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Lay your hands on my cold and fragile bottle;
hold the cork and twist me-
gently--
slowly--
don’t stop until you hear me pop;
set my spirit free and I go astray-
into your soul so weary;
close your eyes, smell the earth in me-
herbs, tobaccos, vanillas, trees-
savor the aroma of heavens;
now pour me down in the empty glass-
of love and affection;
touch me with your lonely tongue;
indulge my warmth-
wrapping your delicate heart;
little sips-
after
little sips;
until-
you lose control.
did you try to reach me?
i am sorry i wasn't there.
i don't know where
i am right now,
somewhere caught up
between care and despair.
i will call, sometime.
when i find myself enough
to find my phone.
#post covid, post life as I knew it.
Lord..
chasten me with your wisdom
that I might bow down
on baptized knees
and know
that where God gave Life
the devil claimed tenancy
but where the devil
has sullied my feet,
God will wash them clean.
They played the odds
against their Gods
and watched the cards fall
Babylon was tall
but God was taller
than them all.
Demon
why do you choose me
to chew upon
I was Cinderella once
until you sliced my hair
with the blade
that cut Snow's heart out,
Rapunzel staring blindly
bleeding from your eyes.
Flounder not, little bird
know you that you have wings?
Fly!
Lift those mighty, crooked things
let tension subside
into the joyride of climbing
undulated skies
Let go of things that bind you
and allow yourself to rise, arise!
Albeit in your mind it is as real
as what surrounds you
you are bound to nothing
but that upon which you linger.
she plays the music loud
when no one is around
she dances like there's no tomorrow
and never a yesterday
she basks in the palpable sound
of her rapid (rabid) heartbeat
bare feet pounding
into unhallowed ground
 Oct 2020 ConnectHook
Lee Carter
It is the habit of the cynical
to believe themselves too smart to be optimistic;

This allows them the privilege of being unhappy,
even when they are right.
 Oct 2020 ConnectHook
Astral
Confidence feels scarce sometimes.

Most times.

But over the years,
I can tell that I've grown.

So thank you.

Thank you to the boy,
Who in eighth grade
Told me that my smile was beautiful.
Before that whenever I smiled,
Or even laughed,
I'd cover my mouth,
Or I'd hide my face.
But he asked me why.
I told him plainly I didn't like my smile,
But he told me it was beautiful.

Thank you to the girl
Who just last year
Told me my nose was unique and elegant,
Like sculpted marble.
My nose is, and always has been large,
But ever since,
I've been able to hold myself with poise,
At the mention of my nose.
Somewhat proud of its size.

Thank you to my friend,
Who told me last summer,
That my haircut was cute when it was down.
I had cut my hair impulsively,
It was shorter than it'd been in years.
I always wore it up,
I thought I looked dumb down.
But she told me my hair looked great on me.
I wore it down that night,
My friends complimented the look,
I've been able to notice the beauty in it since.

I have been built up by compliments.
I can see my own beauty easier now.
Selflove isn't always summoned purely internally,
Sometimes it takes a little help.

So thank you,
Thank you all so much.
Happy holidays! Its holiday season, and Christmas is just around the corner.

This poem is about selflove because I realized today how lucky I am for some people.
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