night fall on foggy day

when words leave

and I sit so small

with shaky hands

and sad eyes

and those scared feet

in tiny world

curled up in fright

with unfinished love

and empty womb

‘neath weeping heart

while my dreams of

you

disappear…

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thief

tired

of me

just

trudging

along

no sleep

no smiles

no real

no air.

so i lay,

and drift,

and dont dream,

anymore.

cause

whats the point

in that.

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libraries

i know what we would look like

and it would be beautiful.

and our world would be filled

with magic and love

and i know

you know it

too.

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aylonit? or just me.

if sweetness is what you crave

i have it here.

all here.

in double

triple

endless

doses

of magical

youthful

softly

loving

suckling

birthing

holding

giving

of otherworldly

ancient spring

gently

growing

ivy wrapping

flower blooming

healing

breathing

in that other world

of sacred living

that is

just

me.

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cat in the trash heap

ill never measure up

never be that white

never be whole

never be perfect

and for that

i get punished

with inadequate

nothingness

where i cant even be offered

what every stupid girl

is.

so i say goodbye

and i cry

empty tears

cause nobody sees,

and hug myself

cause nobody does,

if only

that i shouldnt

fall completely

out of

life.

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further

alone

again

in ruled retreat

where air is thin

and breath is rare

and that closeness

we fake

that says we’re more

but in truth we’re less…

with unraveling strands

of pretend

hope

in thin

haunting cackles

of mocking voice..

that withers

with each wave

of invisible hand,

and ceases to be

just a little more

each

time-

and i,

hole up

once again

in my skin

of naked worthlessness

and unclaimed

promise

where

haunted witches

go

to die.

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kindling.

feel

oh!

the tingling

in

my feet

while my body

floats

unawares;

and my eyes-

when they close,

spin dense

in drunk fog

while my mind

drowns swift

in you.

 

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