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How am I supposed
To write again...
words from my heart
When you left..
Not only my heart you took
My pen you stole
My passion to write
I am just a poet
You are my poetry
What would a poet be....
without her heart...
... her poetry?
When our love for life is lost,
The joy long since departed
And all around us crumbles
Like the one who is broken hearted.

When our fears are finally found,
So much closer than we thought
We will cling to what we can
Though it is never what we sought.

When we spend our nights in darkness,
And so to with the day,
We must find ourselves a beacon,
A light to guide our way.
A man, with a depression struck face;
who spent his days hidden away
now tries to erase
his hearts clouds of gray

His friends did him a favor
in effort to mend his soul
Yet his heart was the craver-
Juliet made him whole

He spoke as though he was creeper
she was swooned by his smile
Married off and he tried to keep her
killed her cousin; subjected to exile

While away, Juliet had a plan to fake her death
Little did she know she was taking Romeo’s last breath
Romeo and Juliet Gracie Pickard April 16 2014
I put on Harvest Moon
Neil Young wraps me in his arms
The music makes me swoon
Dulls out the loud alarms

Breathe in

I am in a valley beneath one tree
The earth hugs me with grass
Wind calls to address me
"This all shall pass"

Breathe out

My tears pitter patter like rain drops
Soaking my memories with confusion
Every fact hurls through mid air and stops
This rainstorm had no preclusion

Breathe in

Imagining us far apart in separate whens
Both living- saying adieu
"I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you"

Breathe out

No matter the shatter, I must keep trying
Give me the power to overcome
I can stop myself from internally dying
And bring back what isn't numb

Breathe in

Listen to my somber melody
Connect with my bitter bones
Appreciate my new identity
Walk with me into the unknown

I'm not the same person you knew
Take me in your arms- would you?
Our song was harvest moon - so I reference it quite a bit
Gracie Pickard  April 20, 2014
 May 2014 Michael Amery
SG Holter
This familiar road. Same bus
Every morning for
Seven years,
Yet never
Noticed

The oak tree
On that field
Until
Now.

A majestic crown of
Darkest green upon
Wood as solid as
Boats and homes.

Growing as slowly
As it wants.

It can.
I dont feel like im worthy to go to church anymore
Lord please tell me why
your "people" have become the ones I most despise.
they judge me
speak down to me
like they're somehow on your level
this makes me sick.
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