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 Jun 2015 Liv
N
Yellow
 Jun 2015 Liv
N
I was driving down an old road this morning, one hand clenched to the handle of a porcelain coffee cup, one hand clenched to the wheel; digging my nails into the rubber. I've always hated driving, it was always a better place to be sitting in the passenger seat, your hand enfolded in mine. Im rolling through stop signs hoping maybe a car will hit their brakes a moment too late. Each road line painted a bright yellow, the kind that reminded me of a sun we used to watch rise off the balcony of our house. I didn't want to think about it too much, it would of brought me back to a better time and place than now but they always told me to keep my eyes on the road. It was easy to do until I passed by this field of yellow daisies, the kind that were printed on the spring sheets we'd wrap ourselves in on the mornings that rain kissed the roof. The kind that decorated the church on the day that I made a promise on forever. A forever that should of lasted longer than sickness can control.
The golden sun grazed it's rays over the old barn where we once sat in hay bails and counted constellations. The rays were blinding, but so was the memory that lit up with them. The yellow dress your mother wore on the day we lay you down 6 feet too deep. The day a rock became your welcome mat. The day I couldn't find the right way to say goodbye.
I was driving this morning. I'm laying in a hospital bed now. I'm sorry that the yellow lights of that truck drew me in. Somehow I saw you smiling at me through them. As I lay on the pavement in pools of red, the yellow lines of the road by my side, heartbeat coming down till all I can hear is the softness of your voice; I finally felt like maybe this is the only way home.
 Jun 2015 Liv
Doofinity
In the dark, yet the glare burns my eyes.
Silence, yet the screaming won't quiet.
My body is still, yet writhing in anguish.

Darkness, silence, stillness... This is the battle.
The old familiar lullaby of numb.
A beckoning finger, seducing me to depths of pitch black on a starless night.
I could sleep if the air wasn't stale.

I've been abandoned,  yet I refuse to be the abandoner.
I cannot give that pain away. It is mine to own.
I am surrounded by love, yet alone every direction I reach.

Abandoned,  pain... refuse, love, alone... Fight.
I cannot be selfish. Redirection is the only option.
I will not let go. Hold the pain close, never kiss the love with its sting.

Fight. With what weaponry? Armed with pain. Reaching, grasping for hope.
Protect the love. Do not let it fall to my fate.
Rebuild. Pain is my weapon. I could cause such harm,  shove them all away.
If only I could reach, yet if I did, I'd take the pain from them, protect them,
And sacrifice myself to no end, but an endless cycle.

Fight, protect, rebuild... armed with who I am.
Gather the pieces.  Put them together. Never in original form.
New stones, fresh mortar muddied with tears.  Reach, to find each stone.
Drag it into place, carefully stacked,  meticulous placement, calculated.
Construct not to protect me, not to hide, but to keep the love out of harms way.
Without love I am nothing.
Deny, refuse nothing.
Arms open, eyes wide.
Fight, for everything.
 Jun 2015 Liv
JR Falk
You and I were a natural disaster.
How we acted came naturally,
Though as natural as a volcano.
There is beauty in destruction.
And darling, we blew up.
We crumbled, we burned,
And we took others down with us.

The aftermath still isn't pretty,
But life is rebuilding around us.
It's avoiding the rough spots,
Still cooling off.
It's hard.
It's rocky.
It'll all come together soon, though.

I was magma, unstable, explosive.
You were the rock, the result of previous disasters.
You were simply trying to grow.
I was simply out of control.

You and I were a natural disaster.
And just like most eruptions,
We erupted when it was least expected.
Maybe now, I can cool.
I can stabilize and reform.
You can finally get the stability you need,
From a source less risky than I.

There is beauty in destruction.
6.17.2015
Meh. I just got an idea and tried building off of it.
 Jun 2015 Liv
unwritten
i remember those days when we would walk for hours and hours under the hot, beating sun with no destination in mind. nowhere to go, no one to see. just you, me, and the sun.

our bones were brittle, our cheeks were flushed, our bodies were sore. but we didn’t care. we had stopped caring about the little things.

we would laugh until our lungs burned and wake up every day thinking, “god, this really is a beautiful world if you make it one.”

we would smile until our cheeks hurt and pray that it would rain so we could dance in it.

we would sing until our throats were like sandpaper and lie down in the grass at night and look up at the stars.

we were wild.

we were beautiful.

we were free.

we were lost, but god, we were free.

one day you woke up and something shifted inside your heart and you said that you didn’t believe this was a beautiful world. you didn’t believe in you, or me, or us.

you didn’t want to laugh until your lungs burned or smile until your cheeks hurt or sing until your throat was like sandpaper.

you didn’t want to dance in the rain or look up at the stars.

one day i woke up and you were gone.

no note. no explanation. no goodbye. just gone.

you are gone, and i am still here.

i am still here, but now i wake up every morning wondering how i could have ever seen this world as beautiful.

i only like the rain now because it makes the sun a little more bearable (i’ve stopped dancing in it).

i don’t pay much attention to the stars anymore. all i know is that they make me feel just a bit less lonely.

it’s just me and the sun now, though sometimes i can feel you lying next to me and i reach over to grab your hand or look at you or say something but all i have is the sun.

not you.

we were never lost, you know. we just didn’t want to accept that we had always been found.

(a.m.)
.
 Jun 2015 Liv
Dreams of Sepia
It's not what you said
it's what the rain meant
it's not what you did
it's how the stars didn't shine
when you left
 Jun 2015 Liv
iridescent
Your ashes still burn in my throat. You were a fire I never should have set eyes on. These hungry flames left your name on the walls and all I wish is that you had covered your tracks because I still find myself hoping to find something I could throw away- I just want to be rid of you entirely.
 Jun 2015 Liv
iridescent
Life's a blank canvas and the artist's sometimes not you, but those who once came into you.

Some have sparks so blinding you almost forget the charred mess they made; some have hands so warm you couldn't resist memorising every contours of their palms that you almost would make a replica of them; some leave lines so intricate yet untraceable you wonder if they were supposed to be maps that lead to somewhere.

Learn to draw on your own and draw for your own. Paint all that is intangible and paint all that you that you could hold. Remember that no one could love you better than you do.
 Jun 2015 Liv
Tupelo
Women
 Jun 2015 Liv
Tupelo
She is a library,
I say this because it is hard
to compare her to anything else,
Inside her walls lies story after story,
Knowledge that is wise far beyond her years,
She is a beauty,
one that will belong to no one but her own,
Sometimes she will lend me parts of herself,
Books I will treat as such,
which if anything is not my own,
I will hold her spine dear,
Careful not to damage the pages
Drink her words, let them sit in the pit of stomach,
She will call back for the borrowed parts
These temporary treasures,
I will carry close to my chest
And cherish every word
 Jun 2015 Liv
iridescent
You claim you have never seen a supernova. Perhaps you hadn't witness beautiful things explode with such brilliance and never again.

If we all had a role to play on this earth, I'd say some are astronomists. They never stopped longing for the taste of a spark so distant, light years away; they never stopped chasing the lights that perished way back in time- that could only compare to a flickering candle but never to the twinkle in one's eyes.

Perhaps those who believed that we were made of stardusts, believed that what's inside of us were never alive.
some find beauty in tragedies and that's ******* sick.

— The End —