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  • Letter to My Future Self

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Poetry
Home›Poetry›LovING IT!

LovING IT!

By Olivia Fleming
February 16, 2026
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A digital drawing of two figures. One says: "I am." The other responds, "Who says?"
Coffee House Writers / Olivia Fleming
This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series Eat My Scraps, Please

Eat My Scraps, Please
  • Dear Me
  • Are You There?
  • I Called Him Scraps.
  • LovING IT!
  • All Things Begin Some Where
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“People are just as wonderful as sunsets if I can let them be… When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, “Soften the orange a bit on the right-hand corner,”…I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.” – Carl Rogers

I performed at the open mic!!!!!!

What is the point of life if not to go and get a coffee and a pastry?

Hey Freya!

I forgot but Mickey and I were joking around outside and we thought of the title ‘Running in Blazers’. Tbf I guess it is a bit rubbish but none of the other titles grabbed me. I think it needs to be something punchy that you see on a poster and you’re like wow! I wanna see that.
– Soil-y
– Watch this
– Mix em’
– Do you Know?    (About The Show? 20th of March)
      Old Market Square
             Come see The Show!
– Sculpting Heads

There are infinite numbers between 1 and 2!!!!!!!!!!

A Jack of all trades is better than a master of none

Gary Barlow wine –
“Get crunk off the Barlow”

Watch the meat you eat
You take on its pain
Biological trauma

How do you say ‘quark’ with a French accent?

In the beginning there was a sound. ‘Love’ was this word. She existed for so long until she got bored and lonely so she sprouted a child and it was her best friend and she gave it all her love so it grew big and strong but in order to do that she had to love herself just a liiittle bit less because only so much love and energy exist
So the child kept taking more and more to grow big and strong and Love kept giving more and more until Love became Death.
Mother Nature to the Grim Reaper

‘Taking care’ – that’s an oxymoron though? Shouldn’t it be ‘giving care’?? But I suppose you take on their struggles and pain and give care in return…
         And kneading. (/needing). That action. Pushing the dough and then curling it back.

Links to something I wrote a while ago in Australia:
“When things roll over, shadow forms
it’s like bending or folding something and placing it down
like those pop-up tents.”

(Byron Bay. 13/10/24):
another one of my circle poems

I find that art
and by extension, life
has a funny habit
      of consuming itself whole
if you leave it alone for long enough
     like a lost snake in the kitchen

He said I sound like the weekend/weekend as we eat the crumbs
       “I should have put them in the custard!” she said
a chamomile tea
and a can of VB
perched on a book
on the precipiced edge of a pool table
vanilla cocobella
    sponge cake
       high tea
tell me, does this taste funny?
      it’s probably because you just drank a VB with coconut yogurt
                          Ah…..
Can I make it better with a chamomile tea?
and a can of VB
            perched on a book
on the precipiced edge of a knife
vanilla cocobella
    sponge cake
        high tea
tell me, does this taste funny?
       it’s probably because you just drank a VB with coconut yogurt
                        Ah…..
Can I make it better with a chamomile tea?
       and a can of VB…
 but tell me,
   does this taste funny?
        tell me, does this taste funny?

7/12/25
Toast, tuna, pesto, sliced apple. Actually fucking good

^ ahaha that juxtaposition was unintentional and coincidental

*looking through my clothes*
‘Oh no, I woo the bloo yesterday’

Get out of the way! Allow yourself to step back!  Let this space fill. Expand.

Today I am sad. So I write poetry…

I work out my brambled knots
Coiled as a spring

Tendons
Pung
Like an elastic band

Little shoulders too hollow to bear
Bend

Never break

Little bird can fly 

Soft fingers
Gentle touch

Twinkled toes

To spin and skitter with the breeze

—–

Where the stakes are higher the win is bigger
Manic Depressive (?)

Mishearing a Scottish customer:
(Talking about something good)
“that’s the meat in the middle”
(She actually meant that it’s the perfume that meets in the middle – between the other two she was choosing, but I like my way better)

“Sorry I just messed”
(‘missed’ but in a Scottish accent – Incidentally also ‘messing’ by ‘missing’ hA
I also originally wrote ‘accident’ instead of accent. )

Sensations bridge the gap between
our internal and the external world

*ahem*
To Whomever It May Concern🫵, 

When it is convenient for both parties, may I be so bold as to requEst that my chilled lasagna be placed into the oven by somebody in the residence, so that I may return during my lunch break and consume it. An appropriate time shall be agreed upon. 

Kindest regards and Many-est of Thanks, 

Ol

Create like a child
Edit like a scientist – Tyler the Creator

“play over perfection”

Inspiration is an infinite source
– it happens to her often in transit

 When I eat green beans I think of you

What is Love?

Do I know?
I don’t know.

Maybe YOU know!?

HA – God only knows!

Not me.

Not me. .

Why not me!? I think I associate praise with love? This leads one to be hyper-aware of being perceived. Watched. Attempting to construct oneself in order to be deemed ‘praise-worthy’.  This creates a mask. 

Is this the ego?
What you do to please others?
The mind steps in to control your actions based on assumptions. It tries to predict what people will think of you and mediates your behavior in relation to this.

I call these ‘Thought Walls’.
They are created in an attempt to protect you
– is this what Jung meant by ‘the shadow?’

I see it as one’s ‘shell’.
Protecting the real, authentic and most vibrant ‘self’.
That which is in the present moment and does not fear.

Move from the Brain-Mind to the Heart-Mind.

…Look at Me.

I see more of you than I did before.
the blinds have been pulled up

the shutters thrown open 

behind your eyes

who has left the light on in your messy bedroom mind? 

————

she’s dancing
she’s dancing in there
i can see her through the open window
lit up like a christmas tree
sing your song girl
you’re never too old girl
forever cherry stoned and lined with gold girl 

—- ****

it gushes out to mix with the morning light
so much matter

i could really take a bite 

and smear my lips clean with a backhanded swipe 

then bury my fingers inside 

as it pools in the gaps between my teeth
bite down. chew slowly. pull away.

good morning!
would you like some butter on your toast?

an oyster moment !!

Reminder:
bring those black boots back
(try saying that 5 times haha)

Good art somehow describes the same thing as love
It’s Interconnectedness

I am you you are me

“Your body stores stress in places you forget to touch”

A collective!!

A morning in the park
Sunlight so warm I
Forget it could be dark

Tongued in brightness
Oh, this funny aliveness
To be so self-aware

Aha! The girl smiles. She is still walking. She is still reading. She is still on her way to meet Overlord Fathead. Just checking in to see whether you are still paying attention, Dear Reader. Try not to get too lost in the pockets of Olivia’s mind. Even she struggles with it sometimes. . . Anywho – Let’s see what Scraps & co. are up to! The girl likes this little interlude. Creativity can be even more fun with parameters. We like to challenge ourselves.  

10 randomly generated words:

1. concept
2. peel
3. quantity
4. waterfall
5. deserve
6. leaf
7. egg
8. brag
9. knowledge
10. inside

  1. Do you understand the concept yet, dear reader? Not quite? That’s okay. I’ll wait for you to catch up.
  2. Scraps opened up the pocket of his waistcoat and began to peel an egg. 
  3. A small – but still too large – quantity of shell smattered my cheekbones. I coughed in annoyance. 
  4. “Careful,” said Scraps. “Or I’ll make a waterfall”.
  5. “A waterfall of egg peel,” I mused. The stars winkled at me. Teehee! They chirped. We see you! “What a strange sentence.”
    “No.” Scraps said. “I was threatening to piss on you. Up, up, or I’ll do it. You deserve it.” He bit down into the hard-boiled egg.
  6. I scrambled to my feet: “I don’t be-leaf it! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
  7. Scraps placed the remaining egg flesh onto his tongue. Sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. He swallowed.
  8. “I don’t mean to brag, honey, but there are many different things wrong with me. My ears are too small, my spleen sits too far to the left, my personality design is non-existent, and I’ve managed to ascend the nature of this reality – to name but a few.”
  9. “…You also have the knowledge?” I asked suspiciously. 
  10. “Yes.” Somber Scraps appeared. “It lives inside of us. It beats in our hearts and in our minds. Few are quiet enough to hear it, and even fewer know what to do with it once it is learned.”

WELL, Dear Reader!

Aren’t you CurioUs yet? 


Editor: Shannon Hensley

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Eat My Scraps, Please

I Called Him Scraps. All Things Begin Some Where
TagsspiritualJournalmetafictionExperimental Poetry
Previous Article

The Codfish Carbuncle Case: Chapter 1

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An ILL One’s Wish

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Latest Comments

  • Ivor Steven
    on
    March 4, 2026
    Thank you so much for your lovely words, and forreading my poem here on CHW, Eugi ...

    Dawn’s Symphony of Light

  • Eugi
    on
    March 3, 2026
    Lovely poem, Ivor. You beautifully expressed morning bliss. 💕

    Dawn’s Symphony of Light

  • Ivor Steven
    on
    February 19, 2026
    Thank you very much for reading my poem here on CHW magazine. It was a fortuitous ...

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Ivor Steven
    on
    February 19, 2026
    Thank you for reading my poem here at CHW; I appreciate your thoughtful comments, EugiI

    Beyond My Outpost

  • Cheryl Batavia
    on
    February 18, 2026
    Ivor, the photo is perfectly paired with this poem, both reflecting the uncertainties of this era.

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