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AmberLynne Jul 2015
I show the world my flowers,
daisies flowing from my fingertips,
smiling with the brightness of tulips,
and leaving a trail of poppy footprints
with each step I take.

I present this spring-themed Monet masterpiece,
careful to conceal the chaotic overcrowding
pushing, building pressure beneath the surface.
This rootbound torture belies the floral illusion,
and if you peer closely at the pretty pastels,
you'll see they're nothing more than
brush strokes and broken hopes.
6.5.2015
AmberLynne Jul 2015
You stumbled upon me
     when I was down on my knees.
Broken, I told you not to bother,
     but you knelt beside me
     and reached out a hand.
Helping me up slowly,
     you showed me your own
     bruised and ****** body.
And I knew you had been stuck
     down there before too.
So I met your eyes cautiously
     and let you guide me to my feet.

I think if you had stopped there,
     we wouldn't be here today.
But you weren't content
     with just setting me on my feet.
You gave me a step up,
     then another,
          and another,
until you had me on a pedestal
     I never wanted.
I was never meant to be
     the princess in the tower.
I can't live up to that.
Heights scare me,
     and the air suffocates up there.
So with the pressure pushing in,
     I did the only thing I could
     to free myself from the fearful view.
                                                           ­           I jumped.
2.23.2015
AmberLynne Jul 2015
.                                                   I miss you.
Every morning when we part ways,
                                                    I miss you.
Throughout every day I'm thinking of you,
                      always,
                                                    and I miss you
until the moment we're together again.
My body misses yours
when we unwittingly pull apart
in the depths of our slumber,
and I seek you out sleepily,
needing to have you closer.
But most of all
                                                    I miss you
when I've been looking forward to you
because I've had a hard day
and my own frustration is exactly
what causes me to
                         push you
                                                    away.
I lash out at you,
and wind up missing you most
when we're side
                          by
                            side.

And in the moments that follow
I realize and regret my mistake,
but can never seem to correct
that crash course of action.
So I fold
      down
      deep
      into myself,
hoping with all of my might
that you won't one day grow tired
of this undeserved fight
and leave me
          crumpled
      in the dirt.
                  Not that I could blame you, really.

But please,
           oh please,
you really must know
the reason I try to learn
from my rash reactions
and grow as a person.
Look in the mirror
and you'll see it right away,
the very thing that keeps me
going each
            and every day.
7.7.15
AmberLynne Jul 2015
After repeated inquiries
into the state of my mind
                                                      you
resort to lingering side-
long glances, trying to
                                                      see
the truth behind my
steadfast denials and
imitation smiles.

You attempt slyness, but
                                                      I'm
qui­ck to notice these
analytical gazes. It's not
your fault that I am
both unable and unwilling
to allow you into
the maze of my mind.

Though hurtful
to us both, it's
                                                      just so
much easier to lash out
than to let you in.

There's simply nothing
                                                      goo­d
in there, you see. Trust
me when I say the terrors
flinging themselves
                                                      ­at
my brain will gladly
make you their prey too.
No one is safe from my
                                                      sabotage­.
7.2.15
AmberLynne Jun 2015
.                                                         ******* *****.
The words come out swift
                          and angry,
accompanied by the contempt
                          in your eyes.
                                                         ******* *****.
I stand, accosted by your
                          animosity,
accepting every insult you fling so
                          unceremoniously.
                   ­                                      ******* *****.
Sorry, don't think I heard you quite
                          well enough.
Please, repeat so I may keep your words
                          clutched closely.
                                                         ******* *****.
I take these taunts you throw out
                          so casually,
                          mold them tightly
                          into a ball
and force them down my throat,
                          swallowing them
                          like the poison
                          that you are.
                                                       ******** *****.
6.15.15
AmberLynne May 2015
I dreamt of her again last night.
                              Time heals all wounds.
It's been a while since I've relived
her in my sleep so I guess that's
partially true. But only partially,
because the shattering of my heart has
yet to lessen with each awakening.
                              This year makes five.
Five years later and I'm still trying
to learn how to live without her.
Who do you confide in when the one
you ran to is the person taken so
suddenly from you? In my dreams
she comes alive once more. Not a mere
memory, but a smiling, laughing,
breathing being. I get to experience
her presence for just a few precious
moments. Upon waking I'm smiling,
having just spent time with my best
and closest friend. For about five
seconds the illusion remains before
it crashes down around me, and
I'm left looking at the shards remaining.
The more desperately I try to pick
them up, the deeper I am cut.  
                               It hit me like a ton of bricks.
This saying at least, holds true.
It's a cruel reality having to relive
that moment you learn of your loss.
So I'm left to myself, curled up and
clutching my chest from the pain of
losing her all over again, crying heavy
sobs from the depths of my soul.
When it's over and I've been able to
compose myself, carefully replace all
of my pieces, I'm able to be thankful.
The pain is terrible, yes, but something
I've lived with for years. It never
lessens, we just become better at
bearing it. But to have those few
moments of living with her again,
even if only in my dream world, well,
anyone who has ever lost someone
will tell you that they would give
just about anything for the chance
to see the persons face again.
                              *The pain is worth pleasure.
5.30.15
AmberLynne May 2015
At a time when every movement
jostles my brain inside my head
and each sound ricochets off
the walls of my skull,
a few certain things are excepted:

The tone and flow of your voice
as you tell me you love me,
bringing comfort with words
when sounds are pain.

The rhythm of your heart
as I lay my head on your chest,
a beat I can succumb to,
and cease all thoughts.

The steady in and out
stream of breaths you take
that assure me you're here,
right where I need you most.

And the pressure of your arms,
wrapped tight around me
and hugging me close,
making me feel your love.

So I tilt my head up and say
"I love you,"
never having meant anything
so much as I do those words.

And I snuggle in even closer,
because I can't imagine
a place more perfect
than simply here with you.
5.12.15
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