🥀
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revenge is made of wrath.
like a dozen broken heartshells,
like a burning anguish, unextinguishable.
revenge is a pain, an agony;
like a dozen betrayals at once.
a betrayal for a betrayal.
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The Murder of Molly Brown
Have you seen the cat-tails
Shifting beneath the bridge,
Gathered in the shadows
Down by the water’s edge?
Have you heard the whispering
That rustles in the reads?
The rushes, they are speaking
For there’s blood upon the weeds.
And there’s a faint impression,
A sadness in the air.
A ghost of trauma lingers on
To guide the seeking stare.
And now down to the water
We’ll gaze beneath the sheen
To see the lifeless angel there,
Drifting and serene.
We wonder at her beauty,
Her breasts, pale and bare,
And curious we tremble:
Is that image truly there?
But then the water shimmers
And things are put a’ right.
But, Molly Brown was murdered here,
And just the other night.
©️ JM Tiffany
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On your shelf.
I yearn for your fingers
to flip through my pages
to learn all my lines
and study my phrases.
I long for your lips
to be one with my words
to merge with my story
fall in love with my verbs.
But I sit on your shelf,
you say “no guarantee”.
With you, I’m just a book
you never bother to read.
[ Aija Louise @aijalouise ]
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I'm right where you left me
Still calling your name
It's just like the movies
I weep in the rain
I'm right where you left me
Hoping for closure
Hugging my elbows
I wish you were closer
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Like my mother,
I never felt important;
just another problem that could be fixed
fated to feel sorry forever
I still call him dad because I don’t know what else to say
yet my stomach twists when I hear heavy footsteps
but It’s been twenty years now
and ten since I knew they weren’t in love
This house became my grief embodied
and the coyotes still party in the back forty;
in the dark, I cry along with them
and briefly know the meaning,
the feeling of being
family
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//fs navratil
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🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑
After dark…
When the mutt’s bark
Finally fell silent.
I had been leaving forgotten island
Which had the dirty mark
In my misty mind.
It was behind…
The tortured part,
Of my broken heart…
I came to my acausual devine,
And asked for some flask of “wine”.
Unholy Spirit gave its bloody part,
And familiarized me with a comrade…
Overnight!
The secret scarlet curtain —
Became tore apart…
Ego faced up with brand new dyad!
It was her, my newfound bargain,
Which felt from the mysterious air…
When I reached her hideous heart:
I got, she’s my personal “Noah ark”
🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑
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only courage is what can lead to the end of this beastly clown!
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I cry once a week, on Fridays. sometimes I get nice poetry out of it, but not often. Funnily enough, I'm sadder on the Fridays I don't cry - when people come home early and expect interaction. I guess I lose the ability to reflect, to keep moving past it.
If you could look at my life from up high, you'd see piles and piles just dumped on Friday evenings, discarded and forgotten in the dark. my memories don't last more than a week, with few exceptions. Some stories will stay lodged in my skull.
Dad used to work in ER in London. he said Fridays evenings were busy with teenage girls - smudged mascara and charcoal smeared lips. tubes disappearing down throats. everyone wants to die on a Friday.
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I have two shoes (two?) one for each foot. but I have just one brain. could I, could I have another? just for Sundays. I would like to be a new person each week. I would like that very much.
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-my own writing
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burn the world in your rage.
violence I can understand; violence is about power, but what about anger?
tell me, O God, O angel, what separates rage from right? blood from judgement? (are sinners despite their humanity or because of it?)
Eve ate the apple, that much is true, but who planted the tree?
tell me, O God, O angel, when does grief end and start?
when you spoke and said let there be light, did it chase the dark away?
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Thieves' Lament
There’s noses on yer trail,
so careful where ye tread.
The road grows ever-rocky
with that price upon yer head.
The bone collector’s wagon
is nigh upon yer heels.
Don’t let yer burdens drag ye down
beneath misfortune’s wheels!
We thieves are all like rainbows,
no good until it rains,
and lawmen need no halos
to put a soul in chains.
So keep yer boots on dreamin’,
and a pistol near yer bed,
‘cause the Devil, he’s comin’
and he wants us sinners dead.
© JM Tiffany
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Thank you for the lesson.
🌿
🌿
(p.s. follow me on IG: @ aija.louise)
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Some days I feel entriely alone
The sort of cold no one else can feel
Sinking down, below skin, below bone
Pulsing in an echo of otherness
The rhythm lurks just under my skin;
The hollow makes its home in my heart
Till I'm outside begging to be let in
Apsrt from myself and everything
This emptiness become a quiet hum
And I sit here feeling guilty, feeling numb
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