Postcards of starfish and hugs. 

If willows wisps

could ever stay

beneath their haloed tree,

and all that they 

would ever say

is all that they could be,,

in winds of still

and sour change 

and scars that never mend,

id grab sweet to

your holy roots

humbled in love

no end. 

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tree stumps and hearts

if all the glory

had to end


a years goodbye

and all that love 

would come down to

an ancient, silenced


betwixt once was

and never has

and boy! 

was she a dream

sit i still

in that simple cloak

of torn and withered


..and there in dulled

and weathered sun

where moonbeams

have no place

worn chin lies thick

on barreled chest

and hides sweet

useless face. 

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The crucifixion of whatever hope is..

beware of i

in present tense

for all you thought id be

in place 

of plaited platitudes

at hastened stormy sea

with rudder tied 

at past behest

and soul strangled in fear

breathe i in shallow

almost breath

on flaccid cross I bear

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in sad disgrace of old chiffon

i can’t even talk about you.

you know that?

It just hurts-

oh too damn much. 

you taught me all I am

and now I’m not anymore 

and you’re seeing it all 

go to hell…

I’m not half what i was

not alive


not the girl that you loved

and held tight. 

but I love you still

in your perfect supreme 

and intense understanding 

of me,

so stand under the moon 

and scream for your soul

cause without it mine


to be. 

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silent rocks on bakers stone

im scared to go 

you know?

you do. 

to see your name

upon that stone..

where all that lives 

is all i am,

and all i was,

you took with you-

and i?


i, in humbled

tortured way

just know 

that’s not


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killer bunnies. 


i just don’t got it


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…and what if it did?

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