Poetry

For A Friend – Ally Ameel

if you were a river

I think you would be running

right through my heart

streaming across the pages

 

periods replaced by waterfalls

not unlike the tears that fell

as I watched you leaving

on the train

 

your hat in your hand

out the open window

worn and torn from age

even though youth

shown on your face

in the freckles

dotting your nose

 

I held my arms close to my body

because you had left a warm impression

on my insides

 

slowly shaking

like a flame

caught in the breeze

 

and your hat and hand

faded away

until they were dots

blending with the body

of the black locomotive

 

headed towards somewhere

I don’t care

because

it’s not anywhere close to me

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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, 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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