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by Bella Rinne



i. Gone but not forgotten


I’ve been working towards a hopeless cause

A stretch for love, of hope. Of remembering.

Your twisted mind searches deep for a forgotten memory, one

           that’s crumbled under its tender weight.

I miss you more than you know. I wish you could say the same.



a line, (a short blue one)


ii. open


I don’t stay awake any longer.

my mind is open like my window

           letting the cold in.

yet it refuses to allow me evolve. allow me to experience.

allow me to explain: it’s open to suffer but not for you.

I’m open there but so, so closed now.

It won’t let me live.



a line, (a short blue one)


iii. an olive branch


Hope was lost when we became the lovechild of wildflowers and the devil.

But its quiet presence,

           fluttering and perched in promise

lied in each of our last shuddered breaths.

It wanted to be found.

Nothing was enough to excite that single dove,

but perhaps we will one day experience the exhale of endless joy and love

           woven through us

like each brilliant thread in the tapestry of life wrapped around me.

Perhaps light dripping through blooming branches

           or the sweet whispers from the ones I love

is enough to release that dove,

wings trembling but spread nonetheless.

We live in a filthy world of perhaps

but never one of longing.


If only we could find hope again.



a line, (a short blue one)



iv. something about you


My love for you is a sea of roses

Petals and thorns washed ashore

But like my eyes your dark heart closes

A bridge has burned, we exist no more




a line, (a blue one)


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