Arbor Brewing Co.

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I had a boyfriend, once,

an artist—

he introduced me to Ray LaMontagne

and Wilco…

he worked at Disney for a while, or so he said.

 

He was an artist, and I was a writer, and

the two of us smashed together.

 

If you read this, Tyler Aaron Travis,

(a name I will remember for forever)

I want to thank you for saying

I’m the best indie writer you’ve ever known.

                                         

And I will never forget our first date at the

Arbor Brewing Company.

Do Soulmates Even Exist?

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When will I find the one?

That’s what people wandering wonder;

they worry over love, and finding their soulmate,

never considering that

we are capable of loving many

over a lifetime, and

sometimes

all at once.

 

My heart is full to swelling,

and I wish it wasn’t

because it makes it

harder to be true to the one that

I want to be the one

 

The one

I see myself bound to for eternity.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Pinterest)

Chordae Tendineae

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Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart—

be mine

own Orpheus; private poet,

sing me your soul.

Tell me you’ll give me adoration, heavy—

more than mine arms can carry,

plus.

 

I promise I will dance for you like

Eurydice,

cherished wife.

 

I promise I will strip for you like

prostitutes do,

but for the low, low price of

one true sweetheart.

 

Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart

when I wake up bathing

in mine

own vomit, cos I gone and done it

again—

got stupid

over the love of a lyre.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Wikipedia)

Viscera in Danger (revamp)

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Their need is visceral. Oh!

Pretty blonde girl,

fresh trailer park trash,

junkyard dogs snarl and quarrel over your flesh—

tongues wag to get at your bones.

Twelve years old, and

your marrow is aromatic.

 

Mother’s a full-time drunk, and you

only got a part-time daddy.

 

Good luck, babe;

welcome to Contaminated Manor.

Find your place in the Court somehow

without

letting them taste you.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Pinterest)

You Cannot Have Me As You Like (revamp)

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I know,

I know,

I’m such a drag—

sucks you

cannot have me as you like.

 

Menthol ciggie makes my mouth pertty

dirty, but the

whiskey makes my tongue taste like

Sunday morning

sex.

Are you really so disgusted, or just

pissed I make you

flex?

 

So I’m not Lady-like.

I’m Woman-like. And

you’re a fucking drag,

like.

 

Such a fucking drag—

sucks you

cannot have me.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

(image: Pinterest)

Beefeater: Sorry I’m a Bitch

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I’m cruel—

too cool for school.

I don’t even want your lunch money—

happy to beat you up for free.

Besides, your heart has always been

nourishment enough for me.

Slice through the muscle like

you’re carving rare beef, and

serve it on the bone china I’d fashioned from your rib cage.

 

I’m sorry I think

when I drink

too much.

 

(image: Pinterest)