Poetry Forum
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8/15/2021 9:19:56 PM
Violet Phillips Posts: 1
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I wake up to cold coffee every morning Does he also wake up to cold coffee? Is he still waking up to anything at all?
When we were kids, everything was so innocent Innocence always leads to dark places, doesn’t it?
I can’t picture the girls who spoke out against him I can’t picture him breaking the rules of consent, trapping a girl in his room He wasn’t brought up that way He was brought up to value equality, expression, maybe girls like me
If these teenage girls are as honest as most teenage girls are, he was never really the boy I thought he was
But My mind can hardly paint that picture, it’s missing the right colors So all I do is hope he doesn’t die, hope he can somehow feel my wishes all the way from the big Apple and his passion goes back to the theater instead of dying so young When I was his age, I was swallowed by despair ANd then I found my way back to poetry So he can find his way back to the stage, can’t he?
Even if our paths never meet again, am I wrong to want him to repent and redeem? To find his way back to the brilliant little boy he once was?
As I swallow cold coffee, I realize it’s not the only thing in my life that’s lost its warmth And maybe someday he can be reheated, if the words against him were false Maybe he can return to the things that keep his life warm
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8/26/2021 2:12:31 AM
Eduardo Richardson Posts: 65
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How great it is written. I read and everything turns inside me from the pleasure and from the feelings that you conveyed in your text. You are a great fellow and I hope that you will delight us more often with your texts.
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