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No Private Reading (Luca Goes to Church)

No Private Reading

I can't recall exactly, but it has been almost 6 years when I declared myself to be an Agnostic.

Last night, after several weeks of begging, Dunhill and I finally made it to church. (Yes, folks, people like me don't flare up upon entering holy places. Although I was anticipating it a little bit.)

I was late. As usual. But I knew it was okay with God. So I got in right after the communion and smack in the middle of Worship time (this is the part where the church sings.)

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Beat: The Morning After

 

 

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Villanelle: Sex with an Ex

The past returns to us tonight,
Beside you in my lonesome bed.
I wish the past had seen delight.

When you told me we don't feel right
You were just too broken, you said
The past returns to us tonight.

Wished I could make you see the light
I found in you when we started.
I wish the past had seen delight.

It would have been a lovely sight
Your heart in my hand all mended
The past returns to us tonight.

I'll be the one who'd hold you tight
You chose to be alone instead.
I wish the past had seen delight.

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Farther

 

 

 

If along the way
Of you leaving me
You pause
And think if the next step
Is a step farther away
And not closer,
As you hoped
To your happiness--
Do not look back.

I cannot guarantee
That I will not beckon.

And,
If it so happens
That you felt yourself
Farther,
At that moment,
Keep walking.

Keep walking
Until you find me.

Until you have gone so far
That you are behind me.

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Mung

 

 

It's not for the tiny hairs on my nape
That rise to the occassion
Of your touch
That I am moved
By you over the universe that is my bed.

Nor the faint but hurried whisper
Of the ticking clock
(Our time together)
The second second gallops
Like a horse in the clouds-
They should be silent-
But they rumble
Like my heart.

Not the gray sky
At 5AM that ushers the smell
Of the neighbor's breakfast
When the warmth of your
Sleeping arms begin to gather dew
Against my skin.

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Traceless

 

 

I
Summon gravity to the interstices
Of my unraveling.
Mass does produce only as minute
A cohesive force as the silky strands
Of my sanity.
My words
Like my feelings
Intermingle and confuse and pollute
Fray at the ends.

I,I
Paint myself on paper
To bind my mind
As a rope
It goes around my neck
A guillotine

Losing
Losing air.

As air is emptiness
Emptiness escapes me
Neither filled

A vacuum.

I,I,I
Implode.

Traceless.

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Yellow Flower

 

The day hangs
Over my head
Hangs over my body
Dangles from a rope
Upon the tree
You planted and tended
Intended for me
They flash before my eyes,
Before, when you and I
Sat under the shade
Of forgotten yellow flowers
Slowly wilting away
Home towards the ground
Is covered by a yellow winter
That withers to spring
Forth the succullent fruits
You picked the sweetest, how sweet
Of you to give to me
Underneath the tree
Where I dangle
A forgotten yellow flower.

 

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Weekend Wife

 

 

 

 

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froufrou: Breathe In

 

 

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what is love?

 

 

Love is not about meeting each other halfway.

Rather,

It is about doing everything

So that even if the one you love

Strays from you,

You always find a way

To be beside each other.

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