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WrittenTherapy
WrittenTherapy
F i'm not a writer. or a poet. not really. i am, however, a complete wreck.©
in the dark depths of despair i thought of joining you aching with grief as if struck too i was lost in the loss of you but pain doesn't heal hurt and more death can't bring us to life so i carry you inside because as long as i love you you're alive
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May 10, 2022
May 10, 2022 at 10:10 AM UTC
lost to loss
stop throwing stones of judgement when we are all made of glass
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Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
fragile
I woke up suddenly at 3am Disoriented and dizzy Not sure if from a dream or nightmare My eyes scanned the dark Trying to reassure myself of the here and now My breathing shallow My body trembling and covered in a cold sweat Overcome with the urge to talk to you like I use to A thrumming need to have you close pulsed beneath my chilled skin I sighed and adjusted for comfort Tucked NotBob back under my head Closed my eyes and calm breathed myself back to sleep
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
3 o'clock Deja Vu
I have a light inside of me that occasionally is eclipsed by a darkness that also lives inside of me.
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Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
Eclipse
How quickly a day becomes a week becomes a month becomes a year And a stranger becomes a friend becomes a lover becomes a ghost
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Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
Transformation of Time
How did we ever live apart from each other? Were we even really living?
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Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC
Questions
There are times I miss you so much I wish I remembered where I placed your memory Which box in which dark corner holds the sound of your voice Where did I bury your smile and the feeling of your eyes saying I’m beautiful I scattered the ashes of your burnt words and on occasion regret that I didn’t keep a special three to visit during my lonely sleepless nights There are times I miss you so much I almost go searching for you
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Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
Misplaced Memories
Flowers remind me of death My father clutching a pathetic handful of convenience store bouquet flowers Jack and desperation in his voice begging my mother- the woman he beat and walked out on to raise three traumatized children alone- to take him back Alcohol convincing him that she was the true love of his life His sun bronzed hands grasping at hope long since murdered brought flowers to the funeral of their relationship Flowers remind me of death Your smile and laugh silenced too soon Your whole amazing being shoved into a box Entombed six feet below my world’s surface Overly sweet petals prettily masking the decay in my heart caused by losing you Flowers in all their beauty remind me of death
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Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
I'm Not The Flower Type
The internet is slow and people keep disconnecting Bubbles of self importance Removed from humanity The world crumbles and there’s concern over a mistakenly made overpriced coffee First world problems focused on the wrong crisis
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Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
First World Crisis
I wear this costume you provide And recite the script you wrote. I shove myself aside to live in the shadows of this person you created. I live this lie daily. With no breaks in character. Have I pleased you yet? Are you satisfied with my performance? Now that I've changed myself for your enjoyment, do you love me? Because I'm ******* dying.
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Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Critics