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BUN-BUN 5d
Hungry, hungry, eyes,
in the dead of night.
I carve myself, just a slice.
It feeds in delight.
This might be too edgy.
I do not know if I’m sleeping or dreaming,
If I’m dead, or barely breathing.
Maybe I’m trapped in a nightmare,
Fighting pain carved deep in bone and air.
I wait to wake
To find rest,
To find peace,
To feel less.
Or maybe this is that rest,
And rest is just this numb unrest.
I do not ******* know
Where I am,
Who I am,
What this is.
Maybe I’m asleep
Or maybe
I’m in ******* hell,
And this is not a dream.
I’m feeding myself snippets of memory
in the hope it will ease thebhunger I feel,
this hunger I’ve felt since you’ve been gone, ravenous and raw

I devour a lifetime of photographs,
so that I never forget the curves of your face
an “all you can eat” of your name
swallowing it over and over again,
so that my lips never forget it,

I am slow to realise that this hunger
is grief, triggering action
I sit with it long enough to soothe
the need to act on the fact I’m empty

to just be empty

and wait for your memory
to softly echo back to me
Amie 5d
What is in the air?
he asked me softly.
Is it love, or dust, or ash?

It’s the quiet hesitation
of something unresolved.
Distance makes it worse—
makes you buckle,
makes you blush
when you hear that voice,
the one that sends
a rapid rash through every nerve
and deeper still.

It gives you hope,
but what lies beyond?
Is there something
rippling out?
What if not?
Even as I feel tangible things,
Connection beyond imagined,
The reality of a life I do not deserve
Fades away, touching the horizon, only
A rosy haze of broken seashells,
Thoughts and blessings becoming one.
Deep reds and shadowed burgundies,
Faces of daises and laughs of green,
The colors coincide as the sky expands,
And I only feel my Father’s hand on me.
the barrier between me and my Father thins at the beach.
It's mental  indigestion-
knowing too much
that which is little
bears the best touch

so easy to handle
so light- it's enough
just like simple joys-
nothing is like such!
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