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juniperjones
juniperjones
F it's juniper jones not junie b jones
They never had and I don't think they could ever again. It's not just the parts of my body that I use to tread on, to continue on foot when the rest of me can't catch up. Everything has outgrown such commodities; my legs, my hands, my neck and head. I got taller with a straighter back and a chin raised high to show that no fear runs through these thriving veins - a fear that is nonesuch to the person that rises with the waves of orange and pink, that pour onto the wide unknown above but is restless when the night spills black ink with specks of white. The clothes on my back have ripped at the seams with a tear so loud and big, the hands that once cared couldn't sew it back together. The silver needle with the sharp tip, pricked at their hungry, outstretched hands saying, "Don't touch because the wounds you left are deep enough". This head so full yet so empty. These old shoes don't fit like they used to because they have been tugged on, the heels crushed by another, and their once tied laces frayed with the tip split open like a mouth with no tongue. I cannot give you more when I have nothing of my worth that I want to lose.
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Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
these old shoes don’t fit like they used to.
no matter where i look my eyes seem to find you in the crowd of many amongst the plenty you are there and so am i but the space between is unsurprisingly wide i don’t want to let the words that once thrived within begin and continue so stop your looking because i'm trying not to find you and i know you aren't trying to find me stop your staring your eyes draw in more than they should and mine push away what they can't bare because i found myself thinking about you too much not a lot but too much in the context of too much too full too little too soon i found myself thinking about you too much and i don't know what to do
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Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
i found myself thinking about you too much
it's the simplest fact easing through my cracks and caves but unbeknownst, a bittersweet act the thing i want, the thing i crave the words i want to be said, to be saved can you hear me in my silence?
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Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
volume.
of pools of brown and irises of gold your eyes were the sweetest i've known so serene, yet hid the roughness tucked with secrets and stories they held a softness of pools of brown and- irises of gold your eyes were a truth they were the coolest they were the warmest i've ever seen their own sun a comfort o' how your eyes were magnets to my words the inner most depths of my virtue
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Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
pools of gold.