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• • • • • • • • • • • • stoke the fire in the garden, soup simmers in the pot, twilight shade on faces, timbre that two years forgot. we survived a plague and the forgetting is the cost, I’ve learned to keep better friends than those I've lost. sharing smoke porch swing belonging escaped me long ago, time splits tannins on twisted tongue. feels wrong you don't know my dad’s name, or my street beneath the moon, you don’t know that in one year this ends by afternoon. so I leave the party early, the night is dark and gone— so I leave the party early, there is quiet in my lungs. • • • • • • • • • • • • thanks 4 reading :) /megan crayne/
May 7, 2024

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we’re careening— well, that sounds dramatic. not careening— but sliding, holding you and myself in place— because my disposition leads (and has always led) to believing abandon reckless will kill if I let it as close as myself and yourself held only by bicycle rope or kayak rope or moving box rope side beside inside truckbed backseat forgone throats slicked with City of Roses forest gin and Artemis Moons I’m sober and you’re not I’m anxious and you’re not you’re carefree spit-balling about side parts and saying love and love as we pass long-haul truckers— eyesclosed Lyft drivers— that pinkie-promise coworker to fast friend elbow to elbow barefoot to clogs off in the cab shallow river dipping mask off cheek pinch I-tell-everyone-you’re-my-cousin kind of love that no mother could ever that no father could ever that kind of love that door we kicked down and threw into that mustard bonfire of before that old worthless hinge don’t work so won’t bother not ever not now not in this truckbed— I toss my thoughts to traffic fine me $900 for littering lock me up for language you say what a beautiful city my glasses are in my pocket those empty offices stacked apartments and windowbeam glitterblurs fall into the nightvoid I’ve seen beautiful and more unmatched in those words you weave so keep weaving them— I’ll be here listening long after we pull into the driveway. (& if u like it, I linked my poetry newsletter :)
May 14, 2024
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A long collection of poems to deal with the betrayal of trust from a supposed friend. A gift to myself, No rejoice, No choice, Decisions that have consequences, Oh how I have come to know, Oh how he did show, I don't see him, He left me high, He left me dry, Out of my life, Hours of driving from me, Hours of memories I don't want to see, Fighting myself every moment, Was I not good enough, Was our familiarity too rough, Expecting him to talk, Yet he went away, Yet here I stay, Alone in my monolith, Away from prying eyes, A mask I wear to disguise, Oh promises he made, Ones he never kept, Ones only true when I slept, Silly dreams of mine, Convincing me everything's ok, Convincing nobody that he would stay, A friendship or more, I know not, I feel distraught, Feelings caught like snow, Was it a psych, Was my brain on strike, Didn't see it coming, How could I, How I so wanted to say goodbye, He is gone now, Off with new people, Off causing me internal upheaval, Why was he capricious, So quick to give friendship up, So paradoxically enthused to converse and interrupt, Sudden life changes upheaving, Destroying my trust, Destroying my friendship; scattered to dust, Daily conversations no more, Gone off with a new crowd, Gone while I wondered aloud, Wondering thoughts, Wandering thoughts, Too many thoughts, Dangerous thoughts. Yet I persist, Despite it all, To spite him if at all, Yet messages I send, Read by all my friends, He reads them occasionally, Knowing he is missing out, My friends assist, Helping each other no matter how small, Noting the rise of our friend group and then its fall, A path to healing around the bend, Ignoring his pestering amends, Knowing we could only see each other occasionally, To combat our trust in his promises with our doubts, He is gone now, Do I even want to see him again, Why didn't he trust me, Not a word till the last minute, Would he have even said anything, Clearly not knowing what he was doing, Leaving with scattered messy reasons, Not one kept vow, Not one mention of when, Not one question answered clearly, Yet despite not one visit, There has been no emotion burying, No emotional turmoil brewing, I wish him the best among those legions, If he was honest with himself, It wouldn't have been pain of a million pinches, Times reflecting when I could've helped on a whim, Reflections that now cause me internal strife, Making myself as my own opponent, No longer having a buddy on my life's walk, Not having someone I could hang with, All about a boogeyman of a grade, Now I must learn to be fine, To prepare for what else is in store, Recovering from the pain of his blow, Marching along the path life keeps drumming, And learning how to just say 'ciao,' Growing more to spitefully not be suspicious, To learn to care despite him leaving, Hoping his decision was right; to join the corps, Zane how I will miss you, I certainly wish you the best too, After it was clear you didn't trust me, Thinking it over I now see, I did everything I could, Offering help like any friend should, I trusted when you said you were good, Blind sighted when I misunderstood, I now can only protect myself feeling unsecured, Taking two steps back from where I matured, I can't let you back without healing what incurred, Questioning the faith of words so absurd, I believed promises so spurred, Planning and promising when nothings insured, I was hurt by the emptiness of your word, When all that you said turned into lies and it finally occurred, I trusted the words of just yet another impulsive nerd.
Jan 30, 2025
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2025-03-04 Transition is elegaic—time unspooling, in susurrations, each second echoing— a thousand dying sighs. 2025-03-22 Pain is inheritance— (to unlearn) Healing is whispers— (unnamed)
Mar 25, 2025

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This could change when I hit 40 (lmao), but the older I get, the more confident I know who I am. I feel more and more sure of myself, and less and less concerned with how others view me. My life is my own, and comparing it to other's is a disservice to myself and the path I'm now on. Do I still experience guilt, regrets, doubt? Of course I do. Do I know what I'm doing with my life? I might have less of a clue than I did in my twenties. Do I still feel like a weird little freak, like I did in my teens? Hell yeah, some stuff just never changes. I still enjoy things I loved as a child, like video games, Pokemon, stuffed animals, and giggling. I still enjoy things I loved as a teen, like pop punk music, being annoying, and singing whenever the mood strikes. I still enjoy things I loved in college, like dancing enthusiastically, writing amateurish poetry, and crushing on women who will never, ever be into me. But now I'm just...30. More health issues. More scars. More silvery hairs that sparkle in the sun like some vampiric trope made real. But also...more memories that sweeten with time. More time spent in awe and revelry. More reveling in the beauty of nature. More of my own innate nature revealed to me as I sit with myself more, alone. I feel thirty, flirty, and thriving. I also feel as a child, as a teen, as a drunken young adult, bumbling around without knowing if what I'm doing is right. I'm just doing my best. That's all you really can do; embrace how you are now, and how you are tomorrow, and again, and again, and again.
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