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avaayo
I like looking at the narrow spaces Between houses as the train passes by. I like looking at the narrow spaces Because they remind me of my childhood. The empty narrow inches of space Between two enormous brick houses I'd obliviously pass by while playing tag, Smiling from ear to ear, Leaving only a narrow space for my teeth. Running from dusk until dawn, Leaving only a narrow space for bruised knees and tears. And now the narrow spaces I pass every day Between worn out houses in the city Remind me of my heart. So big, yet so full of others' pain That all I have is narrow spaces Reserved for my own joy. And now the narrow spaces I pass every day Between graffitied houses in the city Remind me of my brain. So tagged with useless information, Yet so little space to paint true knowledge on. And so I stare at the narrow spaces Between houses as the train passes by While I'm on my way To waste the tiny chunks of time I have left Hoping to widen the narrow spaces Of my soul.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
The Spaces
You say you know me, But you don’t know me because you tried, You know me because I made myself known. You only know my favorite flowers are lilacs because I’d make you stop your truck so I could pick them off of strangers’ yards You only know my favorite color is yellow because I’d pick up yellow paint shades every time you dragged me to Lowe’s You only know I love the smell of cigarettes and coffee because I’d breathe in deeply the combination of their aromas, With a Marlboro on one hand and a frappe on the other. And anything that I cannot show you You cannot know, because You cannot look into my eyes and See what lies behind them. You say you know me, but Do you really?
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Know
Things I’ll miss from Earth: The smell of the beach, Sun, sand and salty water serenely as one. The aroma that lingers every time I gently lay my head on his chest. The beats and bass of summer songs, Caressing my ears as I stomp on the accelerator, Wind from the sunroof adjusting my golden locks. The melody in my mom’s voice As she quietly hums while rinsing the dishes, Bubbles of soap floating up from the sink. My innocent childhood, Racing bikes downhill and helplessly braking, Blowing burnished bubbles for hours and hours, Sun tanning in the backyard, eyes closed, Picturing palm trees and coconuts, My heartbeat matching the waves: swish, swoosh. My dad’s mouth-watering steak, The unavoidable aroma lingering through the house, Juices dripping off the baking pan, Forks and knives prepared for feast. Strolling along the street of my first abode, Carefully examining the ground, Wary to step on the wobbly cobblestones, Creaking open the old wooden door into my stone yard, Climbing the three humongous steps into the foyer. Most of all, I’ll miss the hope. The hope that pulls me out of bed every morning. The hope that this life is worth my sacrifices. The hope that pain will no longer surround me, Not even a pinch. But even though I’ll be dead, My hope will live on, Surrounding those left behind, The ones that need it the most.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Hope
Those beautiful green eyes glance at me And meet my gaze in the almost darkness A comfort so novel yet so familiar Settles into my chest. Your bronze skin intensified, Your hand slowly traveling across my thigh Sends shivers down my leg guided by your hand And I savor the moment, Because soon I’ll be heading home alone Wishing I could stay but we both know he’s waiting And I can’t bring myself to deceive him But this unwanted thought interrupts, As you maneuver my chin closer And you lean in forcefully, kiss me madly Passion searing through your lips, your tongue, Your scent imprints my clothes, unforgettable Then you lift up my shirt, a cold hand on my stomach. Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me stop you. I gather all my strength, weak from your spell And I stop your hand from ascending further. Your eyes depict hatred - no - disappointment. You don't want this more than me - I swear. See, all guys like you have great potential. You can make a girl fall in love with just a snap of your fingers, But you always choose to shatter the fairy tale With a hand that reaches too far.
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
Tempted