Essay, Flash Fiction, Poetry, Prose

Sometimes – Anonymous

Sometimes your opinion really bothers me

 

Sometimes my desires feel like slavery

 

Sometimes half the things you say I don’t understand

 

Sometimes it would be easier to love a different man

 

 

Sometimes you make me wait far too long to see you

 

Sometimes I feel jealous green or melancholy blue

 

Sometimes you ask me to let you see too much

 

Sometimes I don’t savor your words or crave your touch

 

 

Sometimes you twist my words

 

Sometimes your helping hurts

 

Sometimes you tell the truth when I want a lie

 

Sometimes you leave me without saying goodbye

 

 

Sometimes I find you suffocatingly possessive

 

Sometimes what you tell me isn’t calming, but distressive

 

Sometimes what you call sexy I find oppressive

 

Sometimes I’m afraid that our affections are not crescive

 

 

Sometimes I don’t like you, but I have never ceased to love you.

 

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Poetry, Uncategorized

Something about a Coffee Shop – Ally Ameel

I’ve never understood coffee

but I see it’s simple way

intruding into the lives

and noses

of others

even me

the coffee shop on the corner

sits patiently waiting

I’ve never tasted coffee

with its smells and colors

a penny found on the street

heads side up

to the color of night

when you can hear the crickets

and the cars far away

but nevertheless

I find myself at that coffee shop

around 6:00 pm

after a day

that felt much longer than a day

and it’s not so bad

it’s got this eclectic vibe

that’s surrounds me

hanging in the air

and coffee

the smell doesn’t push me away

it opens the door

since 1985 it says

and I can see how the jazz music

and black plush chairs

could make you sink in

and forget the time

and I can see myself

reading for days

watching the sun rise and fall

and not even drinking coffee

just yet

people talking

people watching

let’s stay here

a little longer

 

 

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Poetry, Prosetry

iambic pentameter & my fingers – Iman Messado

i have dirty fingernails,
you noticed. what can i do but assume
that you love me? and if you say you don’t
then you’re a liar. because who takes care
to look so hard at the nail beds of hands
they don’t love?
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Poetry

The Look of an Old Book – Iman Messed

I’m afraid of prying eyes
and I no longer wish to be coherent
but i’m not sure i have cause to worry
i think it all depends
on whether or not
my heart is made up of words
i checked
it’s not
sometimes i read so much
that my heart is as heavy as that tome of shakespeare
you have hidden under your bed
that my tears smell like musty libraries
and my tongue can’t reconcile anything
save plot holes
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Poetry, Uncategorized

(untitled) – Karlee Sanders

give up
give in—
no

<give more>
<give generously>

you’re nothing
you’re worthless—
no

<you’re worth the sun and the stars>

can’t—
no

<can>

don’t—
no

<do>

good thoughts are preposterous—
absolutely not

<good thoughts radiate positive vibes>

ks

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Flash Fiction, Poetry

(untitled) – Karlee Saunders

I never knew just how much I would miss the glances we would give each other every now and then as we walked

nor did I expect my hands to feel empty with every move I made

I didn’t realize the things I was taking for granted before he left

but now his eyes are filled with infatuation for another

and I’m still here

ks

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Prosetry

Heat Wave – Iman Messado

the heavy days of summer are over
the pregnant rain
and the ripening leaves
and the lazy breeze
embrace your still sleeping form
lying in the emerald grass
the heavy days of summer are over
sticky globs of strawberry jam
on thick cut meaty bread
gallons and gallons of too sweet iced tea
bumps and mounds on children’s legs
young blood running freely from cuts and scrapes
the heavy days of summer are over
sleepy eyes – inky, deepest black, almost celestial
i wonder
if i stare long enough
can i reach in
and pull the universe out?
i want this heavy, heavy summer to last for an eternity
and i see it in your eyes
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