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i am hard gladdened
warm calm wind flows through my soul
my eye see's it's last
With each other, I guess
they had started to reason,
and that is how the sky and the sea
Eventually met at the horizon.
Copyright Simran Guwalani
Mel Kay Mar 28
And I think there are just too many things that break my heart, I fight too hard to stop from falling into pieces that I can't be spoken to, not even quietly.

There are too many people I've seen thoroughly, I can't separate myself from anything and I can't be looked at, not even briefly.

There are too many oceans, too deep to venture, no explorer will have courage enough to dip their toes in this water, and no one can touch me, not even kindly.

There are too many things that scare me now. I never leave from the bed I lay in and I can't be danced with, not even calmly.

There are too many ways to break my heart these days that I can't be moved, not even gently,

Not even at all.
It's not good but it's a poem.
maria Mar 19
Typically greeted with clanking dishes and crumbs on the counter,
this week, I was alone.
Cleared out was my eclectic apartment;
it was just me who I greeted at the end of the day.
I didn't speak out loud as I would,
but my mind had a relentless narrative
of look at this and what about that.

It was natural,
it was lovely,
and it was calm.

Leave me alone for too long
and dim shadows start to look like ghosts.
But make way for me some space,
and I flourish in my own company.
James Rives Mar 8
all at once, and little by little, i fell in love. for the first time in my life, it didn't feel like something i needed to force or prove. it simply was. is. and thinking about her, us, the simple, the fun, and the delightfully mundane fills my heart to burst in a way that feels like a secure embrace and a soft kiss on my forehead. i love the sound of her voice, her long-winded stories, and her goofy laugh that betrays the surliness she'd sometimes feign to avoid feeling too much, too quickly. i am seen and heard and loved and valued, and it feels so effortless. never in my days did I imagine wanting to cheerlead and love and support someone so fully, to point it inward and treat myself the same. blues and greens and purples and pinks have never been brighter to me, saturated by the richness of each tender brush stroke in our ongoing tapestry. i love being in love and i love the woman that taught me how to eat the sun and let it go before the moon can miss it.
AE Feb 16
a world
of distant voices and glittering echoes
painted with a thousand sunsets
that I've poured into my eyes
to find some relief from this tiredness
Days walk beside me, years run ahead
I wish I could collect all the silences
between all that I've said
and fill them in with things
I've lost to time
Thank you notes spill from my hands to yours
The permanence of things begins to fade among dialogue once shared
There is a world I have spent building
With stories and reminders
you left for me
I hope you'll find in it
the transience of an anger
that ceases to be
aquanerine Jan 29
a bright moon lights up the room
soft linen comforting curiosity
ethereal melodies navigating forward
eyes recognizing constellations
connections beyond reality
towards everlasting ideas
then once those eyes close
those ideas will light the way
Jodie-Elaine Jan 6
Good morning    body
I called you in for a meeting
    because
you can’t sleep                         again
and I just wanted to tell you
        you don’t already seem to know
and no one can read your writing
you already know what you’re wearing tomorrow and you’ll pay the gallery in the morning

and    it's all fine
and you’re very much allowed to yawn     sigh    or take a
deep breath    

I know January keeps trying to go on
and on and on and on
like you’re not already over it
a few weeks ahead of yourself
like we’re not all stuck in Deja-vu
despite the fact that it’s fun to type out
soothing repetition
like a hot tea lavender oil or the last smile on the page
like a consoling yoga chant

it’s time you heard this
where are the words you’re hiding?
when you sit down and say you can’t do this again
I will tell you     I think this might be growing
it was you under the pile of clothes the whole time
holding the remote
murmuring prophetically in the corner
it was you    you see
you already said
you’re everything you know
you’re everything you need

Good morning    body
I called you in to talk to me
for us to meet each other

letters to yourself are the new shopping list

or at least
they’re calming to write when you can’t sleep.
poetry from Jan, deep in the midst of hibernation season
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