Live Your Verb

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Tag: National Poetry Month (page 2 of 3)

Bad Habit

What a silly girl I am

for wanting so desperately
to make yet another man happy.

Another man who doesn’t
ache for me.

Another man who doesn’t
overflow for me.

When I was younger
and even sillier
I made a boy happy

until I didn’t.

I’ve been trying
ever since.

What a silly girl I am.

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Wait & Weight

In the pause
between
when I ask and
when you answer,
I cannot breathe.

The air becomes
so heavy,

not with
anticipation

with fear,

laden with each thing
I am secretly hoping
you don’t say,

each sadness I am
afraid to repeat.

Soon you will tell me
my expectation
weighs you down.

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favors

how did I get here?
tiptoeing isn’t
in my nature

at least
not until a man is before me

and then I begin to slowly
stifle my words

(shhh…)

not because I am afraid
of this stark honesty
but because
they are

why do I do them
such favors?

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A Wild Thing

Go ahead.
Play it cool.

I won’t.
I prefer to live this
just as it comes,
without restraint

without attempts to
shape something
that should be left wild.

I want to embrace it.

I want to be on fire.

And maybe I will burn
this down… but

before
the flames become ash,
it will be a
great orange monument

it will leave us in awe.

Each ruin was once a temple.
Each love began as a wild thing.

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Natural Disaster

What is left after Love has gone?
An empty, unmade bed
Half-filled wine glasses
Two wounded souls, retreating

When she arrives
so charming and unassuming
we forget
It is her nature to consume
everything in her path

She is a fire

Every fire eventually burns out
Love is no different

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Terpsichore

That little bird is back

She sings and trills and
flutters her feathers,
nudges my ribs to the
rhythm of her song

until we two are just a
pair of dancing fools,
drunk on our own music

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don’t waste it

kiss me now
before this
moment passes
as just another
spent without
the sanctuary
of your lips

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Whimsy

I like to pretend
I am a small bird
and your azure eyes
are a great, open sky

I like to pretend
I can fly into that
sky of yours and

soar toward the sun,
coast on your currents
before nestling into
the shade of your lashes

I like to pretend
you are my escape

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Maybe If I Am Still

Soon
this will be the dream
that is lost in the
first moment of waking

On the tip of my tongue
and then… carried away
on the wind

just out of reach

(Maybe if I am still
it will settle and stay)

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