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Scorpio
amygabb
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There are only so many chances
to see the dance of the shadows
perhaps in the embers of dying love
or the blank canvas of solitude
the stirring of leaves in the gutters
crunching,  scratching the cement (more)
Love
repeat until reciprocated
I gave myself a mental pep talk
in the shower this morning
telling myself that I was beautiful
(and anyone who says different is dead to me)
that I was talented
(even though I don't ever tell anyone about this) (more)
It was fun while it lasted -
the steam of hot chocolate and the
snow down my back
As my glasses clear and the snow turns to sweat,
I can see winter wonderlands
are only picture perfect from the window
After 10 months of winter
the melt is almost done
and I nod my approval at the receding hairline
of snow in my patio chair
with my shorts and sandals
I dug out of hibernation (more)
I'm lying in bed
woken by the sore throat that
is characteristic of crying yourself to sleep
it's hard to soothe a throat like that
no tea and honey will do
or lozenges relieve (more)
I am wrapped up tight in sweet dreams
that keep me warm under the night sky
and the crickets chip to
find their soul mate
but I have mine lying beside me
Some people are scared
of heights or spiders

I was never afraid  
it was the twisted reality that
caused my cold sweats (more)
I am allowing that
tiny bit of hope to
fix its roots in my stomach
and tell myself that
perhaps you can love me
even though you are perfect (more)
you fry my dreams
in hot oil
laughing as they snap and pop
fishing them out of your pot
too late for me to salvage them
sprinkling them with salt (more)
Snake Oil

I’m being bruised from the inside
you served me poison and
I cleaned my plate
chewed with my mouth closed (more)
I've finally pried open my eyes
and see what you do
it's funny how perspective means everything
especially living inside an amulet
now you can hear without my shouting
and can see without squinting (more)

The wind blows through me
and I start to wonder if I'm
really here at all
and if I could melt into the
wheat field like butter (more)
I'm always getting into trouble
when I have little notice
but spontaneity is the spice of life
or something like that

I like to think that ginger (more)
Don't stare too long
or they might whisper
and once the seed is planted
it will reach for the sun

sometimes words aren't enough (more)