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margaret-miller
American Just looking for an outlet.
More than Dido, whose love was sparked by Gods. More than Helen whose love fueled ships and fell the walls of Troy. Unmatched by the passion of Francesca thrown about on endless winds. Thicker than the flames that licked through Cleopatra's heart. Deeper than the hell into which sank jilted Phaedra. Such is my love for you.
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Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
The Classics
How do I say it so that you can hear me? I can't yell if my lungs won't fill My heart is swollen and throbbing weakly Prolonging the charade of life I can't tell you what I want if you think you already know My destiny is in your hands and you're squeezing I'm waiting for you to decide what's best for me My mouth won;t make the sounds to tell you I don't need your ring or your paycheck or your baby I just need your hand and your heart next to mine
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Keeper
I'm lost Out to sea, treading water The fish pass by and ask "Can I help?" No, no, just swimming They say "don't worry, It gets easier, you'll drown soon." And my tears make the sea swell The shadows circle below me The sun beams and smiles My skin cracks and shrivels I drift farther and farther Pulled this way and that By the riptide you threw me into I dip beneath the waves I'm thrown about and drown a little I succumb and feel the blackness swell I thrash and reach the surface again I wheeze, I cough, I sob And I will never stop trying to reach you I will swim to your shore Or I will sink in your ocean
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
A day at the beach
How do you wake up? Get dressed? Go to work? How do you wash your hair? Brush your teeth? How do you live without your heart? How do you believe when everything around you is crumbling? How do you make a wish when everything you wanted is already gone? How does life go on when the life you were living is no more? How do you heal when you want this open wound more than anything? How do you pretend you're still a person? How do you not think about killing yourself? How do you make it stop?
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Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
How
I need a hit It's been far too long Since you pumped through my veins It seems like a lifetime ago That I felt your delicious sting And yet the needle is still warm From the last time I had your drug I'm still bleeding From the hole your love tore through my skin Hold me down and find the nerve The one that only you can control Do your worst And it will be the best I've ever had Hurt me, burn me, make me feel ***** Keep me on edge and ruin my life And I will thank you for it Because nothing can be as maddening As being without you
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
addict
the heavenly vision of your face smiles down on me your brown eyes shine with mystery and desire they pierce through all of my disguises and you see me and you're the only one who can strip my soul bare oh god, I can smell you in my clothes that intoxicating scent that fills my senses and brings me back to moments with you moments you spent making sure I'd remember the taste of your kiss lingers on my lips making them tingle they long to be kissed by you again each time our lips meet we are one heartbeat connected for an instant and a lifetime to hear you speak is to hear music from the angels your voice consumes me until your words alone control me your sweet whispering melody washes over my soul bathing me in radiating warmth I can feel your breath on my neck promising me boundless ecstasy and filling me with anticipation one caress of your gentle hand and my walls tumble down my threshold is breached and the flood gates are open
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
sensory
I spent last night clutching a pillow that wasn't you And praying that your skin is more delicate So that next time we collide you can bleed for me like I bled for you And we can be whole again like when we first started
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Crash
How can it be that I can feel every beat of my heart resonating through me like church bells and still feel like there's an empty hole where my heart should be? I'm hollow except for the pain, the phantom pain like that of an amputee clutching a shattered limb and stretching fingers that will only ever again touch in his mind. The heart that you took with you when you left me still pumps and stings but won't feel anything real ever again. And I'm proud. Proud of how I lost my heart to you in the heat of battle, the heat of passion. I'll tell war stories to the neighborhood kids sitting on my front porch and I'll show them the scars from where you cut out my heart. And then at night I'll open my window and look up at the moon, I'll look up at the same moon that you see and I'll smile because somewhere out there you have my heart on your shelf, a trophy of your first conquest. And though I've lost the war I revel in the fact that I was important enough for you to conquer, that I was enough of a challenge to be your first triumph. I can only hope that when you tell your war stories the story of your first win will be as glorious as the story of my final defeat.
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
War Stories
I'm screaming on the inside for you to help me The blood drips onto idle hands Hands that are clawing from the inside out I yell and curse and bleed and cry And you see smiles and bright eyes You see the facade, the shell, the cage And he sees the animal He sees the rage and the tears and the bleeding gashes And he unlocks the door and comes to me With water and bandages He lifts my broken head and caresses to stop the keening Shows me beautiful things and nurtures back my health And he loves me And I'm his And it's quiet
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
The Cage
I will never be that girl. I will never have blonde hair, pink nails, red lips. I don't have a cosmo in my oversized coach bag. I bite my nails, I get bug bites, I pick at them. My face is splotchy and I don't cover it up with make up. I sneeze and throw up and get infections. I fall down. I will never have a bikini body. I wear a bikini anyway. I have freckles, scars, scabs, and I'm so pale that you can see every blue vein in my body. My handwriting looks like that of a 5 year old boy. I will never be the girl in the pink summer dress with the high heeled sandals. My room is a mess. My car is a mess. My brain is a mess. I say things like "I wonder what human tastes like." I freak out over a home made Ouija board that I didn't even use. Then I go watch the scariest movie I can find. I used to sleep with a Freddy Kruger doll. I root for the bad guy. I'm stubborn. I'm angry. I'm aggressive. I'm passive aggressive. I'm damaged goods. I will never be that perfect embodiment of woman. Blonde hair, dresses, heels, white teeth, positive outlook. I'd rather be friends with my books than actual people. And you love me anyway.
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
Anyway