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Lauren Bennett May 2015
In a house full of unread books
In a house full of unworn clothes
Lived a lady with an unused heart.
I often wondered how this ladies heart came to be
Full of thorns and full of scorn.
In a house of open heart
In a house of open mind
Lived a lady with open wounds.
People often wondered
How she came to be
Surrounded by brambles that she refused to cut.
In the house full of stale laughter
In the house full of fresh tears
Lived a lady that was numb from the heart.
I often wonder how it will end
Apathy and self pity create barriers impenetrable
For the lady with a heart of thorns.
Lauren Bennett May 2015
The other night you made me a cup of tea.
We bickered because I stole your chocolate. I was always stealing your chocolate. Chocolate is my fave, and I'd find it and eat it however well you thought you'd hid it.
But as we drank our tea, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right.
And then I looked at you, and realised what was wrong.

You had died.
I held your hand as you took your last breath...

And yet here we were, drinking tea, and bickering over chocolate.
It was a mistake you told me.
You hadn't died!
You woke up in the morgue, and had only just found your way home.
"*******" I thought.
Who on earth did we hold the funeral for?
You laughed as I worried about the mix up.
"This is serious!" I said.
But you kept on ****** laughing.
Always did have a dark sense of humour you.
My tea went cold as I wondered how I was going to tell everyone you were alive.
Then I opened my eyes.
Tears stung them to life.
And then I realised that you were gone.
Relieved I didn't have to tell people of the awful mistake.
I was happy.
Happy you visited.
Happy you know where to find me...

— The End —