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 Jun 2014 Shivam S
Ryder Rose
She has a heavy heart. A messy soul.
A reckless mind, that lacks self control.
She wore nothing but shades of grey.
Her finger tips blue, from writing all of the words she couldn’t say.
She’s always been a silent fighter,
with demons on the tip of her tongue.
Taking away her breaths,
right from her lungs.
She won’t take any judgements,
on the bonds she needs to untie.
She won’t listen to those telling her how to suffer,
and how to cry.
Ignoring the murmurs of others she looks up at the sky,
as tears start to roll down her cheeks,
that tell a thousand stories she’s too afraid to speak.
Her heart cries for help,
but her face is all smiles.
Her emotions unsteady,
hiding she’s been crestfallen for a while.
Something she’s learning is that she needs to undress.
Starting with her buttons of worry and stress.
Undoing them one by one,
brick by brick.
She knows it’ll be hard,
for she’s built them up thick.
She was once asked why she sometimes wears many layers on warm sunny days.
She said because they made her feel grounded,
but maybe it would be better to just FlOaT away.
Giving in she wandered around searching for something that will finally set her free.
Lift her off the ground,
high above the trees.
She is like a kite with it’s string still spooled tight.
Closing her eyes she drops all of her burdens mid flight.
After realizing how unhappy she has been,
she choses to live as light as air,
never again to lose sight from there.
 Jun 2014 Shivam S
alex kennedy
I've carved our names into trees
to make sure the world never forgets
the life we have created
even if you couldn't remember.

I've sung with the birds
to understand the sorrow
of a friend leaving your nest
which was once considered a safe home.

I've ran with rushing river streams
to feel what its like to run away
from people that would never stay,
people that compliment you and plan to stray

people that row their boats
into another today.
Sailing far far looking for what may
be another 10pm in may.

except;
the *** is different
the person is different
the alcohol and pick up lines
are different.
on abandonment and watching someone relive the same day multiple times
 Jun 2014 Shivam S
Princess Lynne
Why is it that at night I could still feel every part of you
Your breath brushing against my ears
Only to whisper the words of "good night"
Your firm arms tightly holding my petite torso
While your every finger intertwined with mine
Or how your right leg wrapped around my left
And then there's your rosy pink lips
I could still feel it passionately pressed against mine
I miss it
I miss you
Every part of you.
 Jun 2014 Shivam S
alex kennedy
I'd like to meet you the way our lips have.
I'd like to speak to you
because your body is a language I want to be fluent in.

our lips parted and you left me in addiction.
I've been ordering skin and tonic every night,
I kiss people so hard hoping to forget whose air I'm breathing
because  I just might not recall that you are all i want to inhale.

I don't think you understand
I would reinvent the world for you.
Just so we could live in places
where our hands would fit into spaces
like puzzle pieces, and magazine faces.

But I cant, my sand castles dry out and
blow into the wind disappearing among stardust.
I can not stop the red sea from parting,
just like I can not stop our lips from parting
and unfortunately I can not stop your soul from departing.
This is a short poem on wishing you could fit in someones life so badly.
 Jun 2014 Shivam S
alex kennedy
A decade ago the brightest minds dreamed
of being as close to the unknown as the clouds are.
Today we dream the same
but on a larger surface; the moon.
on humanity progressing and changing over time
 May 2014 Shivam S
Melissa B C
Flowers are growing
on my body where your hands
touched me last time.
Do you ever get those days? When the only thought running through your mind is 'I want to go home'
But you are home. You are in your bed with lungs that don't feel like yours and a pulse that sounds more like a drum and you can't hear anything but your own intrusive thoughts and you want to go home. To a skin that doesn't feel like a strangers and to a heartbeat that doesn't sound like his or hers or theirs and you can't, you can't, you can't just simply 'Go Home.'
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