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Olivia L May 2019
I have a hard time writing about the curve
Of that road that we drove down with wind in our hair
You let me unbuckle my seatbelt and stand with my whole body out the window
As you sped up and for a moment I was flying we were laughing and the sun made gold cascade around us

Maybe I don’t have such a hard time writing about that curve
And more a hard time thinking about you because
Good god do I love myself more
Now that you’re gone

I have a hard time writing about your eyes
Because I’ve blocked them from my memory
I remember your hair though
You dyed it a frightening highlighter green and blue
You’re roommates called you Captain Planet

I have a hard time writing about the bed
That I helped you buy and build and clothe
That I tangled myself in the sheets of
When you had to go to work at three am

That bed was warm and soft
And the last time I came over to your house I spent the night with your roommate not you
Because she actually wanted me around
And you were asleep when we came inside
And even when you saw me in the morning you didn’t say goodbye

So I have a hard time writing about that curve
Your eyes
The bed
And the fact that every time you touched my shoulder I didn't feel that flash of joy that I get when I look in her eyes.
  Mar 2019 Olivia L
“They won’t make you super happy, they won’t immediately take the sadness away, but they will help”
I’m growing up and getting help for my sad ***
Olivia L Mar 2019
We rode a fine line
And it scares me that
   I couldn't tell the difference
Olivia L Sep 2017
There's that moment
          Being awake
Being asleep

When you think you've been lying conscious for hours.
And you look at the clock.
And it's been
Olivia L May 2017
I guess there must be a god
Or something like him.

Because you are alive
And thats awesome

But two other men are dead
So I gotta ask

God. If you exist for real
Why are those who do good

The ones injured
While the one who inflicts

Stands tall.
My friend and two others were stabbed yesterday. They were protecting two muslim women from a man hurling slurs and threats. My heart goes out to the families of the two men that passed and I am thankful to say my friend will survive. He is in the hospital and will pull through. The attacker has been identified and taken into custody. I believe, if there is not a god, there is at least someone or something out there looking after us.
Olivia L Mar 2017
I was watching the fish a few days ago, and decided to join them.
Their flickering fins slowly glinted as the sun sank beside me.
I came prepared: purple swimsuit, goggles, and a glowstick
But I left behind a life preserver.
It was on the shore, just in case, but as my feet graced the waves it no longer felt necessary to take precautions.

The golden red hues faded as the water got cold and I continued to drift.
My glowstick glanced off scales and shells, and my hair dye ran like blood around me.

Humans aren't supposed to be able to live without oxygen.
The body will shut down in at least four minutes with severe brain damage, and the possibility of death,
But how can one think of that in moments like this?

Even when all that is left is green, man-made light,
Waiting two seconds in murky liquid, the water comes alive.
Anemones waved as I sunk deeper, their glow penetrating the black.
Schools of fish twirled between my thighs as I landed softly on a coral bed, then slipped off into the sand.

Bubbles brewed from my nose.

Eyes burning as my gaze roved
I was blind in the darkness.
My chest began to tighten,
But who cared?
I had been watching fish, and found myself instead.
Olivia L Mar 2017
I wish I could feel the burn of your lips as they press into mine,
But all my mind can comprehend is the tight pain as your knife digs into the broken edges of my already curving spine.
Your eyes are sunken and hollow, and they match the shell that used to contain my heart.
Blood still pumps, brown and mudded, a lack of oxygen from your lips ******* the life out of my body as they burn
As your hand twists and my dark blood trails like thick syrup, coating your fingers.

Your cold fingers, almost as cold as my feet, circulation slowing, face paling but you don't move away.
You seem to enjoy it as you pull me closer, crushing my arms with your own, muffling the beating of my heart as it slows.

I wish you could feel the cracks in my lips but I forgot, and put on that lipstick you like so much this morning.
Didn't think that you would take it as a sign.

As a sign that like that cold day behind the tree I would accept a kiss
As a sign that I would giggle as you surprised me with another three weeks later
Or a sign that, when I said it was over, when I turned around to get on the bus I would be waiting for you to spin me around.

Because I wasn't.

I don't wish I could feel your lips burn as you kiss me.
I wish I could ignore the heat and focus on the dimming sensation as your knife pulls out,
But then again
I guess I never was any good at noticing when I was killing myself for you
No I'm not killing myself.
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