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since becoming housed here since this year
july first two thousand and seventeen,
   tubby more precise where
with thee missus, amidst bucolic environs,
   (one could don underwear

Schwenksville, Pennsylvania  
   trees abundant with leaves of grass spare
zip cone: one nine four seven three,
   this resident doth not find queer

disproportionate amount of time,
   he spends never to overhear
the mostly soundproof walls
   inside apartment b44 assigned midyear,

one bedroom living social space
   gives ample opportunity to assess linear
ratcheting asper elderly folks inch along
   chronological space/time continuum
   fragile as jasperware  

many experience diminution
   of vital sensory organs, and oft time cannot hear
even without television blasting away,
   no doubt harboring anticipatory anxiey sans,

   grim reaper's unannounced visit they fear
their non verbal body language
   (when aye espy and stride-rite past,
   an old lady or man riding shot gun

   securely strapped in wheel chair,
   shuffling back where buffalo used to roam,
   or trudging to common
   all purpose gathering place)

   speaks volumes analogous to a frightened deer
when caught blindsided
   within bright lights of an automobile 'ere
unsure which way to go, and dashing out in the thick
   of evening rush hour traffic,

   lacking notion, the figurative coast not clear
subsequently doe ting bucks killed, where birds of prey
   thence loftily circle gracefully  
   gliding within upper atmospheric air

upon scrutinizing what doth appear
as a hollowed out existence induces me to de clear
to maximize utilizing each precious moment 'ere
before each major metaphorical cog and gear
frankly zaps, this dude looks like a lady,

   cuz ah ma longish bedraggled
   hydrogen peroxide tinted hair
me haint give a rats ***
   what rumor mongers relish, and behind me back jeer

Since old people lack for purposefulness tis unlike to leer
that one day (fast as snap of fingers),
   lack of being ambulatory t'will be near
and upon limitation in physical functionality,
   aye aim to app pear
motivated to partake of mental exercises
   just sitting on me rear.
jenn Nov 2017
I don’t think we were ever supposed to be a thing.
That we were never meant to be more than just strangers…
but something happened.
I don’t know what though.
Perhaps this is just an illusion,
one that I can’t seem to pull myself out of.
That those nights filled with laughter and deep conversations
until the clock reads two… is solely just a picture scribbled
inside my head.
But even then, somehow you still seem to know
me better than I know myself.

How did we find ourselves here?
How did I become so lucky to break down
those walls you’ve worked so hard to build?
How did I find a guy who looks past all of the things
I try to hide from myself?
More than friends yet not technically lovers,
our story is a forgotten fairy tale—
with meaning that has been lost in translation.
Perhaps maybe one day, we can break out
our old notebooks and ink pens
and begin to write our own.
G J Nov 2017
I wish these feelings could fade away
in the same way you forgot my voice
over time and distance
Survived Nov 2017
Still here
Still miss you
Still want to be with you
Still love you more than you loved me.
Still looking for us.
Sarah Nov 2017
People tell me life moves on
But everything is in
s
  l
    o
       w
m
  o
    t
      i
        o
          n
Time barely moves
I'm stuck standing still

People tell me I'm overreacting
But everything feels
s
  o
h
  e
    a
      v
        y
I barely move
I'm stuck carrying it all

People tell me to choose my mood
But everying is so
o
  u
      t
o
  f
c
  o
    n
       t
         r
           o
             l
Everyone stays still
And I'm stuck
I'll never move on
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