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your eyes had hurricane in them the last time i saw you. that visible defeat and wreckage running rampant inside of you as you watched me smile and realized you are no longer the reason. your soft voice became an earthquake to the ones that loved you most and you forgot the storm you became ruined things in unfixable ways. so you sent out an SOS call only to realize you cut all the lines and there is no one left to pick up your pieces this time. you searched for temporary safe-holds inside of inconsistent people only to later realize that you already reached your max occupancy in the grave yard of people you left behind when you forgot how to care. so now you throw the empty souls over your shoulder and you walk holding the weight of a thousand broken promises, taking on each day wishing it was your last. all because you couldn’t see   what you had before your levee broke. and this time next year, you will still be searching for damage control to help clean up the mess that you made and i wish i could be here to help with that but you already pushed me away.
He reminded me how to breathe
By leaving me breathless
If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.
This is the first poem (that I have a copy of) i wrote that I actually thought was good. I was in seventh grade, twelve years old, and I wrote it for a newspaper competition. I knew it was really great but I didn't think I would beat all other applicants in the state in my age group. So you can imagine my surprise I'm sure when I DID win! That is the first time I was proud of my writing. So this one has a lot of special sentimental value. Thanks for reading.
It's been a month.
It's been two thousand words.
I've grown from this dust; I'm covered in soot.
Still, I have no place.
Still, I fall from grace.
But, it's been a month.
 Feb 2018 Katie Solomon
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
 Feb 2018 Katie Solomon
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
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