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  Jun 2018 AllAtOnce
b
if you want a true lesson
in disappointment
move to a small town
and watch the power go out.

this like many things
is nothing like the movies.
  Jun 2018 AllAtOnce
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
AllAtOnce Jun 2018
i want to touch the stars
in the skies
like you touched me—
with all kinds of
steady hands and
breathing confidently.

i wish i could brush stardust
off of my fingertips
like your thigh brushed against mine—
with all kinds of
painful knowing and
just trying to get by.

i would love to watch
you disappear like stars in the
light-polluted
smog-city sky,
but the stars somehow shine
even brighter
in your ocean-colored eyes

so maybe i should start
wishing on stars to
sink,
and drown,
and die.
AllAtOnce Jun 2018
my favorite thing
about you was the way that
you fell
from the sky and
set my entire universe aflame
with a white-hot
accidental fire
and the way you let everything
burn down
instead of roasting marshmallows
over the ashes of our
minuscule town
because if we can’t celebrate
the inevitable destruction
of our lives
then maybe you should’ve
stayed in the sky
AllAtOnce Jun 2018
the monsters lurking
behind my eyelids
make up nebulas of
nightmares
and the pieces of
every man
i have yet to love

because sooner or later
everyone
lets you down
and terrifies you
and explodes

but i don’t think that i could love
any other way
so i beg the monsters
to please
stay.
AllAtOnce Jun 2018
you know,
people are kind of
like stars,
and not because of
the way that they
glow radioactive,
grant fairytale wishes,
or shoot across the sky,
but because of the
way that they
explode
into dust,
inhaling the broken remnants
into their black holes,
just like you drew my shattered pieces
into yours.
AllAtOnce Apr 2018
Everything stops.
Rain stops falling like
a two-year-old’s tantrum tears,
and rocks stop skipping when
inertia gives in to gravity.
Clocks stop ticking when the
gears start to rust,
and hearts stop beating, like
a melody too tired to play.
Just as “I love you” stops buzzing like
insects in my head,
and you stop caring whether or not
we see each other that day.
Eventually, our time here will stop, too.
And looking back,
maybe you’ll wish
that I never stopped and that
you never gave yourself
the chance to.
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