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Years and a day after christmas

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  • Years and a day after christmas





    YEARS AND A DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

    All the magic
    Sweeping floor with electricity
    The hard floor bearing
    You a Soft opening
    Lay your head here
    Now that Christmas is gone
    I can love you with wickedness
    The scent of green pine
    Falling needles quit
    Snow hides my broken necklace
    Mouth full of secrets
    I can give what you expect
    The gifts of danger, strangulation
    Unwrap my garments with pleasure
    I can show you light
    After the silent night
    Crystal strands of breath
    Bow your drunken head
    Set the pen
    Alongside a candle lit desk
    Write of those memories
    Ones that brought children
    Sheets with roses and tears
    A song of abandonment
    Long after midnight
    Geese fly over my newborn son
    Casting no shadows of fears
    A daughter delivered on Sunday
    Silver clouds and echoes
    Misty city hospital lights
    Years will follow your middle name
    With lips pressed firm against her stomach
    A heartbeat of concrete
    Olive oil eggs and French toast
    A cabin with frosted windows
    Behind blue laced curtains
    Shovel the stairs between the oaks
    Kiss me again while I’m naked
    My hands a vice hold your head
    Your legs a pail memory
    A frame of creation
    I brushed a canvas with color
    Poinsettia a flower
    There is no mystery
    In the way I felt you
    The way I laid you
    Gifts that you gave me
    Words spoken like poetry
    Hands pulled against our backs
    Broken a chance of release
    A cadence to climax
    Pulsating away from darkness
    And I awake a day after
    Having nothing

    Rds
    The second

  • #2
    Breath-taking

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    • #3
      Great words but they need to breathe like gaps after so many lines if you know what I mean

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      • The second
        The second commented
        Editing a comment
        you know nothing of my breath

    • #4
      I don't know what you mean except you are young and a foolish pretender. Have you ever held the hand of a dying man?

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      • #5
        I take it with the question mark you want me to answer but first I'm not young and definitely not a pretender maybe foolish for posting, now what I mean is you laid your poem out as one long read no gaps between says 6 maybe 8 lines just one continue read no space to breathe but if you don't understand what I mean that's grand, as for holding the hand of the dying at my age yes in fact I have written about the sadness of those times but I'm going to stop now, happy new year

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