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 Nov 2014 Autumn
Zac C
I Want You
 Nov 2014 Autumn
Zac C
I want all of you.
I want your eyes
and the memories
that hold their hand,
and shushes it so that,
though it's presence is
known and acknowledged,
it is silenced and calm.
I want your smile
that shines the walkway
down your throat,
past your lungs,
and straight to your core.
I want your skin
and the paintings on them,
paintings of days with no sunlight
and straight lines of red.
I want your love.
Every moment of joy and pain
and sorrow and guilt, I want.
I want every goodmorning,
after a night's worth of goodnight.
I want the fear of saying goodbye to you;
knowing that at any moment,
the pit would find it's way back
home in my stomach,
as you're gasping for your last taste
of sweet, sweet air.
I want your love.
REPOST

Session 2
 Nov 2014 Autumn
Beebz The Queen
As i walked the lengthy distance,
from the back row seat to the first.
I began to sense right then...
my project would be the worst.
Yet all the time i put in,
i figured I'd pass with a low B
and still as i walked that distance .
I knew it'd be a lower than a C...
listening as each person shared,
Their truly real short story...
i fidgeted and wiggled..
and really started to worry.
The teacher said to write
what came to mind.
Like childhood or family...
to make it one of a kind.
And yet somehow my mind still wandered
to a place still unknown...
i wrote about a womans death...
And how death had claimed the throne.
In English class i shared that project
in the front of that small space...
i read each word that i had typed,
not a syllable out of place.
When i was done my head was low,
i refused to meet their stare.
I sauntered back quietly
To my lonely back row chair.
It was then i saw my teacher smile
and simply nod his head,
it seems that my project was viewed
As a painful loss of the dead.
Little do they know,
i did not relate...
that story that i wrote...
was simply notes by my dinner plate...
english funny death throne teacher class
 Nov 2014 Autumn
Matthew Harlovic
Writer’s block is the misplaced brick in one’s conceptual “university”.

© Matthew Harlovic
 Nov 2014 Autumn
Emma
If my daughter ever comes to me
and asks me if I think she is pretty
I will say NO
You are so much more than pretty
you are beautiful
If my daughter ever comes to me
with tears stains on her face
telling me her heart's been broken
by the boy she thought was the one
even though she may only be 14, or 16, or 21
I will not ask who it was
I will simply hold her until the pain stops
whether it be minutes or hours
or even days
and buy her some chocolate, of course
If my daughter ever comes to me
and shows me the scars on her wrists
and her legs
and her sides
I will not look away horrified
I will simply show her
how a little bit of time
and a little bit of cream
can heal all wounds
even those of the heart
If my daughter ever comes to me
and shows me her sharp hip bones jutting out
and her soft ribcage peeking out
I will not call her crazy or any awful name
I will simply hold her soft enough
that her bones may not break
and walk her along the
all too familiar path to recovery
If my daughter ever comes to me
bleeding and bruised
because he didn't know
what no meant
I will not make her feel *****
I will not make her feel worthless
I will not ask why she didn't stop him
I will simply calm her victimized heart
and show her the many ways to ****
a man or a woman
if they ever touch her without her consent again
I will not judge her
for the many nights she may fall asleep crying
Instead I will prepare her a cup of tea,
buy her some inspirational movies,
write her some poems
and give her some books
Because I know broken souls
cannot be fixed over-night
I will let her buy dresses
that make her feel beautiful
and will not laugh at her
if she chooses to wear them with tennis shoes
I will let her stay home from school
every once in a while
even if I know she is faking it
because I know we all need a break sometimes
and I know that school isn't the only place
you can learn valuable life lessons
If my daughter ever comes to me
with a small child in her arms
one whom was not exactly planned
one whom has no father
I will step in and be that father
I will be her help

But most importantly
If my daughter EVER comes to me
and confesses her mental illness
I will not doubt her
I will not mock her
I will simply smile at her
and assure her she is not alone
and will get the means for help
For I never want her to know
what lonely tastes like
 Nov 2014 Autumn
нαℓeყ
I'm alive
I want to die
I hope you're happy
I hope you cry when I'm gone
I smile all the time
My smile is fake
I have so many friends
I have so many blades
I have a family
They hate me
I don't need help*
I need saving
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