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 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
maxime
how could you possibly sleep though the night knowing that the woman at the end of your bed is disappointed because you couldn't help her, because you are healthy and her children are dying, because you may not have a shelter from your own mind but at least you had a shelter from the world and that's more than she ever had? how could you possibly sleep soundly knowing that the woman in tatters at the end of your bed is crying for her lost love and the marriage she was forced to have who a man that saw her as nothing but a ****** for him to play with? how could you possibly sleep peacefully knowing that the woman in tears at the end of your bed is looking at you and wondering why you're alive and smiling while her children were thrown into a mass grave after her town was bombed by your own patriotic country? how could you sleep and not spend every waking moment caring for the poor woman at the end of your bed? how?
a bit of a messy rant based off of a mixture of nightmares and a common sleep paralysis symptom.
 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
lei
i was once told that
my poems all contained
messages of hope and fate.

i realized that
my love for you is as hopeful
as it really is.

i realized that
my love for you is a matter of fate
because i truly believe that
loving someone like this does not
happen as a coincidence.

maybe im being too hopeful,
maybe i rely too much on fate.

but if it is these two that can
bring me closer to loving you
more than anything in this world,
then so be it.

i'll be waiting with these two
etched on the back of my mind
along with your smile that brings
promises of a chance.
for jww.
The slide is long
The swing is swinging
Your lips would be pink
My hair smells good...

سرسره دراز است
تاب تکان می خورد
لب های تو صورتی باشد
...موهایم بوی خوبی می دهد
 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
denise
Scream.
Scream into the sky.
For one day I will be with the stars,
And I will hear your voice
Once more.
the sky is calling your name.
this is a page about how you broke her bones brutally.
blinding her days into the darkness she couldn’t settle for a stand.
“this is your sin.”
love was great,
love was strong.
but,
she felt small and very alone.
she has been good with broken things.
she is a big bang of catastrophe, an eruption of God’s tears.
if you just didn’t promise, she was whole without your shadow.
a promise is a sin.
and there is a sea of promises bare of thunderstorm needs to be nurtured because she has been damaged with your bona fide lies.
a dudgeon.
her voice is hoarse, a singer of your sobriquet name.
nights are no absolution and her cries are getting softer.
she wanders aimlessly to the 12 am's.
for her, this is exactly what death looks like.
a midnight snack and frozen story with her bedroom’s wall.
she locked herself in a funeral she called a slumber.
your love was a fanciful story, but one night away from the present time.
“this is your sin, and now she’s a sinner.”
she has been fragile and your love was boastfulness.
she was a rose and you brought her wrong.
this time, it’s her period of middlescence.
maybe you love her but your goodbye was more intimate on her guessing mind.
she was no longer a human, nor ghost in your grasp.
she is a belle of disaster.
but a million miles away,
you will beg her to come back home.
and missing her will be the only thing you need to shrive.
she has struggled to pluck your name and deep in the ground up you know she will.
and you expect her to be whole for your bathos tub.
the riot forms within your lungs,
and you had enjoyed as a fabulist to her.
she was your joke and games.
she's altering your lies into poetry.
her dictums soon to be as soft as the dusk teaches her tenderness.
to tame the seas inside her,
you have to tame her kingdom with thousands of armor.
and her Lord listens to her prayer.
when i write about things, i imagine first to be the most destructive thing. and i pour all my honest feelings about the thing. and writing for me isn't always about being me, or you, but about taking place to be something you never was. i hope you like it, and let's push each other to inspire.
 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
Eudora
It is absolutely breath-taking..

how each of his exquisite poems sing..
a distinctive melody,
*how his mind works like magic...

sculpting the most incredible forms no one could.
Brilliance just shines through his woven pieces...
no words could really define how awe-inspiring his work is.
His meticulous sublime words...
uniquely create ingenious and flawless stanzas,

making each and every one of his craft...
out of this universe.


That is truly..
*
how gifted he is.
I look outside,
See all the things that I'm missing,
I feel empty,
Too scared to still make the change,
I follow the same old pattern,
The pattern that kills me,
While I'm still breathing,
I'm choking myself slowly,
It's like a disease,
I'm supposed to live,
But I've given up,
Given up in slowmotion.
 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
RJW
rustle
 Mar 2017 Gaby Comprés
RJW
rows of owls roost in their hair
secretly, I know that the trees are artists
they paint the air with fluttering brushes
scalloped and veiny
fingers so slowly tracing the clouds
who swing close to dust
in sprawls of fog and rain fairies
bless this ground
aspen and pine soak in it
tiny mouths rooted in the dew
mud and puddles
windows into the sky
where the roses' souls catch
napes and necks
in amber
melted petals
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