but don't worry, its not going to be blue, the shorter and probably more red.
endless love,
Kendra


Lemon and IvoryLemon tinted And Ivory washed The street was no longer The same street Nor were the passersby possessing The same immune and Immortal continuity That had once graced Trust’s eyesLemon and Ivory
There was nothing constant to grasp Or stable to pull away from There was nothing simply to complicate And nothing complicated About which to complain Without such trifles Trust had nothing.
There was no sunshine in his eyes Or sunset in his breathe No sea in his heart Or sand in his blood “Trust,” he mused, “You have been replaced, Li


SubmissionMy TreeSubmission
It was the shade of the leaves And the never ending melody From some misleading forest Not too far away (But not from my tree) My tree is different Serenely decadent And exquisitely flawed (But that’s not the thing- It never was) Because it was only once When the birds held their breath
And the wind crept beyond the leaves That she would lean forward and whisper ‘It’s a secret’ (He’ll break my pinkie if I tell) But… My tree is different
Oceans
You could tell by the flow of the sand The gentle footste


From The Inside OutThere was nothing inside it once As it danced as one slipping to the floor In some elaborate display of stylized human nature Choreographed and perfected The draw light and attention To some elusive flaw Constantly slipping beneath the surface In a dance too quick Too graceful for human feetFrom The Inside Out
And it seems a shame, It would tell her If it had eyes or ears or heart, Because the choice was never given The lesson never revealed The dance never ending And it seems a shame Because if she could save it from dancing It didn’t believe she would


"Reach for me"Brittle but not broken These stolen sentiments Though ice and ash persist And still, I feel nothing"Reach for me"
Seldom burnt and often smothered The smoke remains Nostalgic for the fire Suffocating revelry in its wake Robs your eyes of mist and moon That pours down your cheek And draws empathy from the harsh wind The harsh wind that does nothing
“Reach for me” the call of heroic victims That falls on dead ears When screamed by sharpened tongues And bring nothing from the deaf
Call for me, as I am not yet blind And I would hear you &n


Saltines and Soda--1--Saltines and Soda
Hyper sensitive finger tips, delicate and soft and shaking, run over the crumpled hard pages
of an old nostalgic book. A book that could have been titled:
Should you read this?
A question that can only be answered by staring through the dusty fog of what once were seemingly meaningless memories.
--2--
The smell of freshly baked snicker-doodles mixed in with the farm air of Ireland, wafts into
my lungs. my brain. my soul.
Add a dusting of the clouds,
Covered in a thick sauce;  
--
Enigma. Temptress. Technology. These forms define my writing.
(is me)
--
om mani padme hum
--
Comment, to get comments.
Share your kindness, not your hate.
Love the art, before yourself.
--
Steal me a carcass.
--
Who am I, but a mere speck in the so-called conscious world of make-believe we all call reality?
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