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erin-smithbw
erin-smithbw
You shall love your crooked neighbor, with all your crooked heart. ~ W.H. Auden
You were my beautiful urgency Your lips promised the world onto the fragmented map left in me A beautiful Pangaea sealed together The world stopped for us- the naive mapmakers While everything else spun into beautiful chaos The madness of the tectonic mountains stop for none Not even the innocent promises forged across the continents They laughed as their rifts battered our beating hearts, Until their was nothing left but a single pulse Memories flood me, brutally constant, like the tides angered at the shore When your laughter stretched across the ocean But somehow only seemed to reach me Pulse When we picked out the life our children would have, Like it was some neat and concise future picked from a catalog Pulse When our world went up in smoke, it had never been clearer Pulse When our hearts started beating for someone else Someone else besides for you and me Pulse When you walked away Pulse And I realized it was too late Pulse When I knew in that moment your brokenness would forever Cut sharply at my heart, etching those four words left unsaid Until I was as broken as your ghost Pulse When Pulse I Pulse Realized Pulse You Pulse Were Pulse My Pulse Everything Pulse And I was just your side thing. Pulse What can be said about your beautiful urgency when your time has run out?
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Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
My broken Pangaea
You think that just because you can use the f-bomb you can cause explosions.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Words
I fell in love with a composer He told me middle C was his favorite It a home That he could always find Right in the middle of all the crooked Black and whiteness He became the conductor of my life He used to tell me “I love you I love you I love you. Goodnight Goodnight Goodnight. See you in the morning See you in the morning See you in the morning” Over and over Becoming my anthem of lies I heard that the day she had left him He forgot to say it once So maybe I suppose He thinks that if saying it a single time Can’t save her ghost Then maybe saying it to me 100 times can He tried to take that repeat sign of his love Unwind it and bind My heart to his He couldn’t set me free Because he knew that if he did I’d never return You see I was never his I was supposed to compose a song About regret But baby if you put him and me Onto that page You’d have a symphony Of broken set of my chords That he couldn’t tune
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
Broken Symphonies