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He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.
 Sep 2014 Emily Pidduck
brooke
is there are a way out of the blue?


when we are buried so deep in our
own bodies that the surface is just
a dream, try to live for today but
you are living for next summer
count the worries off my back
like notches in wood or welts
from belts don't need no
father figure with his
strap because I am
my own abuser,
I laid myself
o u t   o n   t h e   t a b l e   t o
condemn my
parts against
the stained
oak, white.
palms. white.
knuckles. Each
draw back is a
word

love.your.self.
love.your.self.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014.
 Sep 2014 Emily Pidduck
Poetic T
Heaven took you
Wings,
Halo,
Clouds,
You sit upon them
Softly looking over the
Silver lining
Staring down upon the ground
You see those left behind,
Family,
Friends,
Loved,
By each, missing you
Now that you have gone,
Still you sense the
Love,
Sorrow,
Loss,
Of your passing,
You were taken to early,
But you blow
Angel kisses below
Love,
Happiness,
Feelings,
That in a better place
You are in peace,
No pain, or harm,
The wind touches each face
And a feeling of love,
From you relaxes
Puts them at ease,
Still missing you now your gone,
But know
Your in a better place,
You look down smile
And in to the heavens do you soar.
Inspired by Butterfly in Heaven
Did you know, darling?
You were my one sustenance
You left, I withered
I remember talking to him, deep into the night. His voice is so beautiful, every syllable he whispered still resonate with me.
He then caverned out
The bright beacon my heart was
I bled profusely
What it was like in the end.
Your words on my palm
As I succumb to your spell.
"Let the pain fester"
This poem *****. But so does love.
His affection rushes wickedly,
Like pestilence, through my veins
The lilts of his venomous voice
Sending my heart into a frenzy

But he vanishes into oblivion
As quickly as he came
And I am expected to implore,
To pander, and ******

Lest I lose the chance of reunion;
The sliver of good fortune
One that promises idyllic nights,
Iridescent moonbeams on skin

That's how my parents started
The young days teeming with hope
Which soon shriveled into bitterness
And vacuous, dejected nights

With one glance, I see my folly
This caricature of love
This twisted travesty to life
I jettison the nonsense and bid goodnight
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