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Megan Jan 2018
The flash caught your attention.
And I squeezed the phone within my palms and prayed you wouldn't look at me.
Blue.
Green.
Were they Grey? or Gray?
Maybe they were the oceans that drowned the sky or maybe it was only me that plunged into the depths of lust? Or envy?
What's between my legs doesn't define what's between my rib cage or what's between my ears.
And I prayed you wouldn't approach me.
Brown.
Auburn.
The color of what used to be dismal fall.
It bounced in waves around you--complimenting the Oceans you weighed on me.
And I was lost. Or caught like the seal in the jaws of an orca. I held my own but couldn't escape.
I stumbled over mountains to answer the question I barely heard.
The sweating technology between my thumbs peeked into the light.
I still couldn't pry the words from my own useless lips so I showed you instead.
And there You were.
Candid.
Little love for all type of poem i guess. Im back too I guess.
Wonder if I'm any better or just about the same. XD
Megan Oct 2015
I like to stop
and think. And
jump and sing.
Also I like to breathe
and know
that I'm alive
with you
  Jan 2015 Megan
Liz And Lilacs
Who would have thought
two years made a difference?
Two years is not that long
in the grand scheme of things.
Two years ago, I didn't know
so much that I do today.
Two years ago, I wouldn't have
made some of the choices I did.
Two years ago, I could smile,
a genuine smile, with real emotion.

If I could go back to two years ago,
I would change what I did,
Warn myself that not everyone is good.
I used to believe that everyone was good
even if they were only good in some tiny way.
I know better now some people will never care
how much pain they cause.
Two years ago, I wish I'd known.
Early morning confusion
  Dec 2014 Megan
Suzy Hazelwood
I write of spring in autumn
of summer in winter
I like to be where I'm not
to cheat on time
fantasy
is so much better
  Dec 2014 Megan
Public Diary
drip drip
It falls to the floor
drip drip
The vulnerability that comes with opening the door
drip drip
Should it be sealed again
drip drip
Maybe

"Hey!?"
..!...
"Quit spacing out"
shakes blood from blade"
  Nov 2014 Megan
Mikaila
When I was 14
I loved a girl named Amanda.
She swore she'd die for me.
She held my hand.
I never kissed Amanda:
She was with a boy named John.
For 3 years, we burned together like a flame,
Never touching.
And then one day, she understood, and ran away.
She loved me,
And I loved her,
And she ran away.

Then I found Mickey.
She did touch me.
When we kissed I felt gravity shift
And so did she.
And we held on,
We held on as hell rained down
We held on and hurt each other.
We bled
We fought
We loved
We reached for one another
With a need so immense it destroyed.
We fell apart
And then fell back together inevitably, involuntarily.
I looked at her like she was my god.
She looked at me like I was her judgement.
Eventually there came a time when there was nothing she could not hurt me with
And my love for her became an accusation in her eyes.
She ran, too. She boiled herself in guilt
And threw the scalding remnants in my face,
And I was blind,
And I loved her
And she loved me
And we never spoke
Again.

Therese kissed me on her anniversary with Nick.
I'd never had anyone look into my eyes
With such joy.
She broke down my resistance
Melted it.
When she touched me I shook.
I told her I loved her
And I saw a craving in those eyes
For exactly what I offered
And it
Leveled me with longing.
We danced for months, for nearly a year.
She would kiss me in the dark on the little bridge by the lake
And tell me she shouldn't
And kiss me again as if she couldn't stop.
I drowned in her.
If I could have pried my ribs open and offered her my heart,
I would have.
I said things to her
That shocked me.
I kissed her palms.
And she looked at me with those eyes
Full of joy.
Slowly, she opened before me like a rose,
She told me who she was.
She showed me what she hid.
And then one night
We sat at her kitchen table drinking ***** with juice
And we said everything.
She showed me her diary
That she keeps in fear that she will forget who she is.
It said, "Galaxies" on the inside cover.
She'd never shown anyone before.
She kissed me, she tucked my hair behind my ear,
She smiled at me,
And every time my heart broke with love I saw it hit her
Physically
Like a kiss, like a drug.
She held my hands, said they were beautiful
Said she wished she had hands like that
And I said take them
And she saw me mean it.
She took a black pen and wrote "Galaxies" on my left thumb,
Right next to the scar I got the day after Mickey left.
Later we pressed our skin together as if it could make us the same,
And I have never felt so safe or so whole.
She was like velvet
And through everything her eyes held that joy that squeezed my heart.
I knew she was afraid.
She was afraid because she felt it when I touched her.
She felt it when I loved her,
And she wanted it
Too much.
And so when she said she couldn't,
I already knew.
I haven't heard from her in a very long time.
She loves me.
I love her too.
And she may not come back.

Love is not told by touching.
Love is not told by kindness.
Love is not told by staying or going.
Love has no caveats, no clock, no rules.
Love is.
Love is in the eyes: They never lie.
It doesn't matter how chaste,
How cruel,
How brief.
Love is.
It is not required to be joyful, or easy.
Love is not bound to give
Answers--

What is love.
Can one just walk away?
"Sometimes."
Sometimes?


Sometimes.
(In response to Victoria Kelleher's poem "Love")
  Nov 2014 Megan
Haus
Dear Academia;
I took the adderall
because I thought
you wanted me
to be a machine.  I didn't
understand that
amphetamine tasted
like candy once you
got used to the way
your jaw locked and your
ears rang.  Dear
academia, did you
see my face when you
read my GPA, did
you see the way I stayed
up too late after my
after school activities
trained me to live with
anxieties?  Dear academia,
why am I afraid of the mirror?
Why did you teach me how
to write a perfect paper but
never prepared me for
the look in his eye when he told
me he didn't love me either.  Dear
academia, i'm ******* and you're
swallowing me, does the sting
of your impulses feel better
when you know you're eating
my hard earned money?  
Dear academia, why
do you give me empty promises?  Why
should I spill my blood with
this diploma, list
my ethnicity and birthdate
next to the insignificance
of what you think makes me
worthy, do
these details feed your
impending due dates or
are you just getting off
to the idea that
only the educated few
know how to
think straight?  Dear
academia,
I tried my hardest
to let you fool me, I
can feel your ego fattening
beside me as I watch your
children scramble for their
ideas of monetary
gluttony.  You're increasing
our wage gaps, do my late night
tears fuel your addiction to epistemic
poverty?  Dear academia, you
taught me to think critically.   I am on fire
with the matches you forgot
you hatched within
me.  Scorpions occasionally
eat their parents and I hate
to admit that this ****
has me hungry.
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