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  Jan 2016 Patty Nieberg
love me
hints are everywhere
behind every favorite song
lies an unimaginable story
behind every just kidding
lies some truth
behind every quote
lies some pain

society is incapable of noticing these
they'll say "i didnt know"

i say "you didnt ask"
Patty Nieberg Jan 2016
It’s cold and crushing,
hitting you like icy waves on a closed off beach in the winter.

Wind whips your cheeks like they’ve done wrong;
You are being punished.
The cold air bites your eye ***** and draws tears as if they were blood.

Healing is in forgiving.

You want to say you’re sorry
but the apologies can’t come quick enough;
the winter won’t forgive you.
You won’t forgive you.
  Jan 2016 Patty Nieberg
Danielle Shorr
sometimes getting out of bed feels more like a climbing
and some mornings waking up can be a triathlon of effort
I have completed many

sometimes I am all muscle
sometimes I am all skin
sometimes I am the long lost cousin of regret
sometimes I am the farthest thing from human

some days I am a Saturday
some days I am more Monday
some days I am both
it does not matter which day it actually is
it does matter if I can't remember

I get lost often
in poetry
in the process of writing
in movies
and moments of comfort

I don't think about the future a lot
but occasionally I'll wonder what it would be like to live happily in it
Now and then I'll draw people into mine and imagine how they'd fit

I take things day by day but tomorrow still excites me nonetheless

I was fifteen when I got my nose pierced
sixteen when I switched the stud for a ring
seventeen when I got my driver's license
and at eighteen I finally stopped sleeping with a nightlight

I am terrified of the dark
but I will never admit it

I am terrified of losing things
but I will hold onto my pride like it's my sole source of surviving

I will not always be smiling
know that if I am not, it’s not your fault
know that if I am, it is

it took me years to correctly pronounce ptsd
it took me a few, two exactly
to admit that I have it

know there will be days when the storm is too heavy to fight off alone
the winds too strong to fend off with just these arms
I will not ask for your help
I will think that I don't need it
I will

know that your laugh will never become secondary
your happiness, always a priority
I have loved too much for far too long to not do so consistently

I'm a hopeless romantic
but often times I will just be hopeless
this
is when I will need you most
when the loud of my vocality has turned itself quiet
when I can blame only tired for my weakness
this
is when I will need to be reminded
of that tomorrow that excites me so greatly
tell me
about all the times the stars were told they wouldn't glow bright and center
tell me about all those instances of defiance
tell me about the moments where the sun refused to let the clouds block her bravery
how she still manages to make herself known in the midst of chaos
tell me
is there anything more worth it
than being unabashed in your awareness?
to know that this is what I am
and it is all I have to offer
?

the thing is
I don't have a lot to offer you
only poorly composed sonnets and a good 99% of my affection
the other one percent
I'm saving for myself to have on a rainy day

the thing is
I don't have a lot to give
but I do have words I am willing to tie into stanzas
I will wrap them up and call them gifts
I've got a body,
not perfect but it's mine
and I'd love for you to know it

the thing is
there are a lot of things you should know about me
before you love me
but the truth is
a lot of them you really won't find out
until you do
and that alone
is the best part
about it
  Jan 2016 Patty Nieberg
kaitlyn-marie
on monday mornings we used to grab each other’s arms
and trace lines from the wrist to the shoulder,
trying to guess when we got touched in the middle.
since our eyes were closed, nobody
had to see my fingers.
pick, rip.
there’s always a name for what plagues you
and mine tasted the same
as charlie brown’s unrequited love.
the only thing that tasted worse
was the word that we couldn’t say out loud.
but on sunday bright and early
they’d grab us by the shoulders
and stare into our eyes until
we repeated those universal truths
what goes up must come down,
don’t swim right after you eat,
even satan knows
that there’s something out there.
Patty Nieberg Jan 2016
I have never been one to not feel every emotion that came my way
And when I feel  I don't just cry and move on
I ache
My chest fills up with an empty air
that makes it hurt of being filled
The weight of my lungs are enough to drag me under ground
My heart is rocks dropping one by one into my stomach
My organs hit my feet and I look down and see them
I'm feeling too much to pick them up

My eyes are burning and foggy even though my thoughts and confusion are clear
My arms and legs are lead attached to my torso that can't move but wipe the tears and sweat of feeling from my face

When I feel
it's not only a sadness but the heaviest blow to the stomach
a punch that won't heal too easily

My feelings are bruises that are blue and black, thick and deep, and they aren't forgiving like I am

I will forgive and move on,
but my feelings...
not so much
  Jan 2016 Patty Nieberg
Danielle Shorr
Loving you feels like home
like a fireplace I never took the time to sit in front of
like this warmth is a newness I am just now experiencing for the first time
like I don't even know how to be cold anymore
loving you looks like a sunday morning
or a tuesday
like a bed with tangled sheets
like the glow of sunrise crawling in through cracks in the blinds
like the dent in the mattress of a body
yours fitting perfectly parallel to mine
like the mess of human we are
poured together between silk and skin
reaching for a touch to remind us that this
is real
like I have never seen eyes look at me the way yours do
loving you sounds like the loud of my laughter
unbound in its arrival
like the calm of silence
like I could build a fort out of it
like blowing out the candle in the corner of the room
and how comfort stays still even in darkness
loving you tastes like the corners of my lips stretching outward
like the habit of a smile forming
like a permanent sweetness on the tongue
like a craving I could never lose
Loving you smells like my sweatshirt
like your face buried in my neck,
my own pressed against the soft of your chest
like how knowing your morning breath is a privilege
loving you is like a poem without ending
like I never want to write ours
so I wont
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