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 Jul 21 Foogle
Nat Lipstadt
You intrigue,
With your unsubtle unsettled intent to decieve,
Breadcrumb clues
Your gender;
(don't care)
Your age
(don't care, but oft
Insightful)
<>
Only two things do I require;
Any name you wish to provide,
(So intriguing, always a poem in & of itself),
And from where you hale/hail,
So my imaginings can fly to you
With full embrace
<>


Sunday
July 20th
2025
Still & Quiet
in the sunroom
S.I.
nat lipstadt
new york city/ shelter island
 Jul 20 Foogle
eliana
I lie awake tonight,
Wishing of things I can change.
I try to convince myself,
But it's all so strange.

Is it me,
Or is it you?
Do I try,
Or are we through?

So long we've shared
Just to walk away.
But so much hurt
To want to stay.

Why do we do this,
Try to hurt the other more,
Only to watch one
Walk right out the door?

I love you so much,
Yet I push you to the point of breaking,
But why do you play with my heart
And never stop taking?

Is this the end
Or a new beginning?
Only one can guide me
When my head is spinning.

Don't push,
Don't try,
Don't stress,
Don't cry.

That is what plays
Over in my head
As I try to close my eyes
And just go to bed.
draft
 Jul 20 Foogle
alia
I sleep with the curtains drawn,
not to block the sun,
but to remind myself it’s gone.

The walls whisper names I forget
until I’m quiet,
then they scream them instead.

I leave the door open
in case hope walks in,
but all I get is silence.
Heavy. Familiar. Cold.

Some say darkness is just
the absence of light.
I think it’s where the truth hides
when it’s too ashamed to speak.
 Jul 20 Foogle
Raven Star
I know it sounds  cliché,
But it feels like
I've lost an important part of myself.
As we're sitting next to each other
But I'm writing about our distance.

It feels like the metaphors have been wiped away,
Nor any simile comes to play,
Maybe it was always supposed to be this way.

It almost seems pointless,
It seems to be in vain,
As i try and fail to find the write words to express this pain.
Friendship, break up, fake friends
 Jul 20 Foogle
Evly
Blood and bone—are we not the same? I ask.
I am her; she is me.
Why is she looking up—
While I look down?
She in rags.
I, in a dress.
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