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She Fades

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She bleeds out,

Onto the floor.

Doctors work


To save her life.

She sees

The bright lights

Shining above her head.

She is fading,

The doctor tries to

Convince her to stay

With a blink,

She is gone.

The lights

Fade to black.

There is nothing.

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Drowning in a black hole,

Darkness that never ends.

Hopelessness at the end

Of a tethered, frayed rope.

Choking on an unknown lump,

Without any relief,

Everything is colorless,

A rope around my ankles

With an enormous rock attached.

Sleep is the only avoidance,

Helpless like a scared child,

Frightened of yourself,

Feeling worthless.

Crushing sadness for no reason,

Reaching out,

And there is no one.

Feeling controlled

By an abusive lover,

Monotony, sitting and staring.

Train in a dark tunnel

Coming at you.

The demon taunts.

The Road

Image by B. Wright

Driving along,

Seemingly endless road,

Out in the country.

Yellowish-tan gravel,

With divets and dust,

Dry weather,

Earth crunches

Beneath the tires.


Billowing cloud of dust,

Following the car,

A faithful shadow.

Passing cows,

In verdant meadows,

Honking as I pass them.

The sky is velvet blue,

Clear and bright,

Deep breaths,

Sighing at the beauty.


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Our love is so solid,

I can’t seem to understand

My blessed fortune.

So much loyalty,

Unconditional love,

And connection

That is beyond beautiful.

A richer life,

Now that he’s in it,

I wonder if angels above

Sent you to me

Like a gift from the heavens.

Home to Me

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Image found at

At my home,

Cozy night,

droplets of rain

dancing along the

window sills.

Snuggled up

next to the man

I love the most,

he’s my true home.

Inhaling the

scent of him,

treasuring the

smallest of moments.

He is my home,

my center,

my light,

the love of my life.

Changing of Seasons

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Image found on

Leaves falling

in a shivering rush

sound like rain.

Swirls of oranges and reds

in a flurry like a sunrise

as the trees begin to lose

summer’s shawl.

Soon there will be

a crisp chill in the air

and crystalline snow

will blanket the ground.


My canary is a sweet boy, mild and yellow,

His beautiful songs remind me of spring.

The melodies are so soft and mellow,

And his bossiness is why I named him King.


He chirps and flutters about his cage,

Every morning he welcomes the day.

He calms me any time I might feel rage,

And delights me when he comically plays.

He is quite curious about all around him,

And he nods his head this way and that.

He does not like that is bird bath is slim,

He would much rather splash water at a cat.

Oh how I love my little melodious birdie,

Even though it means his endless captivity.



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Image found on

Ornamentally ornate,

Embellishment of the elaborate rhetoric.

Florid style of grace and colors,

Mystic orphism.

And orphan drug,

Treating a rare disease.

Oromo, Cushitic language,

Complex and exotic in its use.


Ecclesiastical orphrey,

Rich with colorful embroidery.

Ornamentation of graceful words,

Brilliant plumage,

Excessively decorated.

Of a Feather, But a Flock Apart

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Image found on

Fingertips tremble on frosted glass,

It’s warm inside, yet she is frozen.

Breath fogs her view,

She breathes in the scent of the merriment.

Laughing, talking, drinking, how have you been?

She is the outsider looking in.

She is of a feather,

But a flock apart from the rest.

The large tavern window is an impenetrable barrier,

A single hot tear rolls down her cold cheek.

Yearning spilling from her eyes,

Begging to belong.

Jealous of their happiness.

She is the same as others,

Yet invisible.

She shivers in the winter evening,


Reluctantly, turning away from the window.

Shoulders drooped, she shuffles off into the night.

Wrapping her arms about herself

For warmth, craving comfort.

Her uneven breath leaves a trail behind her.

A mere ghost in the darkness.

Unnoticed; solitary.

She is of a feather,

But a flock apart from the rest.

Image found on

Image found on

The stars are barely visible.

I go through the motions

Of starting a new day.

I wave and smile,

Shivering in the still dark morning.

Every house has a paper

On their doorstep.

Others wear thick, warm, woolen sweaters.

Silence permeates the air

As tension would.

Hand in hand,

This thing has no end,

No name.

Dawn awakens the sleepy earth,

I am standing in awe.

No real thoughts in my head,

No expectation, no desire.


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