A world wide collection of various folk.
Some weird some not.
Unless you know them personally you'll never know what you've got.
Depends on a bandwidth with whom you fit.
Sometimes it's fun to flirt with a poet.
The distance helps to hide the fact.
That where you are, isn't always where it's at.
All the fun,under the sun.
Spun in the web of the ludicrous spider.
The one you just can't brush away.
(C) Livvi

You
Either leave
Or
Stay long enough
To
See "him" turn into
A stranger.

Oh,
boy,
I guess
I looked into your
Soul
For too long
To ever go
Back to being
"Just friends"

You
Either leave
Or
Stay long enough
To feel
Yourself fading
from "his"thoughts
Just like how
Dews evaporate
Once they see
The sun.

Oh,
Boy,
I was nothing
But a voice in your head.
And now that I've been replaced,
I wonder how long
Till i cease to be

You
either leave
Or
Stay too long
To witness
his eyes go blank
To watch him
See right through you.

Oh
Boy,
You were long gone
Even when you were
holding my hand
I knew you were
Wandering far away

You
Either leave
Or
stay long enough
To
Watch him leave.*

Oh,
Boy,
But I'm
Still holding on to you
Long after
You have let go.*

[Nothing good stays. I could never leave, so i guess that makes sense]

Missing words
softly surge
through her silence
again
like long
soothing fingers
of whispering
rain
that soak
their way in
through her bare
thirsty skin
until
not a dry moment
remains
.

I can’t sleep,
I can’t drink,
got to see a man tonight,
shivers and shakes,
imaginary snakes,
walls closing in,
heads in a spin,
body in pain,
always the same,  
I've got a need,
a powerful need.

They think I'm weird for seeming so
Affected,
But does any one else wonder
Why so many people were rejected
With no type of blunders?
People lost God,
They lost their lives,
Am I the only one that feels like crying?

Empty,
no hunger,
depression,
have to eat,
fill the emptiness,
throw up,
eat again,
throw up,
nothing fills,
only the pills.

The scent of death
lingers for years
in a place

lodges in the soil
rots
and slowly compresses

composting down
deep down
in dirt

earth turns
seasons pass
time and space and silence

until the coiling roots
draw back again
and all that grows

from baby's tears
to blood red poppies
oaks and elms

bear testimony
to the forgotten
dead.

© M.L.Emmett

I am not an old woman.
I don't live in a shoe.
I had four children,  
But I still don't know what to do.
(C) Livvi