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I think about you. A lot. When I think about you, I find myself writing; writing about you. The things we've done together. The things I imagine we could do together. Even some of my dreams about you. And as I was thinking and writing about you. I realized that you are my muse. You are the one who inspires my thoughts, my dreams, writing, and my one wish [you]. You inspire me with everything you do. My Muse.
I hate the way
The rain softly lands on the ground
Just enough to get my feet wet
But not enough
To let me drown.
 Dec 2015 Kambry Wilson
J B Moore
Fear.

Has picked up my trail
Is looking to find me.

Fear.*

He's right on my tail
He's coming to bind me.

I run through the night
I'm looking behind me.
With no one in sight
I'm running to find me.

Where would I go?
How would I get there?
Will I ever come back?
Would anyone care?

I'm outrunning fear
Running to find me
Who will come near
And help me come find me.

Out of nowhere it strikes me
I fall to the ground
Out of nowhere it fights me 
From pain do I drown

Away from the pain
I go and I swim
But what will I gain 
If I actually win.

I'm running away 
But there's something I lack
I know I can't stay
But do I have to go back?

8/3/13
 Nov 2015 Kambry Wilson
A
Drained
 Nov 2015 Kambry Wilson
A
I still have that bottle of Jack you never finished
(Don't worry, I finished it for you)
And that empty bottle of beer you left by my bedside the night you took one of the last firsts that I had
And now that you've left
I'm starting to see similarities between myself and the bottles
Empty
Maybe I keep them around for like minded company
Empty

Or maybe I keep them around to remind me of your heart
I made holes
Inside myself
Bigger than the holes
That you created
Inside me
2015, April 22

to experience a thousand
Suns setting, rising
with a stroke of a pen

to bask in the warmth
surrounding you
in the absence of light

to know that dying
is but a step
towards being one with the Great Everything

to watch your own flesh and blood
crawling, walking, loving
growing old, growing wise

to feel connected with Nature
by some weird concoction
of your unique mind

to infuse emotions
through simple words
on the canvas of your life you paint

to be enthralled by the magnanimity
of the Eternal Human Soul
wandering, wandering to become whole

to love, to write
to live in spite the crushing weight
of your dark existence

to be human, to be more
to become the Creator
you've always been
Thirty six days
and nary a trace
of evidence indicating
she will ever go away.
I wrote this about Arlo Disarray.
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