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 Feb 2014 Steff
CA Guilfoyle
sometimes perfect suns
stream through my dusty windows
memories of you, in sepia colors undone
the breadth of days long gone

all of this
each time I go
driving by
Lips parted in frozen screams;
Wanting more.
Shoving harder deep into me;
A gasp escapes.
Slowly we savor the moment;
Deep breathes.
Time slips through our fists;
Sand and water.
Our tangled limbs an art piece;
Red eternally.
 Feb 2014 Steff
Amanda
Glass-dream
 Feb 2014 Steff
Amanda
One day,
I'll whisper all my secrets;
all those unspoken wishes etched on the creased edges of my heart,
those lost in the depths of my skin
& and &
those little daydreams that blurs my vision

into
a
glass jar.

Oh, he thinks
I am silly.

The whole starry universe can say
I am silly.
That I am a fool.

But that's
fine,
sweet-hearts.  

I'll lock it away, write a note on the side.
Let it be slightly yellowed and creased with time.
Just a ***** of a reminder
of
what
tick-tocks
can do.

Here lies something so very powerful in your hands.
An alchemy of messy hope entangled with rhapsodic notes of my soul.


Now, what you do next is to be

reckless.
Daring.

I want you to b r e a k this glass.
Let happy sighs escapes those parted lips.

Make another laugh line; one that creases your cheek and eyes.

Fill your lungs with the sweet, sweet balmy air.

Let what you promised with half-drawn infinity signs be filled,
now what dances on infinity will never lose its way.

Speak the words you have been wishing to say.

In between the cracking of glass shards, let the sweetness of the daydream meld *wildly.
I cannot quite believe it!
I have reached a 100 & two lovely readers.
To those wonderful readers who have read my poems right from the beginning, to the lovely ones that read it on the odd Monday or to the people who are reading this for the first time.
Thank you,
there is always something inherently special to transcend emotion through words to another person.
Perhaps, it's like a little letter of emotion with their name tagged on it.
So, here is another one,
To: *insert your name here*, Glass-dream
x
Let's make Friday flipping amazing.
Go! Go! Go!
Much love,
A'manda
Your love, support and kind words makes this girl get dizzy from excitement and happiness.
x
 Feb 2014 Steff
Liz
Untitled
 Feb 2014 Steff
Liz
Who was my mother before
she met my father and learned to scream?

Did she wear her hair long and loose,
the thick sheets of burnt oak wheat curled
habitually between her young piano fingers?
Did she stop singing Sam Cooke when people
came in the room? Did cigarets find their home
between her smiles, were curses running  
like bitter saliva through her teeth?

Most importantly: Did she come home one day
--to Pa folded in his armchair, hands tucked tight
against his sides, whiskey to his right, Ma fixing  
dinner with an eye on her dead sons's picture,
Franny working the late shift down at the tracks,--
and know that every night would be shorter than the next
until she was the ghost walking the bright foreign halls
of married life.
 Feb 2014 Steff
Ironatmosphere
On the inside I am breaking into a thousand pieces
But my face is like one of a statue
Unmoving, sharp
Totally emotionless
At least for now
Soon a crack will appear on my marble body
At the place my heart once lived
Then it will spread
Creating a web of tiny cracks
Just one poke
One tiny little touch
And I will become
Nothing
But
A
Pile
Of
Marble dust
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