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Don't Do Flowers"I bought you a rose" he said
and it was finished before it began.
I don't do flowers.
I don't do flowers, like I don't pay for sky,
as if to buy some dirt.
To what extent
can't we be bothered?
To use what we have -
To say what we mean -
But we can't.
So we let something dying
and I can't stand
so I don't do flowers;
I'll do it myself.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterflies
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.
20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
SpeechlessWriting is my passion.
It's what I do.
It's who I am.
I can weave words easily, without thinking.
But when I think of you,
sometimes i forget how to breatheAn overwhelming need to shut myself
underwater and drink in my inevitable
death. Crawl out to shore and gasp
out apologies while tending to cut knees,
but leave the internal damage. Find something
to tether me to the ground, clutch it
between pruned and shaking hands.
Water drips off my nose, down my arms,
plinks into the puddle in my lungs.
I am drowning on dry land, choking
on the irresistible thought of you.
NaPoWriMo: Day 3Today,
I wanted to pluck my ribs
from out my chest &
hang them about my house
like wind chimes-
a taunt for hungry wolves.
I didn’t grab for sharp objects,
I just wrote about it.
I never knew
I wanted to be a writer
until I lost something.
I still don’t know what that is-
(my mind, maybe.)
they fill gaps
that had no stories
to keep them
from hollowing out
in the first place.
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