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8,364 miles
when there was too many miles between us-
you spoke to the stars in the most simple words
you asked “is this worth it?”
does your heart ache?
does your throat burn?
can you feel me?
sweltering under the suns heat
waiting - burning
but can you smell the smoke?
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butterfly soliloquy
my soliloquy must remain unspoken
a single sentence my tear my soul right in half
my soliloquy is dangerous
i might drown in my own words
speaking my truth isn’t an option
for the process is deadly -
I would enjoy the beauty of it all
like the wings of butterflies
but without their dust
paralyzed
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black jacket corner
a drug dealer
dealing more than what makes your heart
race
and your mother frown
providing the untouchable
a brew of pure love
a concocation of importance
nothing like reality
a magic, magic man
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my garden
i asked her kindly
to show you the way
a path lit
soaked in moonlight
to a garden
where we shall spend the night
so you can bask in my fire
the pain so intense,
you would finally change your mind
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cultivated woman
shades of nostalgic brown
the smell of warm, worn leather
fingers grace the spines of every
almanac
novel
story
from before you were allowed to have a presence here
more than a womb
more than a wife
but a perspicacious being
a soul of significance
a woman
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On Thy Wondrous Works I Will Meditate, Mary Oliver
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sleep
i suppose sleep is my solace
the light of the moon
dancing over my roof
the craters of it
forming a solemn smile
knowing it has created a
fortress
an asylum
built for those
running from the rays
of a perpetual sun
shielding their fragile nerves
and tense muscles
that break with light
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feminist
a girl of a different venacular
a native tongue spoken
from the moment of birth
with grit like sand
lips coiling around unspoken words
sowing the seeds
of divine feminity
for all women
for all people
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blue heat
like drowning
the rise in your throat
the heat in your ears
the hurt of being ignored
a formidable opinion
a cardinal question
becomes overwhelming warm
passion escaped
emotions absent
washed away in blue
as if you were never there
as if you never existed
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Subtle
I was not made to be subtle
I was made to be strong
to rise with the sun
and do anything
but fall with the moon
for light does not define me
the warmth of bodies
the chill of lonely objects
sex
tests
all I know is
I’m trying my best
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it’s my fault, not yours
i wish i could blame someone for feeling like this
i wish i could blame a lover
a friend
tell them all the words i wrote
but never would send
the truth is
it’s my fault
making mistakes over and over
regardless of how small
it has ruined me
and i really can’t see
a different way out
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the framework of you
escape the ridges
the constrictive nature of what we call
bones
the framework of you
shelves that carry
cavernous cries
and the heartiest laughs
ribs
the strength in being a woman
weighted and expansive
to succumb
and bend to create new life
pelvis
to clench and to release
altered perception in every caress
to be gentle or to be fierce
to indicate or to suffocate
metacarpals
impressions among the velvet dirt
arching,
mending to the earth
bounding into life
obeying gravity
infringing the natural sleep of soil
metatarsals
-p.k nielsen
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citrus smiles
i want to pick lemons
and bask in the sun
because i have become
myself
me
i
someone
no longer tortured
no longer stricken
my clock is no longer ticking
no timer for happiness
no concept of time
only ethereal smiles
and limes
-p.k nielsen
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my closet
the closet
where the old sweaters hang
where my life is packed away
where the skeletons play
knocking
on the hollow
withering wood
that are my walls
that is my skin
-p.k nielsen
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contusion
run to the water
the shower
the ocean
the river
to rinse
to cleanse
the dirt
left on my flesh
but the dirt is anything but brown
instead
it’s blue
it’s purple
it’s tender
unnatural
a mark mother nature could never leave
i cannot be naive
i know that only someone so evil
could do something
so hateful
-p.k nielsen
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cracks
my fingers tingle
my knuckles white
i grasp my hopes
"it'll be alright"
but nothing changes
they start to slip
through the cracks
that aren't newly broken
words fall without a chance of
ever being spoken
my heart breaks with them
every idea is a fallen token
into a wishing well full of
of what could've been
what should've been
of my hopes and dreams
from before i was ever torn at the seams
-p.k nielsen
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deoxygenated
vested in veins
spreading like spider webs
of blues
of black
they say rumors spread like wildfire
which is only true
because they engulf
homes and hearts
but yellows, red and oranges don’t convey
everything they say
sensitivity is purple
and innocence is white
so nothing will ever be quite
like wildfire
it will be varicose and dark
like veins of reminder
pumping emotion
from your heart to your toes
a constant reminder of every woe
-p.k nielsen
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