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I Dreamt of You Last Night I dreamt of you last night
I dreamt your smile and
your understanding and
I dreamt your death again.
It's been ye
FallYou try to make me better
By cutting my lifeline.
I won't do anything
But you did.
And so I did.
It's dark down here.
I think something broke.
Or maybe my mind.
My Side of Your StoryWithering anger sears through my body
Bones becoming stiff, brittle, afraid
Turning to ice
Only to melt in the loving apologies
That will come later.
But I agree with you
I should be ashamed of my
Inability to speak to others
I am a fool to be afraid of such a thing
You do not mean what you say
But when I agree with you
I do mean it.
My silence is my acceptance, and
Proof of my own self-loathing.
You are like the ocean
And I am glass
Thrown against sharp rocks
Caught between your fury and my disgust
Becoming smaller and smaller
Until, eroded and fragmented,
I am a myriad emerald grains swallowed into
Held in by only a shapeless skin
And all it would take is
To release the rhythms of my shattered heart
And swallow the world
23rd December: Snowglobei.
The air: crisp and cold.
Blue fingers clutching a hot chestnut island of warmth.
A thousand artificial stars cling to the highlighted edges of roofs and doorways.
Antiquated songs ghost through the night on streams of northern sky.
Boreas, bringer of winter.
In highland Scotland, the sky ripples
For a fleeting moment, the darkness presses against some other world
Sending rainbow laughter dancing across the ozone.
The thermometer drops another notch.
Aurora, dawn of a new year.
Plastic reindeer roam over shop fronts
Names chanted by children who still believe.
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Cupid, Comet, Donner, Blitzen.
Old tales take on a new meaning when the carrot you left out is gone next morning.
Nikolaos the Wonderworker.
Clouds heavy with snow borne across cities
Threatening commuters and angry pensioners
Bright white bombers with a sparkling load for Christmas.
Grit like Mars-dust: Bad weather brings out wartime spirit.
Ares, Lord of War.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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