~Look, I'm sorry I told you that you are ugly.
Sometimes I just can't believe what I see.
We can be friends, maybe.
I'll tell you how beautiful you are.
Because you are me.
Sometimes I hate you,
Sometimes I don't understand you.
But one thing we can both agree,
Is that I don't mean those things.
And I'm so, so sorry...
....
....
....
that you had to be me. </3~
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
During my first year you met my Aunt
I barely knew her, but you taught her well.
She didn’t fight, She didn’t fuss,
She closed her eyes and turned to dust.
I didn’t know why, I wasn’t told when
But then one day, you took my best friend.
I sat on the stairs; tears turned to waterfalls,
No one to hug, No one to love.
My precious love, only seven years old,
Distracted by green, I forgot what love could mean.
I never knew August could feel so cold
That brisk summer day haunts my nights
Worked every day 50 years straight
Greasy hands, paper bag lunch.
Four daughters, hands held tight
One was there to guide him to the light.
He said, “Everything’s nifty, everything’s neat”
Without him holidays were incomplete.
No explanation, a phone call in the dark
Seeing sweater vests still hurt my heart.
Three generations under her family tree.
Ninety-eight years wise, she welcomed her passing;
She’d seen wars beyond my understanding
But there were no regrets; she had no reason to be upset.
I’ve thought about meeting you, I’ve considered it a lot
Yet every time, I’ve always stopped.
When you’re ready, you know where I’ll be
And when I get there, I know whom I’ll see.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Propped like a porcelain doll,
Snowflake skin and hot cocoa hair,
She sits upon a honey-glazed pedestal.
Crystal cerulean eyes and frost bitten cheeks
Emerald bow laced in her curls, glittered with gold.
She is a perfect present.
“Better to be seen, not heard”
Engraved in her brain, rehearsed in her manner.
She has an exquisite mind, but why would anyone listen?
Piano on Tuesdays, equestrian on Thursdays
Arrive ten minutes early because on time is late.
She is a master at playing the game.
Every night she climbs back up the pedestal,
Processes the day, prepares for tomorrow.
She always remembers: one mistake and she will fall.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC