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Lunar Tears I know your heart has grown heavy, it’ll take but a moment to fall. You’re missing a sense of sanctity. Just know, my dear, it evades us all. I know your days have no dawn and all your light is masquerading. I know your nights are ever-long and lunar tears are cascading. The skies, they weep on you alone, and the passersby, they stare. But I promise you not one will slow to ask you how you fare. They’ll watch as the rain will pour and they’ll say they didn’t see all the tears that came before the night you chose to leave. You’d lived through too much pain and you knew you couldn’t bear to live to see another day, but you saw me standing there. I gave you the love they borrowed and all the courage that they stole and you let me keep your sorrows in a bottle of my own. I took it away, planning to drown it in the endless sea because, just as it was hurting you, it had begun to grow on me. But, instead, I chose to remove the top and see the things you used to see. Then, I felt my own heart drop And, now, I wait for someone like me. #Unreal #Poetry #Absorption #Depression #Relationships #Love #Dating #Romance Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
For You Lenin By Sahana Mukherjee QuailBellMagazine.com For you Lenin
I My dear Lenin, has Asansol been on your mind? Kolkata tests your will, doesn't it? So, every weekend, you take the train and visit your missed land. Are all our native lands infidel, Lenin? It's been a while you've been in love, and I've been happy, if you're bent on learning about me. Why my bed-sheets are often red, I could never explain, but you probably understand the catch. I like to be your Trotsky all right. Lenin, will we ever see the sky of Bangladesh? will we ever know how many really died in the War? Genocide is something I can't deal with. Has our precious Kolkata never witnessed one? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Comet Kind of Love Words by Deniz Ataman Images by Christine Stoddard Modeled by Jeanne Joe Perrone & John Cappello Shot in New York City in January 2015 QuailBellMagazine.com Maybe my love is like one of those famous comets that sear the sky once every seven or eleven years. By then, I'll know what to do when love streaks across my gaze, blazing, bright, and perhaps blue: I’ll scrunch love’s hair, and punch love's arm And kiss love's nose, grab love's hand, when I slip on love's welcome mat. I’ll even make love coffee, decaf for love, extra espresso for this morning grouch. I’ll wear love’s clothes With my favorite boots and won't even spray perfume. I’ll point to love when I speak To a complete Stranger And say, “See that one? Yeah, I'm wearing love's shirt right now.” I’ll keep love warm When winter brings us the cold shudders with extra bourbon and tea when love feels lonely. And spritz love with a hose When summer’s heat Forces its tongue down our throats. I’ll laugh when love and I sing off key. La de da, da da le? And I’ll say yes when love asks me to stay, and I’ll tell love see you later when love tells me it's time to leave. So, dear sky, When a comet comes blazing, So will I. #Unreal #Poetry #PhotoTales #Love #Goofy #Relationships #Mates #Partner #Dating #Soulmates #TrueLove #Lovers Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Quick Note to Eve First off, don't believe everything you read. The rib thing? Adam's made from yours. It was an experiment--I wanted to see how you looked with an elongated abdomen. It was silly of me. Proportions were odd-- you were perfect to begin with. So I put the rib back. But by then, well, there he was, the shlub. Blameshifter, gossiper, egotist-- he was a big mistake and he’s got a big mouth. Humor him if you can; give him something to do. He seems to like busyness. The apple? Not a problem. It's just fruit. Pairs well with serpent meat. Working on something called --get this-- a pomegranate. It’s weird. Stains too, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Progeny would be good. If not, no worries-- we'll figure out something else. I've been toying with an idea, evolution-- could really mess with people's heads-- not sure it'll fly. Well, got a meeting, but-- and keep this to yourself, please-- you’re my favorite. xoxo G. #Unreal #Poetry #Feminism #Eve #Bible #Womanhood #Women #Wives #TheWordOfGod #Religion #Theology Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Virgin Valentine Last Valentine's Day, I spent the entire day watching shows on Netflix. I also managed to drink an entire $10 bottle of Pinot Grigio without getting drunk. I learned that the best pleasures in life are spread out over the course of a day, and with a large tumbler of ice water by your side so you don't vomit on everything. The Valentine's Day before, I told everyone that, in lieu of actually talking to a girl and asking her out, I'd just buy a cake from Kroger and spend the entire day eating the cake. I couldn't legally buy alcohol at this point, so an entire cake seemed like a good enough vice (and a good enough personal challenge) for the day. I never bought the cake. I just stayed home and browsed the Internet. I don't remember any other Valentine's Days before that. If I had to guess, I probably just masturbated and called it a day. #Unreal #Valentine #Love #Dating #Relationships #MyLife #VDay #Virgin #Wine #Lonely #Sad #ValentinesDay Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
She Smells of Polka Dots By Steven Joseph McCrystal QuailBellMagazine.com Seductive images Caress my thoughts Like a salacious summer breeze One that wraps around affection A feeling, a need, a desire to please Our eyes connect but shy away not knowing how long they’ve stayed My heart beats. My hands tremble. My feet, well, they’re always in view As I slowly raise my eyes once more to capture one more silly smile I ascend the legs. Embrace the hips, and pause for just a little while My eyes are slapped with a cheeky glance that insists look at me No, look at me Our eyes connect. She pouts her lips We kiss. We kiss. We kiss. Our heads are spinning on the spot But the only thought that fills my mind: She smells of polka dots #Unreal #Poetry #Poem #Woman #Muse #Love #Lovers #Romance #Relationships #MyLove Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Thief's Concise Pocket Guide to Stealing Hearts Congratulations.
If you are in possession of this Guide, you have successfully stolen it from a greatly respected thief: Myself. Though I am loathe to lose it, I applaud your chutzpah and sneakiness. But still, you have not yet achieved Greatness—and perhaps you would like to try. This guide can help you do so, and place you on the path to glory. Be warned: Greatness does not come without cost. To become a Master Thief, to truly triumph, you must steal something that is at once so valuable, slippery, fickle, and impossible to possess as to prove beyond the doubts of all detractors that your fingers are the lightest and your resolve the steeliest. You must steal a Heart. Perhaps you’ve stolen lunch money, test answers, coins, or video games. Perhaps you’ve stolen glances, moments, privacy, or laughter. Was it easy? Was it fun? Compared to stealing a Heart, all these early successes of yours are child’s play, my friend. Stealing Hearts is a dangerous game with unknowable consequences, rather like Russian roulette. You think you’re scot-free, then BANG! Dead in the water. Have you the guts to steal a Heart? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Hold Your Breath #Unreal #Poetry #Music #Collaboration #MixedMedia #Cartoon #HipHop Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Morning A seductive beat drawing quietly dancing feet into ever-greater joy. Our souls burst into fire in its sunlight. Its extinction is the damp closure of death. #Real #Morning #Poetry #Poem #Romance #Passion #Love #Relationships #LoveStories #Lovers #Memories #PastStories Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Violet Rain Little Winged Things
The low-dug hole was to be her potter's field along with a jarring army of crickets and mosquitoes' purr; jagged stones carved into her blistered cuts as sallow dust veiled a faint coating upon the sooty curls. She watched the drainage of the outside light concealed the skirting bay, speckled glow where mooring boats beamed like pied cinders from heavens high, then she gazed into the underpass of emptiness that enslaved her a loath chattel, once more the insight kept its mantle closed, leaving her naive and cold. If she had stayed longer, she would have been exhausted of all her flesh in that blank grey tomb. But instead, she'd burrowed down the turning bends of the folding rocks, stolen away through the open cracks of the abyss, crawled upon her shabby clothes, chased the darting mouse to the ramshackle wall tore carelessly at the moist dirt with her red-painted nails and out the blackness' caress she tumbled. Her head cocked towards the sky, briny air tasted of fermented fish and smoky tails of autumn wind, while the loom of sickle moon barely showed behind the ample spread of clouds. |