves
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Remembrance
Cracked pavement tells the story that time refuses to forget.
And while tree roots weave their way underneath the ashen pavement,
Time is dripping away from me.
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A Palmful of Metaphors
I’d like a palmful of metaphors,
Ones to use every time
I put a pen to a page,
To plant in my heart
And become submerged in my hope,
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I Didn't Know It Then
I thought I liked the way you held your head,
it was casual and sincere,
not unlike the way you smiled.
But this was different from your smile… -
Diverging Strings
Blissful children.
Young,
Naïve.
Dreaming, of who we wake up to be
Dancing with starlight in our hands
Elemelons to the end
But wishes cannot last for long
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Who Gave You The Right?
I took inspo from the song Right, by Morgan St Jean
Stop
Telling
Woman
What
They
Can
And
Can't
Do
This is not ok
You think
Just because
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We Cannot Be Stopped
She wrote until her fingers carved groves in the silence and spoiled the blankness before. Then, she turned to each surface left unwrote and sang. The birch trees wept as she tore back the bark to reveal stories beneath.