Sand & Glass

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It is not alright

that you are not okay

and when you cry you create oceans

that break against your face

The sound of the sea

surrounds your feet

and you worry about sinking

beneath all you can be

For you always saw

the glass in the sand

the potential to mould

and the will to bend

But it is not okay

that you bend for those

who threw you a stone

when you asked for a rose

Focus

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I don’t want to spend money

I want to spend time with you

playing games like they use to

in those movies

from the eighties

when a song and a hairstyle fixed everything

~

I want to drink wine and talk about the wind

temperature

taste

how it feels against your face

I don’t want to spend money

I want to spend my life looking

around at all the places

zooming in

focusing

on all the smiles that we made

 

Endless Friend

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My endless friend will surely be there

when my breath is almost spent

We will laugh at all the fun we never had

when lingering in our thoughts instead

Lying on my bed

eyes closed and yet awake

something always unspoken

and tears, always waiting to be shed

~

There is nothing unique about us

and yet we are completely original

in the way our journey’s met

and the path we paved from then

The way we seemed to always leave

and always return again

~

My forever friend is sealed to me

for I stitched her into my skin

making us part of the same outfit

worn by many

tossed, tumbled and torn

yet never going out of style

never unsuitable for any event

~

We are an infinite lie

told on television screens

two souls

one hand

flicking through the channels

and never stopping long enough

to see an episode’s end

~

How imperfect we are

my friend whom I nearly lost

over and over again

who I know will surely be there

when my breath is almost spent

 

 

Sisterhood

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There is a joy of sisters

who know both the Sun and the Moon of our soul

and the constellations of our mind

Who breathe the light that radiates from our eyes

and grieve with us the death of a smile

Who know the beauty of a teardrop

falling gently on a naked shoulder

The salty sting to bind them in

an embrace only felt by sculptures

 moulded side by side

Paper Girl

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I trace my outline onto lined paper

and glare at the creases etched unnaturally

into my face

Like someone had carved parallel roads

with a box cutter

dividing me into separate places

~

I am now a variety of destinations

Miniscule mysteries for you to unravel

And when you have figured out the first-

simply fold into me like a delicate pleat

made from some delicate designer’s hand

An innovation of needlework

and paper craft learnt in some distant land