Gluttony

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When the Sun streams through the cracks in our curtains

you stare at my lips as though they were made from lollipops

and your nose lingers over my hair

Bubble-gum Fairy Floss,

the kind you can only find at the fair

~

Your hands melt my skin

for I’ve been in your Sun for too long

and you swallow me whole

like a greedy child

in some corner candy store

 

The Rainbow at the end of the World ~A poem for today~

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I weathered my woeful spirit

when they screamed hate and chanted your name

Their eyes are eyes that have never seen

the end of the world

and how it never gave one thought

about colour, tone or shade.

~

The world simply makes Rainbows for you to follow

Did you not hear the story?

The one that promised you a pot of gold at the end?

You have refused the treasure so dear to me

The one freely shared to those

who step beyond the clouds to see.

~

I weathered my woeful spirit

when blood stained the streets

and screams echoed from sidewalks

and tears made the rivers bow down in defeat

~

This waterfall has no name

For it is a travelling, untamed beast

No Nation

No Flag

Just a wave, washing over the land

and it never gave one thought

about colour, tone or shade.

Walls

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I lived in London a couple years ago. I decided to move there on my own because I was a shy 23 year old who had just finished her teaching degree. I looked back on my four years of study and realized that I had wasted so much time waiting around for my life to start.

I had literally spent four years waiting for life to find me while I watched TV and ate pasta. I had come so far in life it would seem. From a young optimistic four year old making pasta necklaces, to a 23 year old woman eating pasta so often it decided to hang around (namely on her gut and thighs).

So anyway, I did the only thing I thought I could do to actively change my life. I ran away.

For everyone who cared about me, I called it an adventure, my chance to see the world. However, in reality, I was just so fucking done with my life. I needed a break from it.

I recall one particular lonely London day. I was sitting on my bed marking assessments. I was listening to Hozier on repeat because I had chosen his latest album to be my woeful theme music.

The room was so big, too big. There were too many empty spaces surrounding me. I hated it. I could feel the entire vacant space swirl around as I continued to scratch red lines onto paper I could barely read (seriously, kids, it is not that hard to separate your letters).

The walls had been covered with ugly off-white wallpaper that was peeling in places. I could see yellow stains here and there and I wondered what disgusting find I may stumble upon if I was to peel back the wallpaper completely.

I feel like people pride themselves on having so much space. It is as if you are suddenly important because you have purchased the emptiness between the distances of stuff.

In the end, it does not matter how much distance you purchase, for I had realized on that lonely London day that I would much rather be closer to things.

 

Words

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One sentence was all it took

And I sometimes wonder

what colour paint might have coloured my days

if you had seen more

then what the world had taught you to see

All I wanted was to read you a poem

The topic: Forgiveness

I see Irony laughing at me now

but irony is lost on ten year olds

who loved language from the start

the way words made melodies

All she wanted was to show you the song

that surrounded her heart

Smoking cigarettes on the porch 

afternoon sun fading

I think you didn’t know it was poison that you offered

so blindly

 

 

 

 

Dear Friend

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You stand there

 I can see you waiting

You wish for me to say that I do not see

the glossy eyes and sunken cheeks

Years of pressure keeping you there

Sinking into the silk sheets

Your perfect bed of despair

~

I wish that I could stay

and melt the past away

but my fire cannot catch

that which does not exist

There is no wicker for this flame

no fuel to turn your demons to ash

~

Wade into the water of your tears

Let the waves toss you about

Be done with the days

For they were done with you long ago

Just some distant land you didn’t know you had sold

~

Dry yourself with your hands

but know that it will take a while

So just lie in the sand and leave a print

worthy of my shore