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She Was BeautifulI bet when she got close enough to you
she smelled like roses.
I bet the shine in her eyes
reflected something in you
that made your lips smile.
I damn well bet somewhere under your
steel-gray dress shirt
and graphic tee
there was a heart that beat
And it was crushed
just as easily
as it came.
Because when blood spills
out the tips of your fingers
and breath out the hole
in your chest,
that's when all senses
and all flames
with your wrists.
But she was worth it.
And Rainbow SocksShe wore a black bracelet.
It was thin;
so thin no one could see it.
She never took it off
so it drove a deep imprint
through the top of her wrist.
But no on ever saw that either,
and those that did--
NotI want to pluck off every one of her petals
and leave behind the shell of a flower.
He loves me.
I want to rip out every piece of his hair
and make him ugly,
so she won't call him beautiful anymore.
He loves me not.
a little more
(or maybe we'd just go broke).
she didn't believe in anything but cigarettesmy mother tells me not
to cry over spilled milk
but it makes it so much
easier to forget about
the bloody bird laying
dead on the bathroom tile
hide and seekeveryone looks to the stars
but maybe if we focused more
on the grains of sand
beneath our feet we might
just find something a little
SonnetMy world has gone ahead and left me here
To keep myself awake through lonely nights.
I cannot help but wonder, wait, and fear;
And fight between the weights of wrong and right.
Warmth has left, and in it's place --a shiver
Now keeps me from the realm of blessed sleep.
You were once my strength, but now I quiver,
For when you left you took with you my peace.
So my heart will try to beat --but faintly.
I'll sit in patience 'waiting your return.
The life I felt before --a distant mem'ry.
With every breath I take I feel the burn.
I made the choice to love and set you free --
Embracing hope, I wish you back to me.
i was never good at starting these things
did you know some flowers
only open at night?
they must not be very afraid
of the dark
i wish i could say the same
i can't light my candle anymore,
maybe it's telling me
that i should stop trying
i didn't really like that blister
on my thumb anyways
i noticed that my veins
were the same color as the ocean
and i made myself bleed
my veins lied and blood is red, not blue
i guess i just thought i was different
i wish you could read these
i don't know how to write anymore
and i always knew this would happen sometime.
but god why now?
i still haven't figured out what i wanted to say
this will be my last letter to you
and i thought i'd let you know
that i will never know what i wanted to say
i was never really good at ending these either
wendy was the lucky onedrowned by somber
in a sea of atramental
"black as November,"
my mother said
he went peacefully
in his sleep, they wept
17 is too young
for the hands of death
but death reached anyways
i knew why he kept
his window open in
below zero temperatures
and let the cold in
i wonder if his tears
froze to his cheeks
i love you because you existjust two little boys
playing with matches,
they started a spark i
could feel in the
pit of my stomach and baby
are tongues are like daggers;
each time we kiss it's
a sword fight i can never
quite win but there's still
something beautiful about the
way you call me princess.
maybe it's because you make
it believable or maybe it's
the way this wildfire
is devouring my being,
leaving nothing but a desire
for the way you hold me
this isn't something i can
sweat or starve out of me,
i'll have to write and it will
see i've often thought about
placing my head in the pestle
and mortar, i wonder if i could
grind out the hell inside, become
a red pulp on the worktop, and
even the oven keeps tutting at me,
it's so easy, just open the door
stick your hand in, feel his forked
tongue on your palm,
orange lover, you
and it's true
that the dead are never really
silent, they grunt and they groan
in their damp soil sheets,
toss and turn over
(fill the bath with water, and just drop me in it)
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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