Implode (NaPoMo 10)

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peaceful,
mournful;

the day sleeps on her shoulder
as she skins
chapters of the night,
into cracked mason jars.

I watch her-
breaking inside;

as her memories blink.

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Untitled (NaPoMo 9)

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calligraphic metaphors
embellish the canvas
of my memoir,
as I scratch graphite
upon papers of dust and coffee.

charcoal stains
flutter into wind
like dandelion verses;
beautifying
the otherwise
soulless sky.

Valorous (NaPoMo 8)

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scars vested deep in
the clefts of my nightmares-
burn relentlessly;

too dim,

to illuminate
the dungeon
I am chained to.

yet,
the shadows
flicker
boldly in shades of blood-
pumped from within
my ribcage of promises.

I am
left not to rot,
with the drips
magnanimously-
lifting me from
self-perversion.

Dejection (NaPoMo 6)

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for the last decade
of my screams,
I have forgotten the hang
of how words
can echo back
to the ossuary-
wherein lies my battered self;
bleeding wet cacophony
on the gravestones
of my suicidal whims…

Blemished (NaPoMo 5)

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~~

my limbs fold in
itself,
merging together
to form a self-carved
stone;
atop pebbles
thrown at me,
as I tried to crawl
through abyss of
echoing conflicts.

time swayed
relentlessly
forming monochrome
in a heartbeat;
yet,
I remained as a stigma
amidst stipples.

~~

Aplomb (NaPoMo 4)

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sleep…
gentle wind
upon battered eyelashes
whispered;

and I heeded,
murmuring sad tales
in the afterglow
of a storm-
that ripped  me
into branches of poetry;
flowered
with petals of semblance
between
fragility and agility.

I knew not how to wake
from the fragrance
within.