

What I tell myself ...He's the compost that never ran down into the soil because it was just too filthy to be digested by the worms. His eyes are the precise blue of an overwashed periwinkle blouse that shrunk in the wash and you never wore again. Upon his head is an entangled assortment of brown vines that no monkey can climb for fear of slipping into his overly pronounced cheekbones and falling below the jawline. He would swallow you up with his crooked, yellowing teeth if he got his cracked lips upon you;What I tell myself ...
but don't worry, he always throws up his food after it's gone done.


Goodbye. Hello. Where am I?Belated birthdays and too late goodbyes accumulate like carcasses at the back door.Goodbye. Hello. Where am I?
Last Wednesday (or this Thursday) I flushed my pictures (or was it my camera) down the toilet.
It's so much simpler to leave it behind when you can't know it's gone.
Sometimes, wisps of smoke trail behind me, leaking from my ears, my eyes, my very substance, but when I turn to catch them --
I thought if I wrote
all my memoirs down they would remain unchanged:
when I woke, it was &


They told meThey say that the world is roundThey told me
but I have found an end.
They say.
They say that time never stops; it flies on by,
but I can feel it freeze.
They say.
They say that this earth spins on;
but I know that my center's gone.
They say.
You told me our love could never die;
but that was when
you did.


The Following SalesmanAre those your footprints etched into the crystal grains of sand? It it your imprint that travels just behind my reach and just out of my vision?The Following Salesman
Are those your breaths that lull me to my slumber?
Was it you that gave me the final push to let it all go?
Is it the night who calls me, stirs my heart and spits it out,
or are you still here?


If you dieIf you die, I will switch rooms with my housemate, tell her that I am allergic to baseboards and small slugs that creep in through the stomach of my floor, I will make a nest in the back of the closet where I will sleep and I will stare into the high heels and the shoes still covered in one weekend's vomit.If you die
I will take three of your fingers and put them into a small cigarette case, white bone bits lined up like beach shells on a grandmother's counter. I will remember that they used to run up and down my knee caps and I will send prayers through your knuckles and feel sca


When I write you a love letterIt will not start with I love you, I need you, look at your beautiful eyes. It will start with I weeded 1000 dandelions so that you couldWhen I write you a love letter
mow the lawn without stopping to wipe sweat off of your bicep. It will start with, I payed a boy $5 to carry in my groceries so that I could kiss you hello hello hello.
It will not contain the words forever or always because both of us are defeatists and I know they make you ache, but it will be in the shape of infinity, lazy figure eight scoops you can relate to. It will read like a choose-your-own-ending nove
--
Be inspired: *simplyprose and *simplypoetry.
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--
Two people, too damaged, too much, too late.
--
A word of advice from one Reaper to another, Kyniel took a defensive stance, never let your ego get the best of you.
The Realm Within
xo!
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
xo!
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
xo!
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
xo!
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
Moonlight shining through the window
Keeping us safe from darkness and strife
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