narcissa
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Ophelia
She is lucky to drown I dip my head below water, test the depths of my own madness (not yet so true) Time heals, it is said, but how can it, when every day the hairline crack in my heart gets a little wider (I am splitting in two) I have been filled and am overflowing. She suffered, not because of unrequited love, it was seeded deep before that. Her father and brother, whose contradicting sameness held together like a flood which crept into her shell-of-an-ear and poisoned her inwardly out. Ophelia, you are my muse, who sits sorrowfully on the window ledge, sandaled feet swinging slowly, thoughtful, her toes dripping water onto my blue carpet.
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- 839 reads
O: Sideways poem
A man once tilted his head to the side, sitting on the subway, until the train was travelling vertically. He wondered why nobody was falling into him...
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- 852 reads
R
When the purple pages run out I will begin the blank book you gave me for my birthday. And it will be as if I am writing on you tattoo you with words...
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- 805 reads
New this*
This is contentment, here - in your arms - it doesn't fit intoa category. The sinking in the pit of your stomach? Push it away, pretend it isn't...
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- 677 reads
Slides
I see them too Pride of place on the mantlepiece of memory (so to speak) Those memories, fond, make us look forward But are we then disappointed? I...
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- 719 reads